Page 1 of These Reckless Hearts

1

Ihave a story to tell you, baby girl.

Cole’s words repeat in my head like a skipping record. Everyone I’ve ever loved—bar the three most important men in my life—has let me down. Dickie cheated my family. My dad...isn’t my dad. What do I call him now? Clark Wilder? I’m a fucking Wilder. It’s all I know.The treasureis all I know, and Cole yanked out the stable footing of the only thing in this life I was sure of.

I’m Dakota Wilder.

I come from a long line of treasure hunters.

I will find the Wilder treasure.

I’ve been lying to myself for years, and my dad—Fuck.Clark—is behind all of it. Not only that, but I can’t even rage at him because he’s fucking dead.

I wrap my arms tighter around Lucas, the beeping of the hospital machine next to us the perfect backdrop to the rampant thoughts strangling me. Cole and Stone are dealing with the shitshow back at the mansion. Two of Cole’s bodyguards dropped me off at the hospital so I could be with Lucas and Wyatt, and they’re now thankfully stationed outside the room, providing me peace of mind from the clusterfuck that the last twelve hours have been.

I haven’t told Lucas and Wyatt what happened yet. I simply slipped into Lucas’ hospital room on my tiptoes and slid in next to him on the bed without a word. He held me to him, welcoming me with open arms and zero questions. Wyatt, too, pulled his chair closer to silently comfort me with a gentle hand on my hip.

Their wordless comfort is exactly what I needed, and not having to voice my wants but having them taken care of anyway, is a blessing.

I keep waiting for the tears to come, but they’re blocked by a bitterness I can’t escape. I lost the man I believed was my dad. He’s gone. Murdered. Taken from me with no hesitation. Yet I’m a dried-up well.

The nurses, for some reason or another, don’t balk at me being in the room, no less my spot on the bed right next to Lucas. They do their rounds, and I don’t even lift my head away from Lucas’ chest when they take his vitals. They want him to rest his vocal cords, so he communicates via marker and a lined, yellow pad. Even laid out in a hospital bed, he’s my rock. He’s the surest thing I have. With his palms wrapped in gauze, he runs his hands up and down my arm and through my hair.

The only other movement is Wyatt pulling the blankets over me when the nurses come in so they don’t spy my blood-stained clothes and arms. Though, I have a feeling that Stone or Cole arranged their silence, so the precaution is probably unnecessary.

I must’ve fallen asleep at some point because I wake to low whispers from the two men in the room. They’re discussing me as I lay here, keeping my eyes closed. “She’s so beautiful,” Wyatt murmurs, and his fingers trail over my hip bone in soft caresses.

“Strong, too,” Lucas replies, his whisper hoarse, and I pray to God that he gets his smooth, rich voice back. I need to hear it again.

Those assholes Lance hired hurt him. They tried to kill us. Anger courses through me at their blatant disrespect for human life.

My mouth parts, and a wash of reality hits me in the chest.Ikilled someone today. Funnily enough, I haven’t dissected killing Marissa’s dad until this very moment. I wait for some emotion to wrack me but it never comes. I feel absolutely no regret. I saw him pointing a gun at someone who didn’t deserve to die, and I didn’t hesitate. Replaying the scene doesn’t do anything to me either. Bloodshed and all, I’m numb.

“Stone’s asking if she’s talking yet.” Short clicks of Wyatt’s fingers over his phone screen sound. “He’ll be on his way soon. He’s trying to get his mother settled.”

I tense. “He better not be bringing her here,” I blurt, speaking for the first time. I lift my head and stare at Wyatt. “I don’t want her at the house either.”

I swallow. Man, I’ve got some balls today. Let me just tell Stone who he can and cannot have in his own house. Oh well. He owes me for standing at an altar with a girl who wasn’t me.

“You’re awake.” Wyatt’s fingers stop flying over his phone. He tucks it away, drags me off the bed, and onto his lap, blanket and all. “Let’s give Lucas a rest.”

Lucas all but snorts. “You’ve been chomping at the bit to hold her. Just be real.”

“Fine. I’m jealous as fuck, and I need a little Dakota time.” Wyatt props his feet up on the metal frame of the bed and holds me to his chest, tucked into a ball with my head on his shoulder. His cowboy hat is nowhere to be seen. I reach up to run my fingers through his dark hair, my nails gently scraping the raised ridge on his head.

My family scars can’t be felt like Wyatt’s but they’re still present all the same.

Lucas’s private room is fairly large. It’s like we’re in a bubble, separated from the chaos out in the hospital proper which only drifts in when the nurses appear. The tinge of sterile cleaning supplies burns my nose. In the corner, a flat screen TV is angled toward us, hanging mere inches from the ceiling, but it stays off.

We have enough of our own drama. We don’t need to watch TV for it.

Wyatt’s phone rings, and he shifts, lifting his hips to grab it out of his pocket before bringing the device to his ear. “Yeah?” A voice permeates the phone’s speakers on the other end of the line but it’s not one I expected. It’s Cole. Wyatt’s gaze darts to me. “The gangster wants to meet with you.” He holds the phone away from his ear and gives me his full attention. “Is that acceptable?”

I’m not ready to see Cole yet, but I also don’t want to play phone tag either. Since this is my burden to take on, I hold my hand out for Wyatt’s phone, and he places it in my palm. “Hello?”

“Hey, baby girl,” Cole breathes, a thread of relief washing over his words. “Are you okay?”

I bite the inside of my lip. How in the hell do I answer that question when nothing’s really wrong with me physically but mentally is a whole different story? “What do you want, Cole?”

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