Page 64 of First Verse

evangeline

After saying goodbye to Micah’s tearful mom—doubly overwhelmed by news of my leaving and a rock star’s surprise appearance in her son’s lesson—I head back to the room where I left Wilder.

Outside the door, I pause to listen to him playing. He unplugged his guitar so the sound isn’t as rich, but there’s no question of his innate talent. Or the song, which is one of ours.

“I see your shadow on the glass, Fairy.”

I press a hand against my tumbling stomach.Get your shit together.Steeling myself, I walk inside. The latch clicks behind me, the tiny sound making me flinch.

Wilder’s fingers flatten over the chords, his smile falling, brow furrowing. “Hey, what’s wr?—”

“Thank you,” I blurt. “I can’t tell you how much that meant to Micah. And me. How did you even know when—” I pause when I realize the answer is obvious. “Rye.”

He nods, still frowning. “I want to say ‘you’re welcome,’ but from the look on your face, I’m not sure you actually meant that.” He lays his guitar in its case and stands. “I, uh—I wanted to see you. I’m sorry if I crossed a boundary I shouldn’t have.”

“Why haven’t you come over the last two nights?” The words burst out of me without permission, expelling from the tender place inside me I’ve been studiously avoiding.

He looks startled, then relieved, then ravenous as he takes a step toward me. I suck in a breath and he stops, scanning my face.

“The truth?” he asks.

“Always.”

“I was going to come back over after rehearsal Sunday, but when I was getting ready to leave, the guys laid into me. They said I was giving off needy, codependent vibes. So I’ve spent the last two and a half days freaking out about it while missing you and trying not to call you a thousand times or show up at your house.”

I blink in surprise, then laugh as the underlying emotional strain of the last days drains away.

Wilder takes another step toward me, his shoulders losing some of their coiled tension. “Tell me why you’re laughing?”

I shrug, my grin slowly fading. “Next time, can you talk to me about what you’re feeling? I’ve been low-key wondering if I scared you off Saturday night.”

Long legs eat the space between us until we’re chest to chest, his hands cradling my head as I stare up at him.

“Nothing wouldeverscare me away from you.” The low, fervent words hum in my marrow. “Saturday night was perfect.You’reperfect.” He sighs. “The guys did have a point, though. I’m needy as fuck when it comes to you. I could barely sleep the last two nights without you, so we might as well check the box next to codependent as well. Shit, if you wanted to put a collar on me and drag me around by a leash, I’d let you.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

His brows rise, lips twitching. “Okay, what? Okay you like the idea of a collar on me, or okay you forgive me for not knowing what the fuck I’m doing when it comes to you?”

“The second one.” I tilt my head. “Maybe the first one, too.”

He drops his forehead to mine. “I don’t deserve you.”

Lifting onto my toes, I kiss him softly. “I don’t know what I’m doing either. Case in point, instead of asking you what the hell was going on?—”

“You got all up in your head about it, then shoved everything in a little box at the back of your brain.”

My mouth drops. “What?”

He kisses my forehead. “You’re my favorite song. I know every note. Plus, you’re a Taurus. Overthinking and compartmentalizing are your thing.”

My scowl of annoyance makes him laugh. Releasing me, he walks back to his guitar and closes the case. Over his shoulder, he asks lightly, “How was Sunday brunch?”

The shift in topic startles me. Then I understand what he’s getting at—he knows me—and I cover my cheeks to hide their quick flush.

“I, uh…”

Wilder chuckles as he stands, case in hand, and approaches me. He sets the case beside us, then tugs my fingers away from my face.

---