Page 72 of Wild Card
“Now with Tripp and justeverything… I don’t know, Clyde. I think that ship might have sailed. I don’t want to make an issue out of it. It feels like the universe is pitted against us?—”
He scoffs. “Quitter talk. The universe isn’t stopping either of you from doing anything.”
I shoot the older man a disbelieving look.
“Gwen, I know you believe in all this stuff, and that’s great. I also believe in a lot of things that other people don’t, but don’t let that stop you from going after what you want. Sometimes things won’t just fall into your lap because the universe provides or whatever.”
I snort at that. I don’t think I’m that far gone, but I do have a habit of trying to go with the flow and avoiding causing any ripples. “Harsh.”
“Good. You both need it.”
“Clyde, that’s his son. He really wants a relationship with him, and that will be infinitely more complicated with me in the picture.”
“So? All the best things in life are complicated.”
I sigh. Wise words from the most unlikely source.
I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with Clyde. If someone had told me months ago that he’d be the man giving me a fatherly pep talk, I’d have laughed in their face.
“Gwen, listen. I’ve known him for years now, and he might be one of the best people I know. Prickly and ornery and set in his ways, butgood. He’s been hurt. He’s been told a few too many times that he isn’t good enough. Between his ex-wife and Tripp’s mom, he’s learned the hard way that people use him as a stepping stone to the life they really want. Heexpectsto be left behind.”
Clyde pauses for dramatic effect or to sip at his coffee—I’m not sure which. What I do know is that my stomach has twisted into another knot with each of his sentences.
“And those are tough wounds to heal. Especially for a man so paralyzed by all his own regrets. He’s stuck. I see it, and I bet if you looked hard enough, you’d see it too. But when he met you? You shook him up. It changed something. It changed him. And I reckon that if you have the fortitude to keep at him, he might just soften up for you. It won’t be easy. But nothing worth having ever comes easy.”
I roll my lips together, considering Clyde’s assessment.
“But, Gwen, if you aren’t serious about the guy, you should leave sooner rather than later. Find that next gig. Keep chasing those dreams. Because this is harder on him than he’ll ever let on.”
Nausea crawls up my throat, that churning, dropping feeling in my gut hitting hard and fast. It’s the same one I felt when he turned and stormed out three days ago, expecting the worst of me.
Am I serious about him?
I mull over the question, but it doesn’t take long. I am. There’s a reason I took the position in this town, a reason I moved on from Tripp immediately. And there’s a reason I’m sitting here sick over him.
I don’t tell Clyde any of those things. But I do nod.
And then I turn the TV back on right in front of him, determined to catch sight of Bash.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
BASH
I’m deeply, deeply exhausted. My body is sore, and my mood is low.
Surprisingly my incision is fine. But the mental and emotional toll of fighting a fire as destructive as this one never fails to knock me on my ass.
And as much as I hate to admit it, I wasn’t ready to take this job. Not physically anyway. Emotionally, I was fucking desperate for it.
I hip check the motel door open and suck in a lungful of filtered air. Outside feels downright apocalyptic. The sky is dark now, but it has an eerie, orange glow.
We got called down while in the midst of laying out fire retardant, trying to cut some lines in the fire’s sprawl.
But the winds weren’t cooperating and there weren’t any natural water sources a convenient distance away.
Gwen would say that the universe was working against us, and I don’t know that she’d be wrong—that’s exactly what it felt like.
A hard day on the job and the sinking feeling of wishing I hadn’t left the way I did haven’t helped my mood.
