Page 51 of Walk on the Wilde Side
I look at him. "But I didn't save her. She saved me." And there it is. That's what's gnawing at me. "All my life, she's been the one saving my ass, keeping me from getting in trouble, putting bandages on my wounds, giving me shelter when I needed it. It was my turn to save her, and I got fucking slammed by some two-bit gargantuan beast, and next thing I know she's pulling me back to the wave runner."
"Ah come on, you're being stupid. That head of yours isn't working right. Besides, you stepped in to protect Nev lots of times. Just last year, you pounded that dick who grabbed her ass at the Gold Rush. She knows you'd move mountains to protect her, just like today. You rode out there without any backup. You had no idea how many thugs were waiting for you on that boat. You did good, bro."
His words aren't helping much. My stupid Wilde ego is getting in the way. "Dad will have a good fucking laugh about how things ended."
"Not true. I think he'll be proud. Of course, he'd never use those words, but I think they run through his mind a lot more than we realize. Shit, after all, we all managed to make it to adulthood with all our limbs intact and only a few checkmarks on our records. He will, however, have a fucking meltdown when I tell him we got stiffed on this job."
"So don't tell him," I say.
Jameson tilts his head side to side. "Good idea."
"How are you feeling?" Nev's soft voice floats around the half-open door.
Jameson winks at me. "I'll be out in the waiting area." He walks out. "Hey Nev, you're amazing, by the way."
Nev's face peers around the door. A big square bandage is taped to her cheek. Someone has given her a clean, dry sweatshirt, too. "How's your head?" she asks.
"It's still attached. Don't know if that's a good or bad thing."
Her smile is always like an elixir for my mood, but today, even that amazing fucking smile isn't pulling me from my funk. "It looks like they got your arm reattached, too. Thank you for coming to my rescue." Nev never shies away from looking a person right in the eye, and this moment is no different. Sometimes it feels like she can see right through me, right down to my shredded soul. Instantly, she knows something is wrong. "You took out an entire crew of men. You're still the most fearless, pigheaded, toughest man I know, Zander Wilde."
"What's that they say about falling apples?" I ask. I lower my face and stare down at my hands. Both of them are swollen from throwing my fists at those assholes. It's easier to look at my bruised hands, than into her breathtaking face. "In the end, you rescued me, Nev. As usual."
She's silent for a second, and I can't find the courage to look at her. I suppose courage wasn't on the list because I'm acting the full coward.
"You're kidding, right?" she finally asks. "You got on a wave runner, rode a rough sea out to a boat and climbed on board without having a clue how big the crew was. I'll never forget the sight of those big, steel-toed boots stomping down the steps to the galley. I knew who they belonged to with the first step. As tough and brave as I'd been acting with those assholes, seeing your boots, I instantly broke down in tears." Her voice has gone from strong and confident to wavering and thin. I'm not used to hearing the latter, and it tears at my heart. I only ever want her to be strong and confident and happy and … a part of my life. "Look at me, damn it," she says with a small foot stomp.
I lift my gaze to hers, and it takes both of us a second to come out of that trance that always takes over when the two of us are looking at each other.
"You rescued me," she says firmly. "And next time, don't wear fucking steel-toed boots when you're about to be thrown in the ocean." Tears fill her eyes. I reach for her hand, but she draws it back and shakes her head. "When are we ever going to end this circus act, Zander? We play this weird game every fucking time. We both know each other better than anyone else in this whole damn town, the whole damn world, but sometimes it's like we're complete strangers doing this bizarre dance around each other. Indi is giving Kiki and me a ride home. Jameson is waiting for you. Thanks again for coming out to the boat, and I'm not apologizing for dragging a half-conscious man out of the water, even if it hurt his oversized, cantankerous ego."
"I'm not cantankerous," I call to her as she walks out. "Whatever the fuck that means," I mutter to myself after she's left the room.
twenty-four
Nev
"I'm making pancakes." Kinsley leans her face into the room and then steps inside. "How are you feeling?" She runs to the bed, hops on and, once again, hugs me tightly. She spent the entire evening crying about how she might have lost me and then she'd be an orphan all over again. It was sweet and heartfelt, but this morning the hug goes on too long.
"Kiki, I'm not going to disappear if you let go of me. I promise."
She sighs. "All right. I'm being the pesky little sister. I'm sorry."
"No, you're not pesky, and I'm sorry for giving you such a scare." I lift my nose. "Is something burning?"
"The pancakes!" Kinsley flies off the bed and runs to the kitchen.
My cheek is sore now that the numbing agent has worn off. I'm going to have a small scar for sure, but it could have been much worse. My shoulders are sore from trying to get my hands free, and my wrists are bandaged to cover the loss of skin, but otherwise, it feels like everything is where it should be. When I set my feet on the floor, the rocking of the ocean has finally left, and my equilibrium is back on solid ground. I jolted myself awake several times dreaming that I was falling. All in all, it was a crappy night of sleep, but that had less to do with the pain in my shoulders and mental rocking of the boat than the last words I spoke to Zander.
Once we got home from the hospital, I sat in a hot bath for thirty minutes, and I replayed the whole unfortunate adventure in my head many times. All of it was shocking and hard to believe, but the only part that really stood out were my last moments with Zander in the hospital room.
I pull on jeans and my coziest sweater. The house is warm, but even after the hot bath, there's still a chill in my bones from being in the water. In fact, the whole damn thing has left a chill in my bones. What an idiot I am when it comes to men, all men. Dane seemed like a decent, successful guy. He had some qualities that were less than stellar, but I never pictured him as the sketchy arms dealer type. I completely misjudged him and I plan never to make a mistake like that again. I'm married to my business, and it's going to stay that way. My sandwich shop never disappoints me or lectures me or makes me feel guilty for doing the right thing.
Kinsley has the table set with our favorite fall placemats. Some of Nana's yellow roses are sitting in a vase in the middle of the table. The blooms are almost all gone from her rose bushes. Soon it will be time to prune them. There's a short stack of semi-burned pancakes on a plate next to a cup of coffee. I go straight for the coffee and take a bracing sip. "They say chocolate is the food of the gods, but honestly, I think it's coffee."
"Then it would be the drink of the gods," Kinsley reminds me. "So chocolate can retain its throne." She sits down at her own plate of slightly overcooked pancakes and stares down at them with a scowl. "How the hell did Nana get every single pancake so perfectly golden? Mine are either white and doughy or charred and bitter."
"I think your pancakes are perfect, Kiki. Thank you for making breakfast."
