Page 138 of Wild Side
I take a long pull of my beer and tip my head from side to side as though I’m considering. “Sorry, man. I gotta say, there is a smolder.”
“See? Everyone knows. It’s just… There’s anenergy.” West is teasing, but Bash does not look amused.
“Don’t mock her. You can mock me, but not her.” The words come out snippy, and I quirk a brow at him. “Don’t give me that look. She’s my son’s ex-girlfriend. That suggestive eyebrow lift is not necessary.”
I still. We’ve talked about security systems. We’ve talked about bowling. But never once have we talked about his family.
“Wait, how old is your son?” One thing I’ve appreciated about Bash is that he doesn’t pry. So I have never pried back.
“Twenty-four.”
“Huh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “How old are you?”
West gets the giggles, and Bash rolls his eyes. “Forty. Young enough to give Clyde a kidney.”
We all freeze, and I marvel at the way he managed to shock us all into a brand-new conversation.
“Crazy Clyde?” Ford asks with a furrowed brow.
“Yep.”
“Does Clyde know about this?” West asks, all of us nodding, because there is no one who spews more conspiracy theories than Clyde. “He seems like an… unlikely candidate?”
Bash shrugs again. “He has come to terms with thefactthat he will be getting a new kidney along with a government tracking device.”
“Wild,” Ford mumbles, shaking his head.
Bash shrugs. “I’ve got two. We’re a match. And I can take the winter off to recover, be back in action for fire season.”
“You’re a lot nicer than you look, Bash.” West slaps the older man’s shoulder appreciatively, which only gets him a glare that looks like it might kill him.
The night carries on in good spirits. Teasing and camaraderie and a mutual distaste for Stretch, who pitches an absolute fucking fit when wefinallybeat him.
It feels surprisingly similar to becoming a universal champion.
When Stretch walks over and runs his mouth, I stare him down with my best Wild Side glare, lifting my hands up and miming a twisting motion like I’m wringing out a dish rag.
As expected, he skulks away and avoids eye contact when I pass him on my way out. News of my profession has spread through town, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s a bit scared of me.
I hope he is.
I cruise down the highway, feeling happier than I can ever remember. I’m headedhome. To a house where a woman I love lives. Where a little boy I love lives. Some days, I pinch myself with how fortunate I am.
Every day I spend married to Tabitha Garrison, I feel more whole and settle into this being real, and not some fever dream. I fall asleep next to her every night, and I wake with her in my arms every morning.
I itch to get back in the ring—which some people have opinions on. But not Tabitha. She knows that having a purpose is important. She knows hard work. She knows I’ll be happiest pursuing my passion.
And the same goes for her. Her restaurant is thriving—especially since I paid off the loans she took out against it to put Erika through rehab. She had her own moment over that but eventually relented when I brought her sentiments full circle.
We’re a team. Let me help you.
The more time we spend together, the more all the lines in the sand between us blow away. What was hers and minebecame ours. And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel the need to hoard and hide and protect.
I let her in, and I think it healed me in a way. My therapist thinks so too.
When I enter the house, I know she’s up because the patio lights are glowing through the windows. Spring has sprung, and she’s back to sitting outside every chance she gets.
I trudge through the house, going straight to her. But not before Cleo intercepts me with her signatureprow prow prowas she comes trotting out of thin air.
