Page 41 of Wilder Love
“How will I pay my way?”
“I have an idea.” His eyes gleamed with excitement. We were planning a future. Together.
He told me about his idea on the drive home.
I was all pumped up about the future, buzzing with excitement, the possibility of forever so close I could almost reach out and touch it.
“If you need anything while I’m away, my dad will be there for you.”
“You haven’t told him anything, have you?”
He sighed loudly as he unlocked his door and pushed it open, gesturing for me to go in ahead of him. “No. But it feels wrong, Remy.”
“It’s just a few more months,” I argued. “Just… Dylan and I will be fine.”
He blew out a frustrated breath. I didn’t want to talk about my mom. She was gone and this time, she wasn’t coming back. A few weeks ago, I’d come home from school and her bedroom door was wide open. All her clothes were gone. All traces of her vanished.
She’d left a note on the kitchen counter.I met someone. He’s different from the others. We need a fresh start and you know I hate being tied to one place for too long. I’ll let you know when I get wherever I’m going. Goodbye, my babies. Take care of each other. You’ve been doing just fine without me for years so I’m not worried. Love, Mom xoxo
She wasn’t worried. Good for her. She got to sleep peacefully, her conscience untroubled, believing that we’d be just fine without her. She needed a fresh start, without us. As if we were a burden. Baggage she needed to unload before she could move on with this guy who I was sure was no different from the others. Rae St. Clair had lousy taste in men.
She’d sealed the note with an imprint of her red-painted lips and left us some cash, almost enough to cover the rent, but like everything else about Mom it had fallen short. Dylan called it the ultimate kiss-off. He crumpled the note in his fist and tossed it in the trash. After he’d stalked out of the kitchen and went for a run, I’d retrieved the note and smoothed my hand over the paper. It lived in my shoebox of memories now. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful. If I let myself dwell on my mom’s actions, her abandonment, it would make me want to curl up into a ball and cry my heart out.
The only bright side to Mom’s leaving was that Dylan finally had his own room.
But I didn’t want to think about Mom or about Shane leaving to catch a plane for Australia at five o’clock tomorrow morning. Or about his duffel bag and surfboards packed and waiting by the door.
No. I wanted to live in this moment. Remember every whisper, every touch, every stolen glance. And when he was gone, I could dream about the future. Only ten weeks until graduation. Only ten weeks and one day until my eighteenth birthday. Even though we had already crossed every line, I knew he would still be relieved when I was of legal age. He hated sneaking around and I hated feeling like we were doing something wrong.
* * *
I liftedmy head from his chest and checked the time on the bedside clock—twenty past twelve. He would be leaving in four hours and forty minutes. Careful not to wake him, I lifted his arm and slid out from under it. I got dressed in the dim shadows of his room and watched him sleeping for a few moments. His chest rising and falling, his breaths deep and even. As if he sensed the loss and realized I was already gone, he mumbled something in his sleep and rolled onto his side, his arm wrapping around my pillow. I took a mental snapshot I could carry around with me and pull out anytime I was missing him.
I didn’t want to say goodbye, so I whispered, “I love you, Shane. See you soon.”
On my way out, I stole one of his hoodies hanging on a hook in the hallway and pulled it over my head, threading my arms into the too-long sleeves, and burrowing my nose into the collar. It smelled like him. Like the sea. Like summertime. Clean and manly and intoxicating.
The street was quiet. The night air chilly. But I felt warm in Shane’s hoodie. Unlike the other times before he left to go on tour, I didn’t have those same fears. Like he’d forget me while he was away. I believed him when he told me that we would make this work. I meant it when I said I would wait for him. How could he even question it? There was nobody else I wanted to be with.
“If it isn’t Shane Wilder’s dirty little secret.”
Ice froze my spine. My steps faltered, and I tripped over my flip-flop, stubbing my toe on the asphalt. I lifted my head to see that familiar smirk aimed at me.
Tristan Hart was leaning against his BMW, arms folded over his chest. I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to know that he had an unobstructed view of Shane’s apartment.
I swallowed hard and forced my feet to move. “What are you doing here?”
“The fun and games are over, Remy.”
“Wow. You sound like a villain from a B-List movie.” I tried to laugh it off, but dread filled my stomach.
“Get in the car, Remy. We need to have a little chat.”
“Tomorrow at school works for me,” I said, my tone breezy as if he was just paying me a social visit. I kept walking, my footsteps taking me to the metal staircase, my heart hammering in my chest.
A hand shot out, yanking my hair. I let out a surprised yelp. His hand covered my mouth and he dragged me by my hair and slammed me against his BMW, caging me in with his arms.
“What do you want from me?”
