Page 22 of Wilder
“I didn’t like the way that dickhead had his eyeballs all over her.” He maintains his focus on me. “Echo. What don’t we know?”
I wince at the firmness of his tone and close my eyes rather than see the disappointment that I’ve kept something from him. I can tell myself I hadn’t meant to hide Zane’s behavior from him, but I’d be lying.
From the driver’s seat, Wilder grumbles, “Knew we shouldn’t have left her alone.” The rising temper in his voice is noticeable and sends a shiver through me. “I’m not mad at you, Legacy, I just—” He slams a palm into the steering wheel and shakes his head, unable to finish his thought.
From behind me, there’s a frustrated groan. “I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten as wasted as I did.” The guilt in Beckham’s words and tone tugs at my heart.
I lean around the seat to peer at him, catching his bright-blue gaze. His jaw is rigid, and I can totally tell his teeth are grinding behind his tightly clamped lips. “No, Beckham. You’re allowed to have a bad night.” The anguish in his eyes slices into my heart and makes me ache. I don’t like it when he’s hard on himself.
Nibbling on my lip, I send myself back to the day he came clean to me about his peculiar watching habits. I swear I felt how he was mentally flogging himself for it, and this is no different. Hell, I bet he’d actually have beaten himself for it if he thought it were possible. I definitely don’t want him falling into some sort of spiral because of how he chose to deal with those pornographic images showing up all over our entryway.
To my surprise, Royal reaches over, placing his hand on Beckham’s shoulder. “She’s right. There was so much more at play that night, and we had no idea what was coming at us or how things would go down.”
Wilder nods in agreement. “I don’t blame you either, Beck.” His gaze slides to mine. “That doesn’t mean we don’t want—no,need—to hear the rest of what happened with that guy.”
“I’m sorry he’s dead, but I didn’t for a second like the way he was looking at her.” Royal clears his throat. “What the fuck happened before I got there, baby?”
I draw in an unsteady breath. “I—” My focus catches on where we are. We’re still a good minute or two out from my house. My teeth clench so hard it hurts my jaw. “Shit,” I murmur under my breath. “I bumped into him. He knew who I was. It started off uncomfortable because he said something about how he recognized me from Freya’s description. And he was kinda leering… and handsy.” I draw in an agonized breath. “Once Freya joined us, I thought it’d be over, but he kept after me.”
“That motherfucker,” Royal bites out, his eyes ablaze with fury. “You should have fuckin’ said something right then.”
I let go of Wilder’s hand, only to throw mine up in the air, feeling frustrated. “But I didn’t want to.”
“Why?” Royal’s brow hikes up in question.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, then let out an exasperated breath. “Because I was worried about you, you jerk, and what might happen if a brawl broke out with that big asshole.”
“The fuck, Echo. Seriously.”
“Okay.” Wilder grinds out as he turns into my driveway. “She told you what happened, the guy is dead.”
Ever the peacekeeper, Beckham nods. “Yep. I think we have to cross our fingers and move on. The police know about it. There’s nothing more for us to do.” He gestures to the house. “Kara won’t mind having us here another night at the Madden Hotel, will she?”
I shake my head. “I texted her from the police department the minute they told me. She doesn’t seem to have any issue—more hands to help with Chase and all… and I think she’s a little relieved to have a bunch of us here in case something else goes sideways.” I find Royal’s eyes. “This morning, she said she thought it was good for Chase to have you around.”
His brow raises for a split second, and suddenly the air is thick with something that I can’t quite put my finger on. “I want to be around for him. I hope I made that clear.”
“You did. Actually, all of you are good for him. He needs male role models, you know?”
“What about Davis?” Beckham cautiously asks.
I shrug. “He’s not one of those guys who is good with kids.” Royal grumbles something under his breath. Wincing because I can imagine what he said, I finish my thought. “Yeah, I kinda figured it had something to do with him being yours.”
“Whatever. I’m here now. We all are. Tough shit if Davis doesn’t like it.”
Beckham laughs. “And we happen to like the little nugget, so I think he’s stuck with us.”
The other two guys murmur their agreement, and I can’t help but feel a warmth flow through me at their acceptance. A moment passes in silence while the four of us absorb everything that’s been said so far.
“Whaddaya say we get inside?” Wilder glances into the back of the cab where his gym bag sits between the two guys. “It’s a good fucking thing I had my gear in the truck because it would have been hell getting replacement equipment on short notice for my fight.”
I perk right up at that as I pop my door open and climb out. “I forgot about fight night.”
Wilder’s eyes meet mine as I come around the front of the truck to join him. “Will you come? I mean, I know the last time was quite an experience.” He grimaces as Royal shrugs, a smirk twitching his lips as he grabs Wilder’s bag from the seat and chucks it at him.
“Do you want me to be there?” I work the corner of my lip between my teeth.
“Yes.” Wilder’s answer is quick and decisive.
