Page 35 of Made for Wilde
We're definitely not going anywhere tomorrow morning.
I clean up the kitchen, taking my time with each dish, each surface. Anything to delay the moment when I'll have to lie on that couch, knowing Charlotte is in my bed just down the hall.
When I finally turn off the lights and stretch out under a blanket, the cushions still hold traces of her scent from where she sat earlier.
Outside, the storm rages on, ice building on every surface, turning my property into a frozen landscape.
Inside, a different kind of storm builds in my chest.
I stare at the ceiling, listening to the wind howl through the trees and the occasional crack of a branch giving way under the ice.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Charlotte in my shirt, her wet hair catching the light, the way she looked at me when I offered to let her practice on me. The trust in her eyes. The hope.
The compassion when I told her about Vanessa, about the baby that wasn't mine. She hadn't flinched, hadn't offered empty platitudes. Just genuine sympathy that made me feel a little less alone with that old pain.
I roll over, punching the pillow into a more comfortable shape.
Tomorrow morning, I'm going to let Jason Palmer's daughter put her hands in my hair, stand close enough that I'll be able to count her freckles. I'm going to sit still while she touches me in ways I haven't let anyone touch me in years.
It's either the stupidest decision I've ever made, or the best one.
Probably both.
EIGHT
CHARLOTTE
I can't sleepthe entire night.
My body is exhausted, but my mind refuses to shut down. Every creak of the cabin makes me freeze, wondering if it's him. Is he coming down the hall? Will he knock on the door? Should I want him to?
I pull the covers up to my chin, staring at the ceiling.
What am I even doing here? This is Koda. My dad's best friend.
But he's also the man who looked at me tonight like he was seeing me—really seeing me—for the first time.
I strain my ears for any sound of movement from the living room, but there's nothing except the storm and the occasional pop from the dying fire.
He's not coming.
Of course he's not coming. He's Koda Wilde. He has morals and boundaries and loyalty to my father that runs deeper than blood.
Still, I can't help the tiny spark of disappointment that flickers in my chest.
Around midnight, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I grab it, squinting at the bright screen.
**Sarah:** Hey! Just saw the news about the ice storm up there. Roads are supposed to be terrible. You doing okay?
I bite my lip, considering how much to tell her.
**Me:** Yeah, I'm fine. Power went out at my place though.
**Sarah:** Oh no! Are you freezing? Do you need me to call someone?
**Me:** Actually... Koda showed up and brought me to his cabin. I'm staying here until the roads clear.
There's a long pause. Then:
