WYLDER

by Kristina Weaver

  Through all of it I stayed rock-steady, even when I was running errands and making less than nothing. I gave up my dreams, to go into business with Pop, and lived eight years of my life helping plan and execute a takedown of most major crime families in the state. And even some in other parts of the country.

  So, yeah, I may have some money squared away now, and yeah, I don’t want for anything, but the truth is that I have spent years just scraping through, and I fucking resent anyone looking at me and assuming my life’s been a breeze.

  “I wasn’t always rich, Teeny, so you can wipe that sneer off your fucking face. I was dirt poor six years ago and only solvent the last three, because my family lost everything eight years ago. I went from everything to nothing in a blink. No home, food that you eat because you have to, and clothes that come from thrift stores because it beats the rags you’ve been wearing for two years. You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” I growl, pushing up off the lounger with a curse.

  Teeny stills, tensing at my tone and the aggressive—unconsciously aggressive—move.

  “I…I’m sorry. I-I-I didn’t mean to imply…I’m sorry,” she says quickly, grabbing Elliot and taking a defensive stance while her eyes dart around nervously looking for an exit.

  The look shames me deeply, and I fall back onto the lounger with a curse, holding my hands out in front of me to show her I mean no harm. Christ! What the hell is wrong with me?

  I mean her no harm, but I just jumped down the woman’s throat as if I had every intention of lunging for her, and for what? Because she called me on a valid point? I sometimes forget that not everyone is lucky enough to crawl out of poverty, and from the looks of the almost non-existent progress she’s made of her rundown little house, I’d say she’s not doing great.

  Good going, Wylder. Go ahead and make the woman feel like shit about not being able to afford something most can’t and then jump down her throat when she calls you on it.

  “I won’t hurt you! I swear I mean you no harm. Christ, I’m sorry if I scared you,” I say sincerely, feeling like a real heel when she swallows with a gulp and her eyes go wet with unshed tears.

  Stupid bastard!

  “I, uh, I…we’ll just go. Yeah, we should, um, I should go feed Elliot,” she stammers, giving me a wide birth and practically running away before I can say another word.

  I feel like an asshole when her speed walk turns into a jog and moments later she flat-out runs for her back door and dives in, probably locking it for good measure.

  “Nice. Real nice, fuck-face. Why didn’t you just yell some more and threaten to kill her?” I snarl to myself, sighing with regret when I see her peek through a window before slamming the curtains shut quickly.

  Yeah. Good going.

  I don’t spend more than five more minutes outside by the pool, my guilt making me aware of the fact that hanging around out here where Teeny can see me is probably not going to make her feel any better.

  With another snarl at myself, I jog back into the house for a shower and jump into sweatpants and a muscle shirt, too restless to relax after the complete idiot I just made of myself.

  Slamming through the house is counterproductive, and I know that, but it’s exactly what I do as I grab my phone and ear plugs and leave, setting out at a jog without warming up because I need to get the hell away from here and do something more than sit and brood about how rude and threatening I just was to a woman half my size.

  I run three miles, listening to Ozzy screaming in my ears, and by the time I turn back to jog another three, I’m covered in sweat and too tired to think about anything but how to fix something like this.

  I’m usually really easygoing, the joker, the laugher, the non-serious guy in the family, but for the last while, I feel as if I could explode for any reason. Nothing makes me feel good anymore, nothing, but it doesn’t escape me that for the nanosecond I was swimming and trying to coax Teeny out of her shell, I felt nothing but amusement and a peace that hasn’t touched me in a long time.

  Yeah. Definitely gonna fix the mess I made of a friendship that could be great, and you know—I smile when my man-brain kicks in—Teeny is hot. She’s tiny and skittish, but under all that restraint and nervousness I sense from her is an adorable woman I find very attractive.

  Not that I want anything to happen. Nooooo. She lives next door, and I don’t do relationships of any kind unless they come with one night of sex and a wave in the morning when the woman leaves.

  But yeah, she’s cute, and I definitely would like to get to know her.

  Maybe convince her to sell me her house at some point because, from the looks of things, she is not flush with cash, and I would give her a great price for her land.

  Feeling a whole lot better because I have a solid plan in mind, I jog back slowly, letting my muscles relax some, and almost smile when I jog past her house to see her peeking out the front window.

  My wave sees her dropping the curtain and scuttling back fast, but it makes me grin to know that she’s still in there and hasn’t run for her life. Yeah, later, I think as I lock the front door and walk upstairs for a shower. I’ll go by later and cajole her into accepting my apology.

  Teeny

  Natasha arrives back a little after six thirty to get Elliot, who I have fed, bathed, and read to six times already. She’s all smiles about her aunt’s progress, and we spend a few minutes having coffee while she fills me in and asks for help tomorrow filling a cookie order she completely forgot about.

  Natasha’s high school sweetheart, Brett, died a year and a half ago after his second deployment and left her a widow as well as a single mom with little to no skills to support herself and her son.

  I’ve known her for a while because the house she lives in used to belong to her aunt, the one in the hospital, and she’s lived there three years now, a year ahead of the time I’ve been here.

  I like her. She’s sweet and smart and all alone save for her aunt Kimmy who was in a nursing home before she fell and broke her hip and had to be hospitalized.

  That would have been fine. Well, I don’t mean fine since the poor dear got hurt. I just mean…it was fixable, but poor Kimmy’s had two chest infections since she recovered from surgery, and now she’s fighting off bronchitis that isn’t playing games with her taxed immune system.

  I like helping Nat, like being with Elliot even when I feel grumpy and my life seems like a never-ending series of metaphorical beat-downs and struggle.

  That’s just how I am. Maybe that’s why Ally finds it so easy to pull one over on me every other week.

  “You look stressed, Teeny. You okay, sugar?” Nat asks when I spend long moments staring at my coffee, wondering if I can live off the stuff for a week without getting putrid stomach.

  I shake my head and sigh with a groan, leaning back—super thankful that Elliot has conked out because I need someone to talk to.

  “Ally.”

  The one word makes Nat’s eyes narrow, and I feel my lip twitch before the budding smile slips, and I groan again, this time scrubbing at my hair with an annoyed huff.

  Nat knows Ally. In fact, Nat and Ally despise each other because Nat told Ally she’s a leech with less than no morals or consideration for anyone but herself.

  I agree some days when I’m being less than charitable or feeling like extra-special crap because no matter how hard I try not to see it—easier considering what a chump I am—I know Nat’s right.

  When she fell pregnant three years ago, just after Gran passed away, I knew it wasn’t a good idea. Ally isn’t bad. She’s just never been a particularly responsible person, and thinking of her raising a child was not something I could do without sleepless nights.

  The first three months of Tammy’s life were spent with them living with me while I did night feeds and diaper changes while she slept until eight in the morning.

  I was working even then, so I’d drag my ass to work because I knew formula doesn’t buy itself, and after that, d
rag home to get an hour or two of sleep before the night round started all over again.

  It was not great, and yeah, as much as I love Tam, I resented Ally for leaving me to deal with it all while she hung out with her friends and gambled away money I was hiding in the pantry.

  It all exploded when I found out and told Ally she had to get a job. She did, her anger so great it didn’t stop at her working to support herself and Tam but also so she could put a roof over their heads.

  I didn’t want that, was happy to have them here with me, but Ally wouldn’t hear me out, and a month after Tam turned six months old, she moved out into a shithole hovel in Xavier’s building.

  I babysit sometimes, when Ally’s neighbor isn’t home, and I get to spend time with a kid I basically raised for the first six months of her life. And Ally lets me hang around because she knows without me she’s got no one to give her money when she’s broke.

  “God, I hate her,” Nat snarls, shaking her head when I go to defend her out of habit. “No, Teeny. I know she’s your kid sister and you love her, but she’s the pits. She only lets you see Tam when she needs free babysitting or when she’s trying to hit you up for money again. She uses you, and you know it. She’s a bitch with no fucking clue what real life is like because she messes up and you bail her out.”

  “But, Nat, I can’t just…”

  “Stop giving her money, and let her get her shit together, Teeny. Look at me. I have no skills. I have no other way to live because I have no family and no education, but I get up every single day, and every decision I make is for Elliot. The pension money and the medical insurance I have because of Brett’s service is the only thing that stands between us and the streets, and it isn’t easy, but you don’t see me gambling it all and relying on others to feed Elliot.”

  That’s true, and despite this one episode, Nat’s never abused the help I offer. Ally does. And Nat’s also right about her letting me see Tam. It’s only ever when she needs something, otherwise when I call to ask if she can come over, I get a no and the reminder that I didn’t want Tam.

  Which is bullshit. I love that kid like hell. I just thought that Ally needed to be aware that she needs to be a mom sometime.

  “I did! I told her I couldn’t give her anything because I don’t have any money, and she threatened to start stripping,” I say, tearing up because I hate the thought of it.

  She’s my only family, and I don’t want to lose her, and I know I will if she does this. She’ll get a bug up her ass about what a bitch I am and stay away for months again.

  I won’t know if Tam’s going to school or healthy or eating enough, because if Ally gets mad, I don’t hear from them for months until she calms down.

  “Let her, Teeny.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. You listen to me, Teeny. Ally had a child and she’s a mom. She’s a grown woman of twenty-four who has to learn to pay her rent and buy food. She has to stand on her own two feet and understand that if she doesn’t stop living like she’s still in high school, she will lose her kid.”

  “But—”

  “And I know that is hard for you to hear, but you need to face reality, Teeny. Tam isn’t your kid. If Ally didn’t need money or free childcare so she can party every weekend, then you would never see that kid. I know you love her and chances are she won’t have it great growing up with that mother of hers, but it’s not your call. You can’t save Ally unless she wants you to. And Tam, you gotta let it go, Teeny, because she’s using your love for that kid to play you.”

  I know she’s right. I do, but it’s not easy to just let go. What if she doesn’t feed her again, like last time? What if she gets tonsillitis again and Ally doesn’t get her antibiotics on time?

  I know Tam’s not mine, and trust me, I don’t want to be a mom at twenty-five without benefit of a husband to support and love us, but I do love Ally and Tam, and I don’t want to lose them forever.

  “I know.”

  “Now, what the hell’s going on with the spy movements when I came to the door?” she asks.

  I blush and mumble a curse under my breath, crossing myself out of habit as Gran used to do because she said repenting straight after a curse word negates the word altogether. Even if you meant it.

  “I, uh, met the neighbor,” I mutter, cheeks burning at the memory of his body before the rest of that event crashes down on me.

  “Lynx? Oh my gawd, finally! Did I tell you he was hot or what!”

  Well, yeah, she said he was, but I never once thought she was right. No offense to the dear departed Brett Lowe, but I don’t trust Nat’s judgement when it comes to men, after seeing his photo.

  “Um, sure.”

  “Oh, Teeny, don’t go all shy on me and blush! Lynx is great and he’s so sweet. He looks after Elliot all the time for me when I’m in a bind. He babysat last Thursday night when I had to go see Kimmy for the night visit, and he doesn’t complain one bit like most guys would.”

  Sweet? That man’s a Neanderthal with a filthy temper and a mean tongue, I think, scowling darkly because I don’t like that I run whenever a man gets uppity with me.

  I don’t blame myself. After all, my dad taught me really early on that running and hiding is a survival skill I should cultivate.

  “He’s an ass, and I won’t ever go over there again,” I swear, hoping he’s not around when I need to check and weed the vegetable patch.

  “What happened?” she groans, making me blush again, her eyes knowing.

  “I just…it was really hot, and Elliot was miserable.”

  I cross myself again, hoping Gran was right about the action because I don’t feel guilty about the lie at all. Mostly.

  “You went over?”

  “And swam in his pool. I didn’t know he’d be back, okay? The man is rarely ever at home, and it was the middle of the freaking afternoon. And no, he was okay about it until I called him a rich boy and then…well, he is not always nice. Let’s just leave it at that,” I say, shivering anew at the anger I saw in his eyes.

  I want to be fair, and yes, I cringe when I think about what I said because I know what an idiot I sounded like, making such a generalization about the man since I don’t know him. And I feel bad because, from what he growled at me, I was dead wrong about him being an entitled rich boy.

  But he scared me some, and I am so not going over there again.

  “Teeny—”

  “Anyway, so, yeah, I have had a really bad day, and now I have to freaking find the balls to ask Franklin for an advance on my paycheck because Ally never paid Xavier and he’ll evict her or worse this time.”

  People should just call me Groan from now on because lately that’s all I seem to do.

  “Oh, Teeny.”

  That’s all she says, and I am grateful for it when she leaves a few minutes later without another lecture. I really can’t handle another one right now, not after the way my day went.

  Chapter Four

  Teeny

  The knock on the door is loud and demanding, and I roll off the couch with a snarl because I just got to a comfy, cool spot, the only freaking one left in this furnace, and I am not happy to be giving it up.

  Trudging to the door, I growl when I fling it open, expecting Miranda Fay from down the road to be standing there demanding I cut the grass again.

  I will tell her off this time. I so will, and even if it won’t do anything but piss her off and have her on me like a rash, well—

  “Mir—”

  I stop talking straight away when I swing the door open and see who it is, the urge to close the door carrying through so hard I have to grip the door to keep from slamming it in his face.

  “Don’t close it! Please. I just came over to apologize,” he rushes out.

  I note in amusement that his foot inches forward slightly so that it’s just tucked into the corner in case I do close it.

  “Look, Mr. Wylder—”

  “Lynx. Please call me Lynx. Mr. Wylder is my pop.”
>
  “Er, okay, well, Lynx, it’s fine, okay? Apology accepted,” I say, really meaning it because if the man is big enough to apologize, then who am I to deny him?

  And anyway, I have done nothing but think while I roasted on the couch, and I agree that he was right to call me out. He made a kind offer, hell, even wanted to have a pool dug for me. The man just didn’t immediately get that I can’t afford it.

  I want to snort at that because look at my house! It needs painting, the roof needs re-shingling on one very small spot, and the updating required to bring it out of the sixties makes my eyes burn every time I walk into Gran’s yellow-and-orange kitchen.

  Anyone with eyeballs in their sockets can see I’m not flush with cash, so—

  “Great! Then, we can eat together,” he says, stepping over the threshold before I can refuse and push him back.

  The heat hits him instantly. I see it when he pauses in the small hall and blinks, taking a deep breath just as it all sinks in.

  New Orleans is hot most of the time. We don’t exactly have what some people call a winter climate, and in the spring, it feels like an oasis compared to the summer, which is what we’re in now.

  There are mosquitoes and storms that increase the humidity and heat and just plain discomfort, even for a native who knows the score here. I live close to the river. Hell, it’s in my backyard if I walk past the stand of trees beyond my yard, but even with the water this close, it’s freaking sweltering all the time.

  Especially in the house. You know it’s bad when I considered sleeping outside in the hammock to escape the heat inside.

  “God, Teeny, this place is hot as hell. How do you even sleep in here?” he gasps, nudging me away from the door when I go to close it. “Leave it open so some air can get in.”

  “Air? You call the soup swirling out there air?” I chuckle, swiping at my sweaty brow nervously because now that I’m not hating Lynx for being an ass, I notice once more just how good-looking he is.