Page 80 of Wild Card
“I can do this,” I mutter as I rinse off my toothbrush and turn to head downstairs.
When I get there, it’s quiet. I expected to hear chatter or laughter like I do most mornings since Clyde and Gwen came here and took over my life. It’s inexplicable how well they get along. Thick as thieves, the two of them. And it’s been nice to watch. Especially knowing what I do now.
He appreciates her and respects her expertise. Sees value in all the things about her that her own dad shamed her for.
And she’s the same with him. Clyde gets lonely, whether he wants to admit it or not. Many people can’t handle his shit, butwith Gwen, he can be the most unhinged version of himself, and she just smiles, letting him ramble on.
I have to confess—I could learn a thing or two from Gwen.
Like how to let things go. How to get over perceived wrongs that I carry with me. Missed opportunities that keep me up at night.
She said I was repressed, and she wasn’t wrong. I just don’t know how to stop.
Following the smell of freshly brewed coffee, I head into the kitchen, where I expect to be alone. Except Gwen is standing with her back to me, hair tossed up in a messy bun, a mug clasped between her hands. The golden light illuminates her.
It makes me wish we could have woken up together. Left the curtains open, so I could lie in bed and watch the morning sun dance across her upturned nose, watch its rays highlight the tops of her full cheeks.
She’d be warm and soft, and she’d smell like lavender. I’d pull her closer and stare at her for so long that when I closed my eyes, the shape of her would be burned on the back of my lids.
The possibility of it hits me hard in the chest. I’m past pretending I don’t want this, at least—someone to wake up with. To share a coffee with. To enjoy the view with.
It’s not even the sex I miss. It’s companionship. The comfort of knowing that if I’m sick, someone will be there to help. That when I get home from working a brutal wildfire, I won’t have to sit with it alone. That at the end of the day, I’ll have someone to hold for the night, letting my breathing fall in time with theirs.
It’s the simple things.
It’s building a life with someone.
I’d settle for just that.
But it can’t be justsomeone. I think deep down I want it to bethe one. I’ve been hurt too badly for it not to be.
And when I think of the one, I think of her.
Biting down on my cheek, I head toward the coffeepot and pour myself a mug. If Gwen notices my presence, she doesn’t show it. She stays facing the sprawling back deck—practically another room added to the house if you were to open the sliding doors.
“Good morning,” I finally muster, needing to break the silence. I can’t have her feeling like she can’t even speak.
Seen but not heard, she’d said when referring to her dad. That sentiment had rankled me. Now it infuriates me.
She peeks over her shoulder, those unusual eyes landing on me. The soft sage green of her sweatshirt and matching leggings does nothing but amplify the purple tinge in her irises.
Lavender. Lilacs. The color of the sun when it rises over heavy wildfire smoke.
“It is…some kind of morning.” Her smooth voice is like a balm, and the light curve of her mouth holds not a single shred of awkwardness.
My head tilts as she looks back out the window with a light giggle. Coffee in hand, I cross the expansive kitchen. I pass dark-green cabinetry, with gold hardware and stained wood countertops, as I follow the pull toward Gwen.
Her curves on full display. I itch to touch her. But that thought comes to an abrupt and screeching halt when I catch sight of what she’s looking at.
Because it’s not the lake.
It’s Clyde. On the deck. Naked.
My jaw unhinges as I come to stand next to her, chin dropping in shock. He’s seated facing away from us, legs spread and in the air, with his arms hooked behind his knees.
“What the fuck is he doing?”
Gwen looks up at me, amusement dancing on her face. “Oh, that?” she replies with a little smirk. “He’s, uh…sunning his perineum.”
