Page 124 of Wild Card
And I don’t even blame her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
BASH
“Dude, you’re fucking terrible tonight. You’re like the new Rhys of the team,” West teases.
Ford, Rhys, and Clyde (who came along just to hang out) all get a really good laugh at my expense.
The problem is, I don’t feel much like laughing. I feel downright distraught over my argument with Gwen.
It’s been several hours since she walked out the door, and the coiling sensation of nausea rolling in my gut has only gotten worse with every minute that’s passed.
“West, be gentle with him today. He’s already busy beating himself up.”
I shoot a scowl Clyde’s way. “I’m fine.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Things didn’t sound fine from where I was hiding in my bedroom. Gwen laid you out, boy.”
I roll my eyes. Fucking Clyde, always spying on us. “I deserved it.”
The humor around me dissipates after I bomb everyone’s good mood with that depressing take on things.
Four sets of wide eyes gawk back at me.
“What? What are you all staring at?”
Ford takes a sip of his drink, still staring at me. “Probably that you finally admitted there’s something between you and Gwen after months of pretending there isn’t when we can all tell that there is.”
“Yeah,” West adds. “I feel like I’ve been in on a state secret that everybody knows about, but no one talks about. You and Gwen, you’re like Fight Club. You know what the first rule is.”
I give them another of my signature eye rolls, which they interpret as me finding them funny. Ford, West, and Clyde chuckle between themselves as I watch them make their way to the bar, searching for another drink.
But it’s Rhys’s intense glare that has my skin crawling.
“What’s the trouble?” he asks, his eyes concerned. Sure, he looks like a massive meathead, but underneath it all, he might be one of the most sensitive guys I know.
I glance away, watching other teams take their turns as I search for the right words. “I don’t know. Everything feels so messy. You know, when we met, it seemed like it could be so simple. Like, just, I liked her, and she liked me, and we could meet up again sometime. Now it’s like my son’s involved, right up in the middle of everything, and I want so badly for him to be okay with it. But I just don’t know how to make him see that. And the guilt is eating me alive.”
I let out a weary sigh. “I said some things to Gwen today that I shouldn’t have. I know I hurt her feelings, and I just…”
Rhys’s deep voice rumbles across the space between us. “It’s just altogether too many feelings, isn’t it?”
I look at him, realizing there’s a reason why this man is the one I connect with the most on our team. “Yeah, it’s just a lot of feelings, a lot of talking, and a lot of things that I haven’t felt in a really long time. Like I have something to lose. Like I have something to gain. Like I’m jealous. Like I’m just paralyzed bythe realization that one wrong step could leave me with nothing when everything is so close that I can almost taste it.”
He nods. “Believe it or not, I know the feeling. Tabitha and I weren’t always so clear-cut. I was used to keeping everything to myself, second-guessing everyone around me, never trusting a single soul. And then, you meet that one person who makes you want to break out of your shell. Who it’s worth taking those risks for. Who…without them, you’d stay on the same miserable path. Never improving, never changing, never becoming a better version of yourself.”
He shrugs now. “Sometimes when you’re paralyzed like that, it’s not because you don’t know what to do. It’s because you know exactly what to do. You know what’s right, but it scares you. It’s not indecision. It’s being grown-up enough to know that the world doesn’t revolve around you. There’s so much in there at play.”
I let his wise words wash over me, rolling my beer glass between my palms.
Rhys watches me for a moment, then he chuckles. “I think if you weren’t a little scared, you’d probably be stupid. And you’re a lot of things, Bash”—he holds his beer up now, clinking it against my glass—“but stupid is not one of them.”
I nod and take a sip.
“Don’t let her get away,” he adds.
Before I can thank him for sharing his wisdom—Rhys isn’t a talkative person, and he just monologued some deep advice straight at me—the guys return to our table.
