Page 66 of Wilde's End
A nod.
I finally catch on to what Kennedy is doing. This guy can talk,but he clearly doesn’t want to, at least around us. “Was it Wilde?” I cut in.
Ziggy’s gaze flicks my way, but he stops short of looking at me. He doesn’t confirm it either, just shifts his weight to the other foot and kicks at the dirt.
“I’m going to take that as a yes,” I say, and still there’s no answer.
“Did …” Kennedy squints toward the cart of tools. “Did Wilde tell you to bring them back to us?”
Another pause, then another nod.
Well, fuck.
I attacked the messenger.
Both hands rake back through my hair. We’re in a new place, but I’m still the same me. When does this end? “I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry.”
He doesn’t acknowledge me at all, and I can’t say I blame him. What was supposed to bring out the best in us is bringing out the worst in me, and I don’t love it. I’m so tense and on edge, and you’d think after that muscle-melting orgasm last night, I’d be in a way better headspace, but it’s worse. It’s so much worse. Because I already want it again, and that’s driving the guilt in deeper because it should never have happened at all.
“This can’t keep happening,” I say, more to myself than to them. “This whole fucking thing is so fucking stupid.”
Kennedy ignores me. “You like it here?” he asks Ziggy.
Once again, the guy wordlessly confirms it.
“Is Wilde giving the tools back as a peace offering?”
A shrug is the only answer.
“Did he also clean the motorcycle?”
Ziggy shakes his head quickly, then glances at me like he’s worried I’ll come for him again, before turning all his attention on Kennedy. He points at his chest.
“Youdid it?” Kennedy’s expression softens. “Thank you. That was really nice.”
Ziggy goes on staring at the ground.
I exchange a look with my brother because I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now. All I know is that I want to be done with this. The short fuse is nothing new, but I don’t want to make everyone into my enemy, and if Wilde is giving us these back, it makes me think that whatever that thing was last night, he felt it too.
Maybe he’s realized I’m not a walking dildo either.
That doesn’t feel like a good thing.
“This is going to sound random,” I warn them both. “But I think I need to talk to Wilde.”
“Talk?” Kennedy repeats, sounding wary.
“Yes.Talk.” Because with all the times we’ve griped at each other, we’ve never actually tried that. It sounds offensively boring, but I’m willing to try anything at this point. Who knows? Maybe if Wilde knew how desperately I need to tear his town apart, he might suddenly be okay with it. Doubtful, but he can’t say I didn’t try.
“Is he home?” I ask Ziggy.
Silent treatment again. I deserve it, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating. I give Kennedy thehelp meeyes that he clearly finds amusing, but he does it anyway.
“If Hudson goes to Wilde’s house, will he find him there?”
Ziggy lifts his shoulders again.
“Fuck it, I’m going anyway.”
