Page 137 of Wild Love
She ignores me and, now dressed, continues packing her bag. And I just stand here in my boxers, the morning after the one night I had everything I could ever want, watching it all go up in smoke. And I’m the asshole who lit the match.
I finally give voice to what’s been turning my stomach for the past several minutes. “Are you coming with me?”
She straightens, duffel in hand, and walks straight up to me. “No. I am booking my own flight to Calgary, and thenI hope Tabby or someone will pick me up and drive me back to Rose Hill.”
“But we could?—”
Her pointer finger jabs me in the chest, and her eyes sparkle with unshed tears as she goes toe-to-toe with me. “No. You are going to walk in there like Ford Grant Junior with your big swinging dick and World’s Hottest Billionaire title, and you are going to make thisright. You break it, you buy it. Go be ateamor whatever you little boys are calling this shit.”
My molars grind as I give her a firm nod. I’ll give her anything she wants to make this right.
“I’m going to go make sure my niece and nephew have someone to pick them up when their week at their mom’s place ends. And I hope to god Mia doesn’t have any second thoughts about sending them to a guy who flies off the handle while playing Dog the Bounty Hunter for kicks.”
I swallow and her eyes search my face. Anger flashes through them, and a plea lurks beneath it in those blue depths. “Cora’s end-of-school party is tomorrow.” It’s a silent command for me to be back with everything fixed. She grips my chin. “Make this right.”
With that, she turns and walks out of our hotel room. But not before calling back over her shoulder, “And also, I quit.”
Then the door clicks shut on me.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
FORD
Guilt has beenmy constant companion the entire flight into Vancouver. Rosie’s take on everything I have—my power, my privilege—hit me like a freight train.
The ultimate wake-up call. Because I don’t think a single other person in my life has ever laid it out like that. Willa is swayed by the ease of our upbringing, whether or not she realizes it. Our struggles are not the same as other people’s.
Struggles, yes. Because we all struggle. But it’s so much more nuanced than that.
And the more I think about it, the more I realize my dad was trying to teach me this exact lesson by not handing me the money for that ticket all those years ago. He could have afforded it. He could lose that hundred bucks in the wash and not notice it was missing.
But he wanted me to learn to notice it.
Instead, I found a workaround and carried on with mylife. My education. My last name. I know I haven’t abused them or used them poorly, but I am guilty of being oblivious to the power they wield. The way they’ve set me up in life, even when it didn’t feel that way.
On the drive to the police station, the reality of Rosie’s words sinks in. I decide that I’m very comfortable with what I have and that I will use every tool at my disposal to make this right for West.
And I realize I owe him an apology. Because Idoknow better than to send him into this situation.
If West sees a cliff, he’s gonna jump off it. If he finds a horse no one can stay on, West is gonna ride it. And if he runs into someone who needs punching, West is gonna punch them.
That’s just him. And I unknowingly steered him into this.
I tug the glass doors to the station open and shake my head when I round the corner and see him having coffee with a cop at his desk. West’s hands are gesturing and he’s grinning as he tells the potbellied middle-aged man what appears to be a hilarious story.
The cop has one hand on his stomach, the other wrapped around a mug, and a wide grin spread under his gray mustache.
This is also very… West.
The man could charm the pants off anyone.
“Weston,” I say as I approach, tilting my head when I see the way his knuckles are split.
When my friend of twenty years turns and hits me with his most mischievous grin, I know he’s not seeing this the way Rosie is. Or maybe he is, and he doesn’t care.
I tap a finger against my knuckles, a silent question about his bloodied ones.
He chuckles and gives me a wink. One I’ve seen him use to get himself out of trouble—or into it—for years now. “Nah, dude. You should see the other guy.”
