Page 13 of Wild and Wrangled

My throat closed again. I didn’t know what I did in a past life to make these people care about me so much, but it must’ve been really damn good.

“Thank you,” I said, and Emmy laid her head on my shoulder.

“Are you going to be okay, Cam?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” I said dryly.

“You do, actually,” Emmy said. “You can cry and scream and fall apart. You can do whatever you want. You don’t have to be okay right now. It’s just us…and Ada, I guess. But she’s conked out.”

I let out a half laugh. Much to my surprise, tears welled up in my eyes at Emmy’s words. Ever since I found out I was pregnant with Riley, Emmy has been the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister, which is saying something considering that I actuallydohave a sister. But Violet couldn’t even be botheredto show up to my wedding, let alone help me pick up the pieces afterward.

“I don’t know what to do next, Emmy.”

“Well, I think you can start by getting some sleep. Everything looks different in the light of day.”

“And after that?”

“You start over,” Emmy said softly. “And you lean on the people around you who love you and your daughter. You let us help.”

The Ryders had never been anything but kind and loving to me, but sometimes I couldn’t help but wonder if they would have shown me love like this if I hadn’t gotten pregnant. I was a necessary part of their family because I was Riley’s mom, but would they have ever really wanted me on my own? I put walls up with everyone, but even my highest and strongest walls crumbled around the Ryders. You couldn’t help but love them, and love had always scared me a little.

“I don’t know if I can do that, Em,” I whispered.

“Why not?”

“I don’t even know if I can start over because I don’t know if I ever actually started in the first place.”

Chapter 7

Cam

Fifteen Years Ago

“Camille.” Dusty’s voice came from the seat behind me. Since the bell hadn’t rung yet, I turned around to face him with an eye roll.

“What do you want, Dusty?”

He flashed me a smile that I felt in my stomach. He did it all the time. I didn’t have a lot of experience with boys. All the ones I’d ever known were trust fund kids who had never been denied anything and loved to flaunt their dad’s money. They didn’t interest me, and I didn’t interest them.

But Dusty interested me—at least as a friend. I hadn’t really made a lot of friends yet. Just Wes Ryder, but he was nice to everyone. I knew some of the other girls on the soccer team, but I was a late addition, so the cliques had already formed. But since my first day, I could almost always count on Dusty stopping by my locker to say good morning, and he carried my books when we were going the same direction. It was nice.

Being at Meadowlark High was so different from being at any of my other schools. I knew it would be. That’s why I wanted to come here.

My dad bought a house here a few years ago. A house and a lot of land. There were rumors of oil in Meadowlark, and my dad had money to spare, so he tried to get ahead of it. The first time we came here, I was enamored by all of it—the way the main street felt, how everyone waved at one another without a second thought. It seemed welcoming, like anyone could find their place here, and I had never really felt like I had found a place anywhere. I wanted to feel that sort of connection, that sense of belonging. I wanted to immerse myself in every part of this town—including the high school.

My parents said no at first—I knew they would. And usually, I’d let it go, because I always did when it came to the things that I wanted that didn’t mesh with their desires. I knew that’s what they expected me to do.

But I didn’t. I didn’t push hard, but I pushed. I gave them lists of pros—a decent number of AP classes, good athletics, and free (because the only thing they loved more than making money? Holding on to it). Plus, I already had as many college credits as a junior as Violet had when she graduated. With the AP classes available at Meadowlark High, I’d technically be ahead of her. After a few months, they said yes and told me to stop talking about it. I don’t think they were used to me using my voice.

That’s how I learned that the only thing my parents wanted more than control was quiet.

“Can I borrow a pencil?” Dusty asked.

“Do you need me to buy you some pencils?” I asked. He asked me to borrow one every time we had English or history together—so basically every day.

“But then I couldn’t borrow yours,” he said with a wink.

I sighed and pulled a pencil out of my pouch and handed it to him. “You better give that back,” I said. “I just got those.” I loved this new pack of mechanical pencils, and I had color-coordinated them to my notebooks for each class.

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