Page 8 of Defending What is Mine

“Not an email. Not a text. Not even a message by carrier pigeon.” I shake my head. “Nothing.”

Mollie leans against the door. “But this has happened before, right? You’ve had stretches with no contact. Only to find out later that his company got stuck somewhere, or they were in a blackout, or whatever.”

I nod. “But this feels different, Mol. I don’t know how to explain it, but something’s wrong. I just know it.” The feeling has been growing stronger with each passing hour. My cousin is right, we’ve had stretches with no contact before. I worried then, but not like I am now.

Mollie lets out a small sigh. “Hon, I’m sure everything will be fine. From what I’ve seen, the Wildes don’t have quit in their DNA. But even if you’re right—and I’m not saying you are. Even if something happened, I’m sure Jack will come through the other side of it. He’s a Wilde and apparently it’s what they do. You’ll see, just have faith.”

I nod, but her words offer little comfort against the swell of anxiety in my stomach. My heart thrums his name.

…Jack…

…Jack…

…Jack…

…please be okay.

The afternoon drags by, but eventually, as it always does, day gives way to evening. With Mollie and Vanessa serving as distractions, I find myself only checking the clock every ten minutes, or so. Quite an improvement over the obsessive three-minute checks from earlier in the day. Still, as the time inches closer to our call, I feel the knot in my stomach growing.

At T-minus five minutes, I politely excuse myself from whatever TV show I haven’t been paying attention to and slip back to my bedroom to fire up the laptop.

What if he doesn’t make it? Will that prove I was right to be worried? Do I even want to be right in this situation? What will I do then? What can I do then? I have no power in this. I have no control.

“Mommy? What’s the matter?”

I look up and find Vanessa standing by my desk. “Aren’t you going to talk to Jack tonight? Is that why you’re crying?”

I bring my hand to my eye, and sure enough…tears. Damnit. I pull her into my lap and play with her ponytail as I attempt to explain. “I really hope we get to talk, sweetie, but it’s been a while and I’m a little worried that we won’t be able to. That’s all.”

Vanessa wraps her arms around my neck. “Don’t worry. God sent Jack to us and He wouldn’t do that if He wasn’t going to keep him safe.”

I choke back a sniffle and bob my head. “You sure know how to make your mom proud, you know that?” I press a kiss into Vanessa’s hair and glimpse the time on the laptop. Two minutes after—and still no sign of Jack.

“Alright now, enough of this silliness. Why don’t you go on and get your bath, okay? Tonight, is a school night, ya know?”

Vanessa nods as she slides off my lap. When she reaches the hall, she stops and turns back. “Mommy, if you do talk to Jack, tell him I was never worried, okay?”

I choke back a laugh. “Sure, baby. I’ll tell him.”

Finally, at fifteen minutes after, the last of my hope fades and I decide to write him an email instead. I want him to know how sorry I am we missed each other, but also to remind him that—whatever he’s in the middle of—he’s in our thoughts and prayers. Always.

I try to make the best of what’s left of the evening. For its part, the generous pour of pinot into my ridiculously large wineglass goes a long way toward salvaging my mood. Once Nessa’s tucked into bed and Mollie’s off to spend another evening with Hank, I decide to call it a day and whisper a silent prayer that when I wake, I’ll find a reply from Jack.

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