Wilder

by Nina Levine

  “How?”

  I force out another long breath like I think pushing the oxygen from my body might force the ugly emotions from me too. “Mum was so out of it and unwell that Phoebe took advantage and got her to sign the paperwork while telling her it was for something else. Mum inherited that house from her mother. It was the only thing in life she actively cared for, so it drove her over the edge when Phoebe took great delight in telling her she’d sold it. That was the day she left rehab and made sure once and for all to get enough drugs in her to end her misery.”

  “Phoebe did it to hurt your mother?”

  “You never show judgement, do you?” I can’t hear a trace of it in his voice.

  “I do. Sometimes.”

  “You never do with me.”

  “Not true. I judge the fuck out of your clothes.”

  I smile. “Right. Yes, you do.” I pause, not wanting this moment with him to end. But all good things end in my experience, and this moment is no different. “Yes, Phoebe did it to hurt Mum. She also did it so she’d have cash to fund her habit.”

  “She kept the money?”

  I nod.

  “Fuck, Scar.” His voice trails off as he processes that. He’ll be a while. It’s not something easily processed. I should know; I still haven’t fucking processed it. I also haven’t processed the fucked-up contradiction I feel over hating Phoebe for doing that to Mum. I hated our mother and shouldn’t fucking care that she lost the one thing that meant something to her. I also hate that I couldn’t save her from the drugs, that I wasn’t there that night. It’s a fucking mindfuck is what it is.

  “So yeah, that’s the story with my mum.”

  He reaches across and takes hold of my hand as he watches me in silence again. He knows this is only the very beginning of the story he’ll slowly learn about my mother. He also knows not to push me for it yet. I know all this by not only the look in his eyes, but simply because he’s the man he is.

  We sit like this for a while before he shifts his hand to the steering wheel. “What are you hungry for?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Okay, but I am, so what do you think I should eat?”

  I angle my body towards his and reach across to cup his face so I can pull his lips to mine. After I kiss him, I say, “You’re a smart man, Justin Miller. You should eat one of my favourite burgers.”

  He starts the truck. “Fuck, I hate pickles.”

  I laugh. “It’s a good thing you’re not actually planning on eating it then, isn’t it?”

  “I was planning on eating half of it.”

  “Have you seen those muscles on your body? Half a burger isn’t gonna cut it.”

  “You’ve got a point. I’ll buy two burgers.”

  My smile is way too big for my face. I mean, my face is stretching all over the place without a clue as to what the fuck is going on right now.

  I’m gonna have to send a memo out to all my body parts.

  Warning: Justin Miller is in the damn house. He thinks he owns the place and I suspect he might be onto something.

  35

  Scarlett

  I skip yoga Wednesday morning. Instead, I snuggle up to Wilder and beg him to show me some new moves. Since he’s a man who loves morning sex, it doesn’t take much convincing. I decide that perhaps it would be prudent of me to weigh up the benefits of ditching yoga permanently in favour of a little time in Wilder World. I also decide that if I’m going to continue using words such as prudent, I should also weigh up the benefits of finding a therapist I can put on speed dial. I mean, prudent? What in the actual fuck?

  Hello Wednesday.

  Fucking hump day.

  And still no word from Bailey.

  I might be going crazy with worry over him, but after two days of this, my anger has reared its ugly head and I’m starting to get pissed off. Like, “stomp around my flat and pick a fight with anyone who comes near me” kind of pissed off. It’s a good thing Wilder’s the man he is. A lesser man would either throw my shit all the way back at me or just up and leave.

  “Get your ass dressed. We’re going to work,” he finally says after copping an earful about how much I hate Libra tampons and that he made me buy them. My period is due, and I remembered on the way home last night that I was all out of tampons, so I asked him to stop at a service station. Libra was the only brand they stocked. I grumbled and bitched about it until he told me to “suck it up and either buy them or don’t, but stop fucking complaining”. I bought them, because no girl needs to be caught without a fucking tampon when she needs one, but I wasn’t happy about it. I’m clearly not ready to let that go yet.

  I glare at him and his orders. “It’s not even eight. We’re not going to work yet.”

  “We are.”

  My brows arrow at the way he slaps that directive down. “Well, you might be, but I’m not.”

  “You fuckin’ are, so do us both a favour and go find some clothes to wear.”

  “I’m not in the mood for your bossiness today, just FYI.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. You stay here, you’re just gonna get angrier and angrier, Scar. At least at work you’ll find something to do to take your mind off shit.”

  He’s right, but I am nowhere near ready to admit that. “I can find things to do here.”

  “Like bitching about tampons?”

  I make wide eyes at him. “Yes, if I want to!”

  “Fuck,” he mutters, coming my way. Scooping his arm around my waist, he lifts me against his body and walks us into my bedroom while I attempt to fight him off. It’s no use. I’m pretty sure he’s actually Hercules. I mean, don’t quote me on it, but the man just carries on walking like he’s holding a fucking flower in his hand rather than a grown woman.

  When he puts me down, he goes to my wardrobe and yanks out the first thing he finds: jeans and a white T-shirt. Handing them to me, he says, “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes. If you need me to choose your shoes, I can do that. If you need me to brush your hair, I can do that too. I’m all the fuck out for make-up, though, so you’re on your own there. Not that you fuckin’ need it.” He jerks his chin at me. “Fifteen minutes, Cherry Bomb. If you’re not in my truck by then, I’ll carry you out myself.”

  With that, he exits the room leaving me to stare after him.

  No man has ever taken charge of me like this.

  I kinda like it.

  But a white T-shirt? He needs to pay closer attention. I might have a white shirt in my closet, but I never wear it, and I never wear white. I’m not sure why he thinks I’d wear it today.

  Also, I haven’t forgotten that I bought Libra fucking tampons because he encouraged me to.

  Hump day can fuck off with itself.

  I have a super quick shower, because unrealistic fifteen-minute timeframes, and dress. I brush my own hair and throw on some make-up. I also find my own shoes even though I’m more than tempted to make Wilder select them just to annoy him.

  I’m on my way out of my bedroom when my sister calls.

  “Phoebe,” I answer, practically fumbling with the phone in my hurry to speak with her.

  “Hi, Scarlett,” she says, her voice throwing me off. We haven’t spoken in the two years since Mum died, and I’ve done my best to wipe her from my memory and my life in that time. She doesn’t feel familiar anymore.

  “Have you heard from Bailey?” My heart races faster than it ever has. My desperation to hear her say yes all but bleeds from me.

  Please say yes.

  Please say yes.

  Please say yes.

  “Yes.”

  I grip my phone harder. “When?”

  “I just got off the phone from him.”

  “Fuck, Phoebe, just tell me everything you know. Don’t draw this out. Is he okay? Where is he?” And why the fuck is he calling you rather than me?

  “He’s okay.”

  When she stops speaking abruptly and turns quiet, I demand, “And?”

  “Shit
,” she stumbles over herself before continuing. “You’re not going to like this, so I’m trying to figure out how to tell you in the best way.” Another pause in which I draw on every ounce of patience I possess, which isn’t fucking much. “He’s asked if he can come and stay with me for a while.”

  My brain explodes.

  Like, how it’s not in a million pieces splattered across the four walls of my bedroom is beyond me.

  “You’re fucking kidding, right?”

  She sighs. “I told you that you wouldn’t like it.”

  “I don’t just not like it. I fucking hate the idea, Phoebe. Staying with you will kill him. How can you not see that? Or do you just not care?”

  “I’m clean, Scarlett,” she says softly. “I’ve been clean for a year now.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s your choice to believe what you want, but it’s the truth. It’s why I was coming to see you this weekend, to show you.”

  I bark out a disbelieving laugh. “What were you gonna show me? I mean, what do you think I could possibly see to help me buy into your lies? Don’t even bother answering that because there’s nothing you could show me that would ever convince me you’re clean. And even if you are, I don’t care. It’s too fucking late for that now.”

  The anger surging through my veins threatens to blow them apart.

  It’s all I can feel.

  The relentless pressure of it expands inside me.

  I can’t even see straight.

  Everything’s a blur as I think about my sister, and my brother, and my mother, and the fucked-up state of our family.

  The lies.

  The hate.

  The ruin and wreckage that we are.

  “It’s never too late, but that’s for another day. I just wanted to let you know that Bailey’s okay and that I’m booking him a flight for this afternoon. I’ll keep you updated when he arrives.”

  This can’t actually be happening.

  Bailey will die if he stays with her.

  He will be dead like our mother.

  In a coffin.

  In the ground.

  And I will never see him again.

  I suck air in, my chest rising and falling fast as I fight for the oxygen.

  “Where is he now?” When she doesn’t answer me, I scream, “Where is he, Phoebe?”

  “He doesn’t want to see you, Scarlett,” she says like she’s trying to let me down gently. Like she’s my fucking mother and is fucking trying to look out for me.

  Wilder comes into the bedroom as I hurl my phone at the wall. The hole I create only angers me more because now I’ll have to get that fucking fixed. “Fuck!” I yell. “Fucking fuck fuck fuck!”

  Without an ounce of hesitation, Wilder comes to me, snakes his arm around my waist, and pulls me against his body. His strong arms go around me, and he hugs the absolute shit out of me. Like he’s trying to hold me together. Like he’s trying to keep me from shattering completely.

  In my mind, I’m fighting the world.

  My sister.

  My brother’s drug addiction.

  My mother.

  The shit she put us through as kids.

  The in-fucking-justice of it all.

  But while that’s going on in my head, my body isn’t fighting Wilder.

  I surrender.

  I settle in his arms.

  I let him take it all from me.

  I let him carry my burden.

  I let him in.

  “You wanna talk about it?” he finally asks, loosening his hold on me just a little.

  He knows me so well, and yet he doesn’t know me at all. He doesn’t know the darkest parts of me I don’t want anyone to know.

  I look up at him. “Bailey’s flying to Sydney this afternoon to go stay with Phoebe. And he doesn’t want me to know where he is so I can’t even go to him to try and talk some sense into him.”

  I bury my face back in his chest and he tightens his hold on me again.

  He doesn’t ask me anything else.

  Somehow, he knows exactly what I need, and he gives it to me.

  I don’t cry.

  Not today.

  I’ve cried for two days.

  I’m all out of tears.

  But my heart hurts more than it’s ever hurt.

  Somehow, Wilder senses this too.

  I know that because he holds me for as long as I stay in his arms, which is a long fucking time, and then when I move out of his hold, he says, “She’s opened a vein, Scar, but you aren’t alone here. I won’t let you bleed out.”

  I believe him.

  Easily.

  Without question.

  Completely.

  It’s a long day. Not as long as the day Bailey checked himself out of hospital, but it’s long and hard and rough. And I’m ready for it to be over.

  “Give me your feet,” Wilder says when he joins me on my couch.

  After my call with Phoebe this morning, he took me to work where he loaded me up with jobs to keep me busy. During the day, he managed to find some time to come and fix the hole I put in my wall, all without telling me he was doing that. When I got home and discovered it, I cried my first tears for the day. Thank fuck he wasn’t here with me. A girl doesn’t need her man seeing her cry every damn day of the week. He came over after dinner, at which point, I forced him to remove all our clothes so I could show him what I thought of the fact he fixed my wall. I think it’s safe to say that if I ever put another hole in a wall, it’ll be fixed pretty fucking fast.

  I give him my feet and close my eyes when he works his fingers like magic on said feet. “Did your dad teach you how to look after a woman?”

  I hear his smile when he says, “Yeah. He can be a stubborn asshole sometimes, but he knows how to treat a woman.”

  I crack my eyes open. “Right, so he taught you all he knows then.”

  He grins. “Careful, or you might just lose these hands for the night.”

  “Seriously? You think that threat will work on me? I know how much you like to get those hands on me.”

  He massages my feet in silence for a few minutes before saying, “I was thinking about the weekend today.”

  “About seeing your dad?”

  “Yeah, but also about you.”

  I frown. “What about me?”

  “I don’t think you should be alone this weekend.”

  “Why not?”

  He stops massaging my feet. “It’s been a hard week for you.”

  “I’m a big girl, Wilder. I can handle hard weeks. And I can be alone on a weekend. That’s not something new to me.”

  “I know it’s not, but you don’t have to be alone.”

  “Wait, have you organised for Harlow or the squad to come hang out with me? Because if you have, you need to fix that really fucking fast.”

  “No, I haven’t, but I think you should come to Mt Isa with me and Paul.”

  I stare at him like he’s lost his damn mind. “You’re not being serious?”

  “I’m being deadly fuckin’ serious.”

  My cats steal my tongue. The cats I never knew I wanted and now definitely don’t want. Nothing against cats, but I think I might just want a man now.

  I can’t decide if the vibrations in my chest are happening because I like the idea of going to Mt Isa with him or because I like that he cares about me enough to suggest it.

  “Wouldn’t it be weird for you if I went? I mean, as far as your parents would be concerned, it’d be like… I don’t know… like you bringing a girl home, right?” Jesus, take the wheel. This conversation is now awkward and itchy, and I think I just wanna go back to him massaging my feet.

  “It wouldn’t be weird for me at all, Scar. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t want you there.” When I don’t respond straight away, because cats and tongue and all, he says, “Put it this way, it’s either Mt Isa or a squad booking I’ll take care of. You choose.”

  Vibrations.

&
nbsp; Chest.

  Where the hell is my tongue?

  “Fine,” I finally blurt. “I’ll come to Mt Isa. Jesus. This bossiness is way extra today between the getting me dressed in fifteen minutes, ordering me to work, and now this. We might need to have words if you keep this up.”

  His lips twitch with his signature amusement as he reaches to pull me onto his lap. With his hands on my ass, he says, “I’m pretty fuckin’ sure we’ll always be having words.” He kisses me. “I’ll get Paul to book your flight. We leave just after lunch on Friday.”

  I commence some kind of weird panic I’ve never experienced in my life.

  I’m going to meet a guy’s parents.

  Holy hell, what have I gotten myself into?

  Maybe cats would have been the safer option after all.

  36

  Wilder

  “She’s lovely, Justin,” Mum says as we watch Scarlett roll her eyes at something Paul says. “How long have you two been dating?”

  We arrived in Mt Isa about forty minutes ago at which point Mum picked us up from the airport. Dad’s out with his mates getting a start on his birthday weekend, so it’s just the four of us at home until he returns later this afternoon. Scarlett was nervous on the flight here, something I attributed to flying. However, since she met Mum, I realise her nerves had nothing to do with the plane and everything to do with meeting my parents. This revelation both shocked the shit out of me and made me smile. Scarlett is made of fire and steel, and yet here she is all vulnerable and shit. I fucking like that meeting my parents means something to her. It sure as fuck means something to me.

  “Not long. Don’t make her being here into a big deal,” I say. This’ll be a waste of my breath if Mum takes to Scarlett the way I think she will, but a man can try.

  Mum nods. “I won’t.” Drawing her attention from Scarlett and Paul, she looks at me. “We’re going to The Buffs for dinner tonight. Your father thinks it’s just us, but everyone will be there. We need to be there at six thirty.” By everyone, she means all their local friends as well as the friends who’ve come to town for Dad’s party tomorrow night. And when she says we need to be there at six thirty, she means that I need to ensure Paul doesn’t fuck around and make us late.