Page 55 of Made for Wilde
“That’s great.” I stare into my empty glass. “And work?”
“Busy.” I hear rustling, like she’s getting into her car. “I actually just got off. I worked the lunch crowd today.”
“Right.” I scrub a hand over my face. “Look, I shouldn’t have called. This was stupid. I’ll let you go.”
I’m about to hang up when I hear her voice, smaller now, almost a whisper.
“Don’t.”
The word hangs between us, fragile and full of promise.
“Don’t what?” My heart hammers against my ribs.
“Don’t hang up.” Her breath catches. “I miss you, Koda.”
Those four words crack something open inside me.
Relief floods through my veins like a drug. I close my eyes and grip the phone so tight my knuckles turn white.
“I miss you too, baby.” The words slip out before I can stop them. “So fucking much it’s driving me crazy.”
She makes a small sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. About everything.”
“Same here.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “I’ve been... Christ, I don’t even want to tell you what I’ve been doing. You’d get a restraining order.”
“Have you been driving by the school?” There’s amusement in her voice now. “Because I thought I saw your truck yesterday.”
I groan, embarrassed at being caught.
“Once or twice. Maybe three times.”
She actually laughs then, the sound warming me more than the whiskey ever could.
“I’ve been driving up the mountain. Not all the way to your cabin, but... close enough to feel like I might run into you.”
The confession makes my heart swell, knowing she’s been as miserable as I have.
For a moment, I let myself believe that maybe there’s a way forward for us, some path I haven’t seen yet.
“But we can’t do this.” Her voice turns serious again. “You know we can’t. My dad?—”
“Would kill me.” I finish for her. “I know.”
“And then there’s the age difference. And everyone would talk, and it would be so complicated, and?—”
“I know, sweetheart.” I cut her off gently. “I know all the reasons we shouldn’t.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of reality settling back around us like a shroud.
“So we stick to the plan?” Her voice is small again. “We stay away from each other?”
The logical part of my brain, the part that knows right from wrong, that understands consequences and responsibility, says yes. That’s exactly what we do. We stay away from each other, and eventually, the wanting will fade. The missing will stop. Life will go back to normal.
But my heart, the traitorous bastard, has other ideas.
“Yeah,” I lie. “That’s the plan.”
