Page 37 of Almost Home
He gave a half-smile. “He talked to you after I was a jerk.”
“He made a compelling case for cutting you some slack.”
His brows lowered into a kind of scowl. “He’s a busybody.”
I chuckled, but the person to my left bumped me and I jolted forward. On reflex, I grabbed the bar with my left hand, and where my right would’ve flailed around, Wilder’s caught it and steadied me. Heat flashed through me at the contact with his skin and that firm grip.
“You okay?”
“Yes. It’s just crazy in here, right?” I hoped my searching glance around to indicate the madness of the pub hid how breathless his touch had made me.
“My first time in.”
“Ah. Well, it’s busier than usual, although I don’t normally go out on weekend nights so maybe I’m totally wrong.”
He still held my hand, but when I glanced down to see his slightly darker, calloused hand on mine, he released me.
“Should we go?”
“Would you want to see if we could stand outside? It’s not too cold, and I bet they have their heaters going. It can be nice.” I hated that I felt so unsure suggesting anything to him right now, but I did. I accepted his apology, but I didn’t know what to expect with him.
“Let’s go,” he said, and grabbed his beer, then my hand. He signaled something to Kieran, who gave him a nod of understanding. Apparently, he’d made peace with the man’s existence.
I took my drink in my free hand and followed behind Wilder, the touch of our palms and the way our fingers laced together sending little lightning flashes all up my arm. As though he had actually been here before, he stepped through the back door and out onto the deck. Only a few people hung out here, but Wilder led us to the farthest point of the deck and settled his beer on the table right next to a standing heater.
The sky hadn’t gotten fully dark yet, but the air had cooled enough that it had grown quite chilly. The heater helped, though.
“It cooled off quite a bit,” I said, removing my hand from his and focusing on the drink in front of me again. There were only so many times I could stare into the bubbles in my glass and avoid the gargantuan feelings pressing in on me, but I’d do it as long as I could get away with it.
“It feels good. Never got like this in North Carolina this late in the year. Is it too cold?”
I studied him in the dimming light. He’d trimmed his beard, though it was still substantial. It cut closer at his jaw now, serving to highlight his alarmingly good looks even more. Just taking him in like this made my stomach hurt a little.
“No. It’s fine. Did you like North Carolina?”
His eyes narrowed and he looked up at the glorious view of Silver Ridge Peak. “Parts.”
I waited, but when no more came, I let out a breathy laugh. His raised eyebrow was apparently all I’d get in response.
“You’re just still so… you.”
His intense gaze didn’t waver from mine. “Parts of me are. But… Sorry.”
“No. No, it’s not bad. It’s good.” How could I explain that I’d loved him? I’d loved this part of him. Of course, it’d driven me insane sometimes, but I’d loved him as he was when we were kids. Being around him outside of work made all those feelings seem very nearby.
He made a little harrumph of a sound. “Sure.”
I grabbed at his shirt, narrowly resisting the urge to set a hand against his heart. I’d wished I could hear it beat again—wished with every part of me in those days after I’d left Silverton, and often over the years, too.
“I mean it. I never made you feel like you had to be anything else, did I?” He knew I meant before.
His dark blue eyes looked black in the low light. “No. You didn’t.”
“Why do you say only parts of you are still you?” I asked, my voice sounding oddly shaky, and my heart feeling that, too.
He shook his head, and I wondered if that was all I’d get. But instead of leaving it there, he explained.
“I’m at a transition point in my life. I’ve felt a weird mix of lost and found leaving the Army. Being back here gives me that same sense.”
