Page 92 of Wild and Bright

She misses me, too.

“Yes, home.” It’s only when my voice quivers that I realize how close I am to tears. “You know it’s home. It’s home for you, and it’s home for Cadence. And for me, it’s not home unless both of you are there.”

She’s quiet for a moment. I hear only the static murmur of ambient noise through the phone, and I find myself holding my breath as I wait for her answer.

“What does that mean?” she eventually asks.

“It means I love you,” I say right away. “I love both of you. And I hate myself for everything I said on Saturday night. You’d have every right to hate me, too.” I exhale a shaky breath. “But I hope you don’t. I hope that you can forgive me.”

“Does this mean you trust me?”

I open my mouth, ready to tell her yes. Ready to tell her anything to get her home. But I find that I can’t say the word.

I can’t lie.

“I’m…” I try to swallow, but my mouth is too dry. “It’s really hard for me… You know how I am. But I’m okay not trusting you, and I’m going to try really hard not to be such a jealous control freak—”

“No. That’s not good enough.”

“Please, Lauren.” The words are barely above a whisper. “Just give me some time. Be patient with me.” I clench my teeth to fight the sob rising in my throat. “I’m begging you.”

“No.” Her tone is final. “I’ve been patient enough. I’m not asking much of you. I’ll forgive every control-freak thing you’ve done these past few months, and you’ve done a lot of things, honey. You know you have. I’ll even forgive you for tracking my location without my knowledge, like a fucking psychopath.”

I flinch, hating myself for my lack of conscience. I knew it was wrong the moment I did it, and I didn’t care. Knowing where she was made me feel better, and that was enough.

God, I’m a selfish bastard.

“But if you want to be with me,” she continues, “you need to say, ‘Lauren, I trust you’. And maybe throw in that you promise not to act like a complete psychotic lunatic the next time your brother hugs me. You know, to sweeten the pot a little. But the first one is non-negotiable. I will not come home until you tell me you trust me. And if you can’t do it, I won’t ever come home again. Understand?”

I can only grunt in response, and it feels dangerously close to a sob.

Goddamn it, why can’t I say the words? Why is it so hard? She isn’t eighteen anymore. She’s no longer the wild girl who broke my heart. I’ve known this for a while now. Maybe I’ve been holding on to a past version of her, too afraid of what would happen if I let it go. Maybe I’ve been so terrified of her that I’ve clung to my mistrust like an amulet, as if it could protect me from getting hurt if I lost her.

But I did lose her.

Mistrust hasn’t gotten me anywhere. When self-reflection threatens to choke my throat, I push it away. I can’t think about it now. I’m too exhausted, too frantic to find her.

“I have a lot to process,” I say. “Can you at least… Can you tell me where you are? So I’ll know for sure you’re both safe?”

She laughs, and even knowing it’s at my expense, the nasally sound of it is so sweet I want to weep.

“Sweetheart, no,” she says. “That’s your problem right here. You need to trust me when I tell you we’re both safe.

“We’ll be back in San Diego soon, and then you and I can figure out how we’re going to ease you into this whole father thing. I’ll even let you FaceTime Cadence now if you miss her, but I’m not telling you where we are, and I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”

“Not unreasonable.” My voice is so strained I can barely get the words out. “But it still fucking sucks.”

“Aww, honey. You sound tired.”

“I’m fucking exhausted.”

She sighs. “Go home and get some rest.”

When the line goes quiet, I fight the urge to slam the phone on the dashboard. Suddenly feeling that I can’t breathe, I throw open the car door. I only have one foot planted in the snow when a large hand reaches out and yanks the phone out of my loose grip.

“Dude!” Logan shouts. “Do you realize you broke into my house and stole my phone? We’re in Indiana. You pick the wrong house, and you’ll get shot for that.” He backs away, shaking his head. “I hope it was worth it.”

I shut my eyes tightly. “It wasn’t.”

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