Page 135 of Wild Card
Bash pulls me in again now, a tearful chuckle getting lost in the strands of my hair. “Like I said, a fucking wild card.”
I’m driven back to the fire hall. Tripp takes Bash’s truck while Bash drives mine, our hands gripped together over the center console the entire way.
We drive in silence for the first bit, and then, finally, Bash asks me what I know he’s been thinking since he found out I was missing. “What the hell were you thinking, Gwen?”
I sigh, my eyes fluttering shut as my head rests against the back of the seat. “I wasn’t. I was already emotional from our spat, and then Clyde was just so broken up over his only memories of Maya being at his place. I went to bed. I wasn’t going to do anything. But then I couldn’t sleep. I thought about how I’ve moved around constantly and how I don’t really have any physical objects that hold any kind of sentimental value to me.”
His thumb caresses my hand, and I continue. “And then I thought about Clyde, this funny old man who seems so tough and never worries about anything. He spends all this time alone, and he must have really loved Maya to have never moved on. And it broke my heart. It got me thinking about you and me, and the connections we make in life, and how he might never have that again. But he does have those pictures. And I just went without thinking.
“There was no blockade on the road. I drove straight up, and everything was fine. I packed up the truck, and then I thought, you know, what if I put some sprinklers on? Maybe it could save his place. I knew it would drain the well, but?—”
Bash’s hand squeezes mine. “It did save the place.”
“What?” I turn wide eyes on Bash.
“I’m not sure you realize how close that fire came, but the amount that you soaked the surrounding ground definitely made a difference. It’s blocked off now, and I can’t make any promises. But yes, currently you have saved Clyde’s place—and also shaved ten years off my life.”
One stray tear trickles down my cheek, and I brush it away quickly.Relief. I feel intense relief.
Bash glances over at me as he continues. “I fucking hate that you went missing,” he says, “but I have to confess, if I’d been in your shoes, I might have done the same thing.”
“Oh good. We both have a hero complex,” I tease as we turn into the local fire hall.
“Let’s get you checked over,” he says in a way that leaves no room for argument.
And from there, I’m led out of my truck and into the hall. A paramedic checks my blood pressure and my heartbeat. He asks if I’ve been injured, which of course I haven’t. But Bash hovers like an overprotective bodyguard all the same.
He reminds them to check my breathing, to check my eyes, goes on about how smoke inhalation can manifest in different ways. I assure him I’m fine, but until I’ve been fully cleared, he doesn’t back down.
It’s only when the paramedic leaves that we find Tripp standing quietly in the doorway, his shoulder propped against the frame. His eyes flick between us, his expression unreadable.
I drop my gaze from him, guilt surging inside me. Bash opens his mouth to say something, but his son speaks first.
“Listen,” Tripp says, his footsteps scuffing softly against the floor as he moves toward us in the nearly empty room. Only a foldout table and matching folding chairs fill the space. “I owe you both an apology.”
Bash and I both stare at him, surprised by that statement.
“If I’m being honest, I don’t know much about either of you. Bash, we’ve barely spent any time together. And, Gwen, you’re right—we were never serious. And I let some weird sense of competition make me act like an idiot. This year has been…” He huffs a laugh and looks away for a beat, wiping quickly at his nose. “A lot. Confusing in a lot of ways. But, Bash, I watched you today, and there was nothing confusing about it. You made endless phone calls. You paced. You yelled. You called in favors. You broke protocol, all just to get Gwen back. And that…that’s not something that I can even pretend I’ve felt before. And more than that, it’s not something I’d ever want to get in the way of.”
He turns and looks at me now. “Gwen, you’re a great person. I do know that much about you. And I wish I knew what it felt like to love somebody the way Bash clearly loves you. So I just want you both to know you have my blessing. I’m not angry. But I am…” He trails off and lifts a hand, rubbing it over his chin thoughtfully.
I can’t help but notice the pieces of hay sticking out of his expensive sweatsuit, and I wonder what he’s been up to because he would never be seen looking anything less than polished. But he doesn’t seem to care right now. He concentrates hard, silently searching for the words to express himself.
“I’m going to… I don’t know. I’m going to need some time to adjust to this. Get my head on straight. I want this to be okay, but it might take me a beat to come to terms with it all.”
We both stare at him blankly. I can’t speak for Bash, but I know that this is not what I was expecting from Tripp.
“Thank you, Tripp,” I say softly.
Bash nods his head in agreement. “Thank you, Tripp. And thank you for your help today. You really stepped up. And I know you’ve already got a dad to be proud of you, but if you wanted some random guy you barely know to be proud of you too, well, your dreams have come true.”
Tripp lets out a dry chuckle, rolling his eyes. “I’ll take that. But you really aren’t so random, you know. A second dad might be all right. Eventually.”
Bash smiles, looking a bit overwhelmed by the moment.
But, of course, Tripp has to offset that by adding, “Gwen, I’m never calling you Mom, though.”
I burst out laughing, overcome by exhaustion and the aftereffects of high adrenaline.
