Page 10 of Wild Child
“Your Mom will cry.”
He chuckled again, and the darkness had passed. My heart cracked with a Devin-deep fissure. He was the same. Three years, two deployments, and countless hours of unknown life separated us, but he was still Devin.
How could he just show up?
Another burdened silence weighed heavy in the air as I grabbed a cup and filled it with coffee. Then I added cream, sugar, and a hint of cinnamon on top. Once I finished, I set the lid on, then stared at it.
My brain whirled in two capacities:
1. Do something so he’d go away.
2. Figure out why Devin had returned.
Neither was feasible at this moment. He cleared his throat.
“I, uh . . . I didn’t tell anyone because I was afraid you’d disappear again, like you did a year or so ago.” His shoulders lifted as he drew in a deep breath. “I was afraid you’d leave, and I wouldn’t get a chance to see you. Or talk to you.”
Shock dropped all pretenses. “I would have.”
He winced. “I know.”
My hands shook as I reached for another empty cup, set it back down in a different spot, then grabbed a rag from the sink.
I’m not the only one that’s been running away,I wanted to say.
Tables. I could wipe those down. Because there was a dusty, forgotten box in the corner of my mind trembling with the urge to break. To remind me of the past, of what I’d locked away. But I clamped back down on it because that box had been destroyed the night of prom. Somehow, it had built itself back up. Now, it sat there with thick armor and a low growl that dared anything that might poke it. Inside the ravaged box waited affection, adoration, hope, dreams, and lo— . . . the box would be gone now. Empty, demolished by time. But wasn’t that the scariest part of all?
Maybe, inside that box, there was nothing left.
“I’m glad you stopped by.” I avoided his gaze as I shoved a chair under a table, then wiped the already clean surface. I could feel his eyes on my back. “But I need to be going soon. Just getting ready to clear out of here.”
“It’s your birthday.”
I bit back my instant retort.You don’t get to know everything about me now, Dev. You gave that up.
So I said nothing.
“I brought you something.”
The sound of a box settling on the counter followed. Whatever it was, it must be pocket-sized, because he hadn’t been holding anything when he’d walked in. With ferocious intent, I wiped down the next table. My throat had nearly swollen closed.
He hesitated, somewhere behind me out of arms reach. I stopped, straightened, and for one moment gave into the thoughts that streamed through my head.
How dare you?
Don’t ever come back again.
Please don’t die out there.
You left.
Tell me everything.
I’d dreamed—consciously and unconsciously—of this moment so many times. Most of them revolved around him coming home while I dated someone else, or just finished a guide, returned from South America, or some other big, awesome life event. Then I’d smile, act delighted to see him, and prove that I didn’t need him to be happy. ThenIwould leavehim,so he’d know that he made the right mistake by lying and abandoning me and my dreams.
Instead, I leaned both palms against the table and tried to catch my breath. Tried to convince myself that I could shove my happiness in his face and that I wanted to. But I could barely organize my thoughts.
“Ellie—”
