Wilder

by Nina Levine

  Her eyes are as wild as my fucking heartbeat.

  Where the hell is all the air in this room?

  I need oxygen, goddamn it.

  Phoebe grips my hand, still with the wild eyes. “They only ever wanted to touch you, Scarlett, because you were the pretty one. They left me alone. Because of you. You saved me, and for that, you hated me. And I don’t blame you. Not one little bit. But I don’t want you to hate me anymore. I can’t change the past, but I will fight for our future.”

  I stare at her through the tears streaming down my face.

  Sometimes we forget shit.

  And sometimes we don’t know what we have.

  I’d shoved this memory so far down into the depths of my soul that I’d forgotten it.

  She’s right.

  She’s fucking righter than right.

  That was when I started hating my sister.

  She keeps hold of my hand. “I’ve done a lot of things I should not have done, and I regret every single one of them, but the thing I regret the most is how I treated you. How I used you, and lied to you, and stole from you, all so I could keep buying drugs. I told myself at the time that I did it because of the drugs, but that’s not true. If it were, I would have done those things to Bailey too, and anyone else I was close to. The deep-down truth is I did those things to you because I hated you for hating me. It’s the same reason I did what I did to Mum. I hated her for hating me. It was my hurt all along that made me hurt you, and I am so sorry for that.”

  Everything is spinning for me right now.

  The room.

  The world.

  The real goddamn truths of life.

  My ability to keep hating my sister.

  The shitty cycles of shitty families that just keep on fucking repeating themselves.

  When does it all end?

  How does it all end?

  You need to let it hurt. Stop doing your damnedest to run from all your feelings and just let them fuckin’ bleed.

  I squeeze her hand. “We need to stop the cycle. We need to fucking fight hard to do that.”

  Her first tear falls, and she nods. “It’s time to save each other and to save Bailey.”

  It’s time to wipe the slate clean.

  It’s time to build a fucking refrigerator door of memories instead of a wall of hurts.

  47

  Scarlett

  I drive home without stopping. I can’t bring myself to. Not when the need to get back to Wilder feels more urgent and desperate than any need I’ve felt before.

  I arrive just before midnight Friday night and let myself into his house with the key he gave me just over a week ago. It’s been five days since I’ve seen him, and I never want to go five days without seeing him ever again in our lifetime. Like, he’s gonna have to get on board with this, because it’s a non-negotiable for me in this relationship.

  He’s not home, exactly how I expected because I know he’s at work tonight. He should be home soon, so I go into his kitchen and put on the diffuser I bought him the other week, using the new blend of oils I picked up in Sydney after I left Phoebe’s place.

  I spent a few hours with her and Bailey today. They were awkward and odd and itchy hours, but they were a start. I expect a lot of the hours we spend together going forward will be exactly the same. New beginnings are awkward. There’s no way around that. And holy hell, look at me all wise and shit. I mean, will the real Scarlett please stand up, because I’m wondering where she is at this point.

  I need a nap.

  Or ten.

  But what I need first is my man to come home and put his arms around me.

  It’s a good thing he has all those reserves of patience. He needed them this week. And boy did he access them.

  I didn’t reply to a text of his until today and I didn’t answer a call or return one. I wouldn’t blame him if he told me he was done. Even I know I’m hard work. But I know he isn’t going to tell me that because he’s a better person than me and he replied to my text instantly. And he told me to take my time. There’s honestly not a better human alive than Wilder.

  I fill his kettle and switch it on.

  I spoon some hot chocolate into a mug for him and grab my favourite mug of his for my tea. I’m locating a teabag in his pantry when I hear him come in. There’s not a better sound in the world right now than the sound of his boots thudding softly on his tiles on his way to me.

  “That a new blend?” he asks from behind me, referring to the oils I’m diffusing.

  And there goes my personal squad of butterflies.

  I turn and rest my eyes on the face I have come to love more than any other face in the whole entire world.

  “Yes.” My heart beats so loudly that I’m sure he must be able to hear it from where he’s standing at the entry to the kitchen.

  He rests against the doorjamb, all laidback country sexy. Crossing his arms, he says, “What are we working on tonight?” Jesus, I literally swoon over the fact he understands how my oil blends work. Don’t even slap me now. I never wanna stop swooning.

  “Forgiveness.”

  “Interesting.” At my questioning look, he elaborates, “Not what I was expecting.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  He glances at the two mugs sitting on his kitchen counter. “Not what I’m looking at, that’s for damn sure.”

  The kettle boils, and I make our drinks while he watches me. I slide his mug across the counter and look at him. “Drink up. We’ve got a house to save from burning down.”

  He pushes off from the doorjamb and comes to me, eyes firmly on mine. When he reaches me, he says, “I won’t allow this to happen again, Scarlett.”

  My heart beats wildly. Louder than before. “I won’t either.”

  Those beautiful greens of his blaze with fierce determination. “I can handle your prickles. I can handle your thoughts and feelings getting all fucked up and you taking that out on me. I can handle you needing me to step up and fight for us at times. But I can never handle you leaving again.” His hand slides around my waist to pull me to him. “In future, we stay up all fuckin’ night, week, month, year, until we fight our way through whatever it is we’re dealing with. We don’t burn the fuckin’ house down. We build it strong.”

  I do not deserve this man, but holy hell, I am going to do everything I can to keep him.

  I grasp his shirt, nodding, and whisper in agreement, “We build it strong.”

  His lips crash down onto mine, and he shows me what five days without me does to him. I show him the exact same thing. We were not made to go five days without each other.

  When Wilder finally comes up for air, he growls, “You’re mine now.”

  My eyes search his. “You knew I’d come back, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, Cherry Bomb, I knew, but that didn’t make any of this easier. A man can’t function when his house is on fuckin’ fire, and the one thing he needs to put that fire out is nowhere to be seen.”

  “Maybe you should reconsider whether my kind of firecracker is the kind you want in your life because I see a lot of fires ahead.”

  His arm tightens around me. “I don’t need to reconsider any-fuckin’-thing. Bring those fires the fuck on, Scarlett. I’ll walk through every single one of them.”

  As Wilder makes his declaration, my soul takes a breath and gives up the fight of her life, the fight against letting another heart take hold of mine. The fight against taking a chance on someone. The fight against letting love in.

  I smile, and I feel it reach every corner of my body. “I love you, Wilder.”

  “There she is,” he says as he takes hold of my face with both hands.

  “Who?” I ask, that heart of mine picking up speed again.

  “The woman I love.” He kisses me again, taking his time with my lips like they’re the most precious thing in the world to him. When he’s done, I know he’s not really. I know we’re just getting started for the night. But he drags his lips from mine
, and while keeping hold of my face, he says, “You finally took all your armour off, Scar, and you’re more fuckin’ beautiful than I thought.”

  48

  Wilder

  “When I told you that dresses were made for your curves, I didn’t fuckin’ mean you should find the shortest fuckin’ dress known to mankind and wear it here,” I say when Scarlett meets me in the clubhouse bar.

  We’re celebrating Colt’s birthday tonight, and since it’s a Friday, Scarlett’s spent the afternoon with her squad getting glammed the fuck up, which means she’s all fuckin’ hair, sexy make-up, and this black scrap of material that she thinks is a fuckin’ dress. My dick’s going crazy, and she’s only been in the room for a minute.

  Christ.

  She lays a sexy smile on me and moves in close, her hands coming to my hips, her mouth coming to mine. After she kisses me, she says, “Good news, country boy, I bought two dresses today. The other one’s even shorter, so you need to prepare yourself for that.”

  Fucking hell.

  She’s been back two weeks since taking off for Sydney, and she’s spent those weeks killing me. At the rate we’re going, I’ll be dead within another week.

  I rest my hands on her ass. “Paul called. Dad arrived this afternoon. He wants to leave at five tomorrow morning, so you’re on your own for the interview at Salty Girl.” I was supposed to be doing the interview with her at eight tomorrow. Since the food festival, business at Salty Girl has more than tripled, and we’ve had a few features done on us. However, Dad’s come to town to go camping with Paul and me this weekend and got it in his head about leaving really fucking early instead of after I’m done with the interview.

  “I’ll let you off the hook, but just this time. God knows, if Gia and I are left alone too often, shit could go down.”

  I chuckle. “Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth.”

  “Hey, you better be on my side there.”

  “I’m not taking sides. You two can battle your shit out on your own.”

  Her grip on me tightens. “She needs to stop flirting with you or else we really are gonna be battling shit out.”

  I grin. “She’s not flirting with me. She’s Italian and affectionate.”

  She rolls her eyes. “How are men so fucking oblivious to shit? Seriously.”

  “Okay, tell me this: Did you think she was flirting with me before you started sleeping with me?”

  “No. This is just new.”

  “Bullshit. She doesn’t treat me any fuckin’ different to before. You’re just being territorial when there’s nothing to be territorial about.”

  “You’re full of shit.”

  I shake my head and kiss her before smacking her ass. “You want a drink?”

  “I would love a drink.” She turns serious, not letting me go, and says, “I love that your dad has come to see you boys. He’s making a real effort.”

  “Yeah. I haven’t seen Paul this happy for a while.”

  I go and get our drinks and when I come back to her, she’s busy tapping out a text.

  “Hey,” she says, glancing up at me. “Gia got through the questions for the interview tomorrow, and she wants to know how you guys came up with the name Salty Girl for the restaurant?”

  Nash laughs as he joins us. “That’s a funny fuckin’ story,” he says to her before eyeing me. “You wanna tell it or you want me to tell it?” Without waiting for my reply, he says, “Nah, let me tell it.” Then giving Scarlett all his attention, he shares the story. “Wilder and I were with Scott trying to come up with names for the restaurants. We already had Trilogy, although I can’t remember how we came up with that one. We then decided we’d each have to come up with a name for the other three. I chose Dirty Pleasures. Scott chose Eternity, and when he told us it was named for Harlow, Wilder said the only woman in his life at that point was you and that your salty ways were driving him fuckin’ crazy, so he chose Salty Girl.”

  Scarlett stares at me. “Holy shit, you named a restaurant after me.”

  Nash leaves us, looking annoyed that she loves the fact I named the restaurant after her when it’s clear he was hoping to fucking stir her up. There’s still no love lost between these two.

  I move into her. “Is this one of those things like sharing ice cream secrets with you? Are we talking extra miles tonight?”

  Before she can answer me, Scott enters the bar and shuts shit down real fucking fast when he says, “Party’s over. Shit’s come up, and I need everyone on fuckin’ deck.”

  By the look on his face, whatever the shit is that’s come up, it’s fucking serious.

  He exits the bar, and I look at Scarlett. Her hands come to my chest and she says, “Let me know what’s happening when you get a chance. Should I let Paul know this might change your plans for tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.” My mind is already focussed on the club, wondering what the hell has happened. I quickly brush my lips over hers and say, “I’ll text you.”

  With that, I stride out of the bar and follow Scott into the room where we hold church.

  Every muscle in his body is stretched tight and every line on his face sits deeper than usual as he glances around the room. “Lily King is missing and we’re dropping every-fuckin’-thing to help find her.”

  Epilogue

  Scarlett

  “Savannah Miller, you will be the death of me,” I say as my daughter runs into the kitchen with mud all over her party dress. The party dress I just dressed her in ten minutes ago. “Where’s your father?”

  She points outside at the backyard. “Daddy said I could play.”

  I have no doubt her father did.

  I also have no doubt he didn’t think that through before he agreed to it.

  Savannah has her daddy wrapped around her little finger.

  “Baby, go into the bathroom. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Okay, Mummy,” she says before doing as she’s told.

  “Looks like Justin is shit out of luck for sandwiches tonight,” Paul says with a knowing look.

  His mother, who is sitting next to him on a stool at my kitchen counter, frowns. “We’re having sandwiches for dinner tonight?”

  I shake my head at Paul as he laughs. Then, to Susan, I say, “Paul is mistaken. We’re having a barbeque. Douglas and Wilder are in charge.”

  He is right, though, about the sandwiches. At the rate my husband is going, there will be no sandwiches anytime soon. I mean, the man ate his way through three of the party bags for Savannah’s birthday party today. I didn’t have any spare, so that meant I had to make a last-minute run to the supermarket this morning to get more supplies. Then, he mixed colours with whites in the laundry this morning, which meant Savannah’s white dress I’d chosen for her to wear for tomorrow’s special lunch with her aunt turned pink. And then, he told our son, Levi, that snakes can be found in the city. I mean, it’s true, but Jesus, a three-year-old doesn’t need to know that shit. Levi has spent most of today hiding in his room because he’s worried about snakes in the garden.

  I already need a nap and it’s not even lunchtime.

  “I’ll go and clean Savannah up if you want,” Susan says.

  “Thank you. That would be great.” My mother-in-law is the fucking bomb. Like, if a petition is ever started to create a day to celebrate mothers-in-law, let me at it.

  “Scarlett,” Phoebe calls from the lounge room. “You got a minute?”

  I hit Paul with a look. “If I come back in here and any of these cupcakes are missing, there will be blood spilt, and it will all be yours.”

  “Jesus, woman,” he says. “Calm your shit. Not every Miller boy is about eating all the party food and making kids cry.”

  “Lucky.”

  I head into the lounge room and find Phoebe pointing the remote at the TV like she hates it and wants to murder it slowly and violently. I know exactly how she feels. I hate that fucking remote too. “Why can’t I get this to bloody work?”

  “Ah, that’s becau
se a man designed both that TV and that remote. I’m fucking sure of it. I can never get it to work properly either.”

  “I’m ready to throw it at the TV.”

  “Hold off on that. Wilder will be inside soon. Throw it at him. This TV was his choice.”

  She laughs. “Oh, by the way, Bailey called. He’s gonna be late. Something about his new girlfriend finishing work late or something. I think he wants to bring her to the party so he can introduce us.”

  “Do you know how he went with his boss yesterday?” Bailey’s working as an electrician these days and asked for some time off at the end of next month because Wilder decided a huge family holiday at the Sunshine Coast was a good idea. I mean, it is a good idea, but trying to co-ordinate all our people is proving to be a headache. One I may need to call the unicorns in on to help herd everyone in the right damn direction.

  “His boss said yes. You should prepare yourself for Bailey to ask if his girlfriend can come too.”

  I shrug. “At this point, I don’t care who the hangers on are, so long as all family members are there.” I smile. “And to be honest, I’m just glad Bailey wants to come. It’s taken us some hard work, but we finally got here.”

  She returns my smile. “Yeah, we did,” she says softly.

  It’s been five years since that day she and I sat in her home and decided it was time to break our family cycle. Those five years have been a hard slog of lots of steps back and forward. Honestly, I couldn’t have done any of it without Wilder by my side. I make a mental note to remember that when I’m deciding whether sandwiches are on the menu tonight.

  The back door slides open and Wilder calls, “Scar. You got a minute?”

  For that man, I have all the minutes.

  Even when he eats things he shouldn’t, and washes clothes together he shouldn’t, and tells our son things he shouldn’t. And yes, I’m aware I sound like a grown woman with my shit together in very mum ways. I accept. I’m a mum, and I’m fucking proud of my mum ways.