Page 68 of Almost Home
We hadn’t fought since reconnecting. We’d been in that sweet beginning stage of a relationship when things were easy, though that wasn’t quite right either. We had history—much of it painful. We weren’t a normal couple starting to date. But was that even the right word for it—reconnecting?
We were… moving ahead. Toward each other. Together?
But, were we? In truth, I didn’t know. How could I, when I hardly knew where I was going?
I shook my head at the thought, frustrated to feel eager about Wilder even while his pushiness irritated me.
He’d seen me upset after the call yesterday, and I’d made clear they’d influenced my time with Aaron. I would have to tell him more—good, bad, and ugly—at some point. But his judgmental approach, like he knew everything he needed to know about how things had gone with my parents before and during what amounted to more than half my life… he didn’t.
I’d made mistakes, too. Yes, my parents had held me back, attempted to control me, and I’d been walking a path toward accepting how everything had happened for years. But that was just it, wasn’t it? After being entrenched in that relationship and those patterns for so long, after having their focus and support for far longer than I might have had things between Wilder and me not changed, or Eddie not having essentially fled the scene the minute she could, maybe it would’ve been different. MaybeIwould’ve been.
I wasn’t. I hadn’t. And I’d had to admit there were times I’d let them steamroll me because it was easier—the path of least resistance against them but also in life overall. I’d been lost, and they’d given me direction.
Sifting through all of this had taken a full year of therapy, and even now, I had thoughts and feelings that niggled at me, patterns of behavior and ways of thinking that threatened to slip back down the slope. But I had moved here as a promise to myselfandto my parents—that I would live my life on my terms. And no, I wouldn’t be going back. I’d told them as much and I didn’t need him to tell me not to go visit.
Maybe it shouldn’t have infuriated me to have Wilder speak to that part of my life like he knew everything just because he’d seen it years ago and now thought he saw the same thing, but it did. I’d made progress, so much progress, andoh.That was it. His railing against them made it feel like he didn’t see how I’d grown. It felt like he still saw me as this hapless teen who’d follow her parents anywhere, even at the risk of her own mental health. Even at the risk of the most important things in her life.
With a giant sigh, I checked my watch and shut down the computer. Five minutes until Saint Securities officially closed and with no one coming in until next week, safe to say I could shut things down. After that conversation, I wanted to get out of here and go to a movie or do something. On top of all the crap with Wilder, I couldn’t get rid of this nagging worry for Madeline Reynolds, a woman I didn’t even know and should feel no real feelings for. But I’d seen an article online today about how people were speculating about her sabbatical like it was due to everything from drug addiction to a secret pregnancy to mental incapacity.Ugh.
The last major to do had been sending off a list of things we’d done for the Reynolds account, and hopefully Anthony would get back to me on anything we were missing. We’d see her again in-office next week, and I couldn’t even dwell on the nerves I knew I’d have thanks to this drama with Wilder.
Actually, despite the confrontation, what I most wanted to do was check on him. He hadn’t been himself all day, and the way he’d talked to me only reinforced my suspicion that his issues with my parents weren’t really the cause of his mood.
Well, maybe partly. He’d always disliked the dynamic between us and I couldn’t blame him—he’d had an outside perspective, even at seventeen. But in the hour since he’d left, I’d remembered. Today was the day—the anniversary of his friends’ passings, and he’d mark it by himself for the first time.
I couldn’t fathom it. Not the losses in the past or the solitude now. I’d faced hardships alone, but I’d always had Eddie a call away. Here in Silverton, I had my friends. He had his brothers in arms and his blood brothers, but the man was also stubborn as all get out. And based on today, I had to do something.
After securing the building, I pulled my purse over my shoulder and marched straight over to Warrick’s gym. He was standing outside chatting with one of his many super fit patrons.
“Sarah James, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He sauntered over and set his hands on his hips. I noticed only then that he had a sheen of moisture on his brow, and the center of his shirt was discolored with sweat.
“I’m sorry to interrupt. I just need a second of your time, if you have it?”
“No interruption. We finished a few minutes ago. What’s up?”
Straightening my spine, I met his eyes. “This might sound odd, but I think you should go hang out with Wilder tonight.”
That gaze sharpened. “Why? Is he okay?”
I shifted from foot to foot. I didn’t want to make a bigger deal of this than I should, but something told me Wilder needed his brothers. I hoped he wouldn’t hate me for this. He’d stated very clearly he didn’t wantmethere, but I couldn’t stand the thought of him alone with this.
“Today is the anniversary of some of his friends’ deaths, I guess.”
He loosed a breath. “Dang. Brutal.”
I nodded. “And he usually is with his Army friends. This is the first year he’s out, and I think…”
He snagged his phone from a pocket and dialed as he spoke. “Say no more. I’m on it. Thanks for telling me. I’ve got this—thank you.” He nodded at me and started walking as I heard him say, “Wyatt, cancel your plans tonight and head this way.”
I smiled to myself as relief swept in. Warrick would handle this. Wilder would forgive me, and hopefully I’d see him tomorrow and could apologize yet again.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
Wilder
The whiskey burned, hot and dark, as memories slipped through me. They’d been doing that all day, as though the anniversary’s dawning signaled to my brain to pull every moment I’d spent with the men I remembered tonight and march them across my mind in a painful parade.
I should get a dog.Or a cat. Cats were chill. Kind of aloof and quiet—pleasantly standoffish. Wyatt’s puppy was a few months old now and he was cute, but annoying. Too much cheery in-your-faceness.Yeah. I’ll get a cat.
