Page 50 of Wild Card
Acutely.
Tripp doesn’t have to be here for his presence to loom between us. We both know it’s there, but we don’t talk about it.
I turn my body, rising to face him. “I broke up with him at his birthday party. Right then and there. If I had known…”
Bash goes deathly still as I trail off. It’s almost as though he stops breathing.
“You left me in that bathroom and?—”
“Gwen, just don’t.”
But I don’t listen. “The way he spoke about you? The way he spoke to me? I went straight back to him and ended it on the spot.”
“Gwen—”
“I left,” I say, forging ahead. I want him to know. No, Ineedhim to know. “I wasn’t even that far behind you. I thought maybe I could catch up. I tried to find y?—”
He sits up, spinning to face me, a pained look of fury on his face. “Gwen. Stop.”
“That night something happened between us?—”
“Stop!” His harsh voice cuts through the night air, and I still, watching as he wipes a trembling palm over his mouth in frustration. “I can’t have this conversation with you. Ican’t.”
Eyes wide, I just blink back at him. He looks pained and desperate all at once. But his voice leaves no room for debate. This isn’t a conversation. It’s a demand. A plea to stop eventhinkingabout us.
My throat aches as the reality of our situation crashes against me in a sudden wave. It bowls me over. The sharp bite of cold water stealing all my warmth, drowning all my unfailing optimism.
“Don’t you get it?” he implores, propping his elbows on his knees and holding his hands out like he’s begging me to understand. “Tripp might have some glaring character flaws—I won’t argue that with you—but he’s myson. And I’ve wanted that. Maybe not like this. But it might be my only opportunity to have even a sliver of this thing. My dad was a piece of shit. Walked out without a word and never came back. I’ve always wanted to…I don’t know…fixthat wrong. Do better one day.Prove to myself that while I might have half his DNA, I’m not him. It’s why…it’s why your being here has to be for Clyde. For professional reasons and nothing more.”
His breathing is rough as he pierces me with a scorching gaze that would normally make me squirm. Tonight, it just hurts.
“Gwen. I can’t fuck it all up. I can’t cross that line, no matter how tempted I am.”
His reasoning hits me like a ton of bricks. It feels as though this entire conversation has been building toward this exact moment. Like the universe is a lawyer presenting its case in court, slowly laying a trap that I waltzed right into.
My breathing turns shallow, and I press my lips together to keep from saying anything. Because what is there to say? And I don’t trust my voice not to break if I speak. I hug my arms around my torso, feeling like I need to cover up, even though I’m fully clothed.
He shifts forward, drawn toward me, and I swear he’s about to stand. But his motion stops abruptly, his fingers gripping the armrests of his chair as though holding himself back.
He makes no other move and I’m more disappointed than I have any right to be. My eyes sting as I push to stand. The weight of having to be mature about this whole thing feels impossibly heavy, but I get to my feet all the same.
Then I offer Bash a sad smile and a whispered, “I’m sorry,” as I turn and head back to my room.
And he doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t offer me a single other word.
A familiar feeling stirs inside me. The one where I’m in the way or not good enough—a burden. I know it’s not true. I know that’s not what he meant.
But I feel the sting of it all the same.
I wash my face, telling myself the wetness on my cheeks is just tap water, then crawl into the pillowy, soft bed with a heavy heart and a busy mind. Our confrontation keeps meawake for hours. I think myself in dizzying circles. Turning every possibility between us over in my mind again and again.
The entire mess feels monumentally unfair. Because I like Bash.
Ireallylike Bash.
Unfortunately for me, I like Bash enough to keep my distance.
It shouldn’t be too hard. I was never planning to stay anyway.
