Page 9 of Wild Child
Shortly after, he deployed to Afghanistan for a year. According to his mother, he’d recently returned.
Despite the errant thought of Devin that I tried to dismiss, my stubborn mind held on. Thoughts of my fifteenth birthday came next, when he’d helped me pick out Thor, my Rhodesian Ridgeback dog. Then my sixteenth birthday, when he sat in the passenger seat of my junker car with a helmet on after my license became official. Pain followed the memories like a river, so I turned my thoughts away again.
This is why birthdays sucked. Too many memories stacked behind them.
I eyed the clock. In fact, it was almost time toreallycelebrate. I had a few canyons to refresh myself on. There were back trails I’d taken before that avoided the highway, which saved time. I could ride for a few hours and be back for family dinner.
No one headed in from the parking lot outside, so I dashed out the back door, over to the outside loft entrance, and upstairs to the attic apartment where I lived. Hiking boots and maps littered my bed and floor as I shucked off my black pants and yanked on my jeans.
The distant sound of the door jingled below.
“Coming!” I called.
After I stuffed my feet into my boots, I grabbed a hair tie and slipped back down the winding stairs. Millie came to see me almost every day in between hair appointments for a caffeine boost. No doubt, she’d sneak in today. Boots untied, I carefully descended the stairs and hurried back through the door into the main area.
“Sorry about that. I—”
I jerked to a stop before I knew why. Tall figure. Broad shoulders with stacked muscles and thick arms. Sandy blond hair with slivers of brown, cropped too short to tell.
Devin.
For five seconds, I stared at him without comprehending fully. He pulled off a pair of reflective aviators, and those chocolate brown eyes met mine.
“Ellie.”
The word was tentative, maybe yearning. I couldn’t tell because my throat had closed off. Instead of responding, I stared at him.
Devin.
Devin.
Devin.
“Dev,” I heard myself say.
We stared at each other for a small eternity, nothing in the room but charged air and unspoken emotions. Dark emotions. Relieved emotions. Something that lived on the edge of hysteria and joy.
He looked so good. So . . . tan. So . . . torn. Was the edge in his eyes because of me? Millie kept me updated on him. Secretly, I sucked up every single word. He had supposedly returned from a twelve-month deployment at some point a few weeks ago, but the details were vague and uncertain, and I’d been busy at the outfitters. No one had mentioned him visiting.
I must have been staring at him too long because his gaze dropped. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to slow my breathing.
“I . . .” He clacked his teeth together. “I just got into town.”
“Oh.”
By sheer instinct, I stepped behind the counter and reached for my apron. My brain hardly comprehended what I did, but I felt purpose and stabilization in the movement.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
My voice was a breathy sound. A choked sob, maybe? I didn’t dare look at him to read his face. This entire sequence felt unreal. Like I moved through water. Like this was one of the thousands of dreams I’d had over the last three years where he’d walk back into my life, and I’d wake up to realize it was the last three years that had been the dream.
“No, thanks.”
I started making something anyway because I couldn’t just stand there. Nor could I look at him. The memories came too fast. Like whips, they burned.
“Glad you’re home safe,” I managed to say, and I meant it. I snuck a quick glance at him. Something dark clouded his features when he nodded, but he looked outside now, jaw tight.
“I didn’t tell my parents that I was coming. Wanted to surprise them.”
