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"I don't know," Wilder wipes the sweat off his face with his forearm. "I started noticing he was spending a lot less time with you over the last year. When he did make plans with you, he always invited me. Almost like he needed a buffer."
"I wonder why," I muse as I cross my arms over my chest.
"Who knows," Wilder shrugs. "Cash and the Allreds are secretive people. They don't like anyone knowing their business."
"It's weird, right?"
"I guess."
"I am sorry, Wilder," I try.
"I know, Blondie."
"I don't want to fight like that anymore," I reveal.
He licks his lips. "Me either."
"Why do we always go for the jugular?" I inhale sharply.
Wilder cocks an intrigued eyebrow. "Sexual tension."
I roll my eyes dramatically. "Not everything is about sex."
"No," he agrees. "Sometimes, it's about connection."
What? Is he implying that we have some sort of connection that isn't sex but sexual?
"I don't get it." I whip my head back.
"We have the same wound."
"And what wound is that?" I tilt my head to the side.
"The rejection wound," he states. "My dad rejected me. Cash rejected you. We've both been rejected by the people we love."
Wilder takes a step forward and orders a beer as I stand perfectly still, the realization that we're not all that different crashing over me. He slips out his fake ID and winks at me as the beverage cart girl hands him over a Coors Light.
"Water," I tell her as Wilder takes a long swig from the silver bottle in his hand.
"You ready to head back and kick my ass?" Wilder flashes his eyebrows at me.
"As long as you promise to start hitting the balls for Hendrix," I quip. "I'd like to get home before midnight."
"She sucks, doesn't she?" he laughs.
"Do you find that attractive?" I quiz him. "Women who downplay their intellect and athletic ability."
"Damsels-in-distress?" he rephrases.
"Yeah."
"Honestly, Blondie, I'm barely saving myself from all the shit I'm drowning in. I don't have the strength to save anyone else."
I clink my water bottle against his beer. "Touché."
The next three holes go much faster as the sun begins its descent. Hendrix stole Wilder's beer and downed it before he had a chance to. Since then, she's used it as an excuse to act bolder than she was before. Her drunken advances don't seem to faze Wilder.
Ian ends up winning by one point, and we high-five as Wilder grumbles behind us.
