Page 55 of Wilde's End
I think calling Booker anactualdoctor is pushing things, but I can’t deny that he knows what he’s talking about.
Kennedy reaches over and takes the drill from my hand. “I’m breaking for lunch, and there isn’t a whole lot else for us to do today. Go down now, and at least you’ll be back before it’s dark.”
I don’t want to leave him with it, but I take the dismissal for what it is. Kennedy is one of those people where you genuinely feel like shit for letting them down. I want to fix things and get his happiness back, but the only way I can think of to do that is by promising him that whatever happened with me and Wilde is done.
But it would be a lie.
Because even with Wilde disappearing on me, I’m almost positive it will happen again.
You don’t have sex like we did and then walk away unaffected.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
WILDE
Istay focused. Every day, I have my list, and I get to work. Fixing fences and repairing houses, checking the land for any areas that are prone to fires once the peak of summer hits. I train in the mornings, and late afternoons, I visit the Cutty and try to be social. I work myself to exhaustion until it’s late, and the only things I want to do are eat and pass out.
So far, it’s working for me.
But it’s only been three days, and there’s no way this is sustainable.
I stop my truck along the side of my house, tired from a long day helping the Raylons with the extra bedroom they’re adding to their place. JJ has just turned fourteen, and he’s past old enough to have his own room, so Rooney, Ziggy, and I lent Paul and Arleen a hand with getting the frame built properly.
It was on the tip of my tongue, so many times, to ask Gracie to make me another pot like the one Hudson broke. She’s always been such a sweet kid, but asking for a gift doesn’t feel the same.So I’m left to stare at that empty place on the table where it should still be while I deal with all these mixed feelings Hudson brings out in me.
I climb out of my truck, cursing that it’s still too early for bed. The sun is high enough that I have a few hours to fill before I can realistically sleep, and for half a second, I debate jumping back in the cab and heading to the ridge that overlooks Old End.
But I’m not going to give in to that temptation because I know exactly two things will happen.
One, I’ll remember every moment of the night I’m trying to block from my memories, and two, that curdling anger and frustration at them selling off the town will grow. There’s no winning at this. Sex was temporary relief from the irritation Hudson fills me with, but that can only put it off for so long. Because he’s set on destroying my home, and that’s not something I can forgive.
I lock my truck—not something I ever do—because it gives a strong signal to myself that I’m not going anywhere else tonight. There’s a flurry of birds in the trees overhead, a breeze almost strong enough to keep the spring heat away, but otherwise, everything is quiet and still.
Like it should be.
I throw a quick look out at my house to make sure no one is lurking inside, and then I strip off my shirt and head for the swimming hole. It’s one of the reasons I decided to build my home here. It’s about a hundred yards away, through the trees, and where I like to unwind after a long day.
The swimming hole has craggy rocks around three sides, with trees towering over it. The sun is low enough that it’s not hitting the water anymore, but I know from experience that it’ll be warm from the day.
A steady trickle of water falling from rock bounces around the small space, and I check that there’s no wildlife hanging aroundbefore I strip off. The last thing I want is a bear taking a drink while my dick is out.
It doesn’t matter how attractive Hudson is; I’ll never understand someone like him. I stride deep into the water, letting myself feel every drop, every shift in the breeze, every rock under my feet. This, right here, is the real prize. It’s not money or success. It’s this. Taking in the surroundings and appreciating how incredible it is.
I dive under the surface, cutting myself off from everything as I swim to the other side.
In a lot of ways, I feel sorry for the people who live in big cities and don’t know what they’re missing out on. I never did. And it shouldn’t have taken something traumatic for me to understand what the difference is between living and existing. Living will always be a work in progress, but I’m getting better at it.
Movement catches my eye up on the shore, and my heart rate spikes as I see Hudson pause by the place I left my pants. His gaze flicks from them to me, and like he’s making up his mind, he strips off his shirt.
I’m treated to an eyeful of his body, chest and torso a road map of pinks and browns as he heals from his accident.
“Hey,” he says, lifting his voice enough for me to hear him. “Didn’t know there was a dress code.”
Then he shoves his shorts and underwear down in one.
Heat rolls over my head and passes south. I’d been careful not to look too closely the other night, but as Hudson walks lazily to the water, there’s nothing stopping me this time. You’d think common sense would do its part and catch up, but it’s apparently deserted me as I drink in everything from Hudson’s broad shoulders to his trim waist, slightly eager cock, and thick, long legs.
