Page 102 of Wild As Her

"Yeah," he says, voice rough. "Business partners."

And damn it, that hurts more than it should, seeing something like disappointment crossing his face.

He clears his throat. "I'm sorry about your mom. Maybe she'll come around. But if she doesn't, that'll be her loss."

I laugh, watery. "You always say the right thing. It's annoying."

"I could say something dumb to balance it out. Want me to insult you again?"

I snort. "You try it, and I'll dump a bucket of horse shit in your truck."

He grins, and something in me eases.

Enemies. Friends. Something more. Whatever this is, it's feeling likeeverything.

Why is it that letting Jack in feels like the scariest thing in the world?

Chapter 25

Jack

Chapters by Trenton Tanner

Ispot her the second the hospital automatic doors slide open at Bridger Falls Memorial.

Teresa Kendrick, otherwise known as Cami and Ollie's mom.She looks nothing like her daughter, as Cami always looked more like her grandmother.

Teresa’s hair is pulled back in a tight bun that looks uncomfortable. Her scrubs are wrinkled, and a frown is etched deep into her face like it’s lived there for years. She looks exhausted, probably not just from the night shift she just pulled. Teresa has been an unhappy person for a while, and everyone in town knows it.

She slows when she sees me, folds her arms over her chest, and glares.

Figures I’d be the last person she'd want to run into at the end of her shift. But I’m not here for small talk.

I hold up the coffee. “Peace offering."

Hergaze darts to the paper cup in my hand, then back to my face. “What do you want? Is this some kind of trap?” she mutters, tugging her jacket tighter around her.

“Nope,” I say calmly, shaking my head. “Just coffee. And conversation.”

She hesitates. Looks over towards her car and then back at me. “You’ve got five minutes.”

It’s more than I expected that she'd give me.

She walks over slowly, like she’s still not convinced I’m not here to do something. I hand her the coffee, and she takes it with a sigh, wrapping her hands around it like it might burn through the chill in the air, and whatever guard she has up.

We lean against the hood of my truck in the half-empty parking lot. The sun’s just starting to rise. The air smells like cold pavement and coffee.

“I’m not here to start anything,” I say. “I just want to talk.”

She looks at me over the lid of her cup. “What do you want to talk about?"

I glance over at her, sizing her up. “Do you love your daughter?”

Her shoulders are stiff.“Of course I do,” she snaps, as if I’ve insulted her.

“Then why don’t you show it?” I counter, softly.

That one lands, and she flinches. She blinks and looks away. “She’s… hard.”

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