Page 11 of Wilder Puck
“It's just me and my dad,” she said. “My mom died in a car accident when I was six.”
The words landed like a physical blow. In an instant, I understood so much – the sadness that sometimes flickered in Addie's eyes, the intense independence she claims, and the disconnect with her father.
I scooted closer and pulled her into my arms without thinking. She came willingly, folding into me as sobs caught in her throat. My heart has ached for her since then. It was a moment when I understood that I was lucky to have never experienced that kind of pain, and something in my brain changed. She changed me forever.
“I've got you,” I murmured over and over. “I'm right here, Addie.”
I held her like that for a long time, wishing I could absorb her pain into myself. She cried until she had no tears left, fallingasleep against my chest. I carried her to my bed and tucked her in, brushing hair off her tear-stained cheeks.
It was our first-ever sleepover. She stayed in my bed, and I took the ground. It was at that moment, looking down at her, that my protective instincts came to life. I vowed to do everything in my power to take care of her from that day forward. She'd already lost so much. Her mom? I can’t even begin to imagine.
To this day, I absolutely refuse to be her friend in passing. I want to be so much more, so best friend it is. I promised her that she would never be alone. Not then and not now.
The bathroom door opens, and Addie says, “Shower’s all yours, China Wall.”
I watch her closely, wondering if she’s hiding the stress of the rent increase.
“Baddie?”
She looks up at me. “Yeah?”
I hold my gaze on her and reassure her, “It’s going to be okay.”
Her brows furrow. “Yeah, I know that, Wilder. That’s why I don’t need you.” She walks back to the couch and continues her paperwork.
That’s my cue to head into the bathroom. I turn the spray as hot as it will go and step under, hoping my anger swirls down the damn drain with the water. She wants me to forget it, but I definitely can’t.
I think of her brown sugar eyes, and I know I can’t sit back and do nothing. I can fix this for her. No, I will fix this for her.
Addison is one of the strongest humans I know, and if she finds out that I’m trying to step in, she will torture me herself. Which, on the contrary, sounds pretty nice. She could do whatever she wanted with me, and I would let it happen. Heck,I’d probably even enjoy it. I probably shouldn’t even be thinking about sneaking behind her back, but I can’t help it. As we figured out years ago, I am the best friend anyone could ever ask for. The yes man. Ryan Wilder, the China Wall of the NHL’s Seven Devils, baby. A fucking people pleaser. The Nice Guy.
The plan comes together as I lather her vanilla orange soap over my skin, breathing in the scent of summertime and Addie. First thing tomorrow, I'll call her landlord and cover whatever extra he's charging. I have the means to make this problem disappear and she deserves to have something go right for once.
I know she'd continue to deny my help if I offered openly, stubborn pride winning out over practicality. Her independent streak runs deep. So, I'll handle it quietly, just take care of it behind the scenes. She never even needs to know.
Toweling off, I tie it around my hips and walk out of the bathroom. The steam flows into the hallway as I make my way to her room where I have a few outfits in one of her drawers. I open the bottom right drawer, which is rightfully mine, but I don’t find clothes. There are notebooks, so I lift them up to see if my shirt and shorts are hiding underneath.
My eyes widen at the view of what I’ve come across. A bright pink thing shaped like a dick next to a vibrator toy with a round head. I put the notebooks back down and then take a deep breath.
What the fuck?
I lift the notebooks back up because I clearly must’ve been seeing things. I look at the other bottom drawer, open that one up, and see my clothes folded nicely. God, why did I not remember exactly what drawer was mine? Now I have this image of Baddie giving herself the best pleasure of her life, meanwhile, I’m having vanilla sex.
I close that sex drawer and wonder how I can act normal around Addison after knowing what she has in her bedroom. I throw on my clothes and stare at the bottom drawer. I swear that was my drawer. Did she want me to see it? I scratch my head, not knowing what to think. Now I’m pacing the room.
We’re all adults here.
Yeah.
Whywouldn’tshe have something like that?
But why would she?
Ok, but did she want me to see that?
Oh, god. Does Jacob use that on her?
I can’t stop pacing the room.
