Page 157 of Hot Shot

“I do. Like I can breathe for the first time in months. Years.” I pause, enjoying his warmth and weight against me. “I was thinking about something Davis said?—”

Wilder grumbles something unintelligible, but I definitely hear the wordfuckerin there and chuckle.

“He said I was an empty vessel, that I need someone else’s life to fill me up, which was both not far off and completely wrong. Because I was filled with his life before, but that wasn’t the problem. Being a vessel is part of what connects us, and it’s only possible when you love someone—you share your life. But life with him was empty…it meant nothing to anyone. But with you? I’m not just filled, I’mfulfilledby this life, so rich, so sweet with love that I don’t think I can hold it all. He was wrong.”

“Yeah, he was. He was wrong about everything that ever came out of his mouth as far as I’m concerned,” Wilder says, then pauses. “I really wish I’d hit him.”

I laugh, turning in his arms to smile up at him. “I kinda do too.”

He groans. “Dammit. Now I’m gonna daydream about that.”

“How about I give you something else to daydream about?” I circle my arms around his neck.

A slow smile spreads across his lips. “Oh, yeah? What do you have in mind?”

My shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. “Just that it’s me and you, forever. In that bed, in this house, or anywhere in the world. We get to do all of this together. I think we should daydream about that instead.”

“I’ve been daydreaming about that since middle school,” he teases. “I thought you were talking about sexy daydreams.”

“Weren’t you daydreaming about that anyway? Because I definitely was.”

Another groan, this one accompanied by the press of his hips. “Goddamn, I love you, Cassidy.”

“Me too. Can we make it forever this time?”

And he smiles, angling for a kiss.

“If I have anything to do with it, we sure fucking will.”

My chest threatens to crack open, my heart too full of love, knowing he’ll keep his promise or die trying. Because the only promise he ever broke was the one that got us here in the first place—refusing to mail in the annulment papers.

And I hope if he had it to do over, he’d do it just the same.

CHAPTER 59

CHASING CARS

WILDER

Twisty’s is packed for a Tuesday afternoon.

It’s unseasonably warm for October, but it’s the perfect send off for the ice cream shop, which will close for the rest of fall and all of winter. Cricket, Cass, and I stand at the window of the gigantic ice cream cone and order—chocolate raspberry for Cass, strawberry for Cricket, and dutch chocolate for me.

Even without the ice cream, we can’t stop smiling.

Despite our lawyer running us through the process, I didn’t have a clue how the custody hearing would go. He said it would be open and shut, that we really just had to show up, but I barely slept last night, terrified that somehow I’d fail this final check and lose Cricket forever. So I put on my best suit and gathered up my best girls, taking them to the courthouse where our fate awaited.

Cricket didn’t have to come, but she wanted to, and I couldn’t tell her no any easier than I could Cass. I sat in that courtroom, the judge flipping through papers while my lawyer talked. I don’tthink he even got through the whole stack before he made his ruling.

And now, Cricket is mine, legally, forever.

The relief melted me like a warm pat of butter. I thought I was going to liquify, my knees knocking as we exited, shaking hands with my lawyer before taking the hands of my daughter and wife.

Patty and Paul had asked if we wanted them to come, but I told them no, and I don’t think they were sad either. I’m sure this handoff of Cricket is bittersweet, on top of our relationship hurdles, which we’remostlypast. They tried to flex on me a couple of times where Cricket was concerned, but after everything we’ve been through, I found I wasn’t afraid of them anymore. And in turn, they finally found some respect for me, even deferred to me by default.

It’s been a nice change.

Trent’s been in jail without bail since the whole gunpoint situation, as is the landlord who killed Ashley. I don’t know how long it will be until either of their trials, but I’m not holding my breath to find out. I have, however, kept my promise to Trent as best I can—Cricket started writing him letters, and they’ve become pen pals. Every day when she gets home from school, she bolts to the mailbox to check if he’s written, which is cute as hell. And when she hits the jackpot, we read the letters together. Mostly the two of them talk about school and baseball, sometimes Ashley. Always the damn kitten that I didn’t want but that constantly seems to find its way into my lap. She’s a furry, smoky gray thing with green eyes that Cricket named Sparky Snugglesworth, and she’s the most chill cat I’ve ever met. Cricket carries her around like a babydoll, and sometimes puts her in her backpack with the top unzipped so her head can stick out. She even lets Cricket put little clothes on her and just lays there,so long as you talk sweet to her. A job which I have had and, despite how silly it is, I enjoy very much.

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