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There's a knot in the pit of my stomach that's making it impossible to breathe. Or think. I'm still in shock. Shock that less than ten minutes ago, Fanny admitted to getting Dad fired and sending Cash away.
The only reason Jason's company didn't press charges is because Cash told us he'd go to Europe without you. I saved the day by generously donating all the missing funds as a favor to my son's girlfriend. You know, to keep things hush-hush. So, you'll delete those photos or I'll go back to Jason's company and personally see to it that he does prison time for the money everyone thinks he stole.
I don't know what to think. Or do. How could anyone be so heartless? I doubt Isla could even be capable of such evil.
What am I going to do? Should I tell Mom and Dad? Reach out to Cash? Try to get Fanny to confess again, and record her so I can prove what she did?
My head begins pounding as I close my eyes and rest my forehead on the steering wheel in front of me. This is all so confusing.
If Cash dumped me to keep Dad from going to jail for a crime his own mother committed, then that complicates things, doesn't it? How long has Fanny been blackmailing him? What if it's been going on for years?
Maybe I misjudged Cash. Maybe I decided he was selfish and self-righteous without knowing the truth. The whole truth. I based everything on a lie. But if I did that, if I chose to see the worst in Cash when all he was doing was protecting me, then I'm a traitor who slept with his best friend. A traitor for having all these feelings for Wilder. For wanting bottled-up lightning when I had stardust. Cash wasn't perfect but can I blame him for his misgivings? He was living with his worst nightmare.
I hear a tap on the car window. I wipe a tear away before rolling it down.
"License and registration," Wilder jokes.
I force a smile through the tears. "Why did you pull me over, Officer?"
Wilder grips the car frame with his hands. "For beating yourself up over shit you have no control over."
My bottom lip trembles. "But he..."
"He had a chance to do the right thing. Like, going to the police with the information he had. Instead, he made you feel worthless. Even if he did it to protect you, Cash went about it the wrong way," Wilder assures me.
I lick my lips. "What if he didn't know how to do the right thing? And then I...I slept with you. I...I feel things for you I never felt for him."
Wilder's hand cups my cheek. "You don't get to feel guilty for making decisions based on other people's dishonest actions. They lied to you. They broke your heart. They made your dad lose his job. Cash has a moral compass. I've seen him use it. He knew what to do but he chose to ignore the problem and go to Europe."
"Maybe he was tired of defending our relationship," I hitch a shoulder. "Four years is a long time. So, maybe it was easier to end things and run."
"Do you regret—"
"No," I cut him off. "I don't regret anything we've done this summer."
Wilder lets out a heavy breath. "This changes things, doesn't it?"
I shrug as headlights from a passing car light up his face. "I don't see how it changes anything. Cash is gone, and Fanny will just continue to blackmail him if he comes home. Cash is... the past. For me, at least. The only thing I feel bad about is that the one friend he did have—does have—I couldn't stay away from."
"No," Wilder argues. "I couldn't stay away from you."
"What are we going to do?"
"We need to find a way to prove Fanny took that money," he raises an eyebrow.
"I don't want to think about Fanny anymore tonight," I touch his hand. "Come home with me."
Wilder sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, mulling over my offer.
"Please," I say again. I want to tell him that I can't see a future without him in it. That losing him to Cash will devastate me the same way a forest fire devours a dry mountainside. But those are words that I can't say out loud right now. Because Cash saw Wilder first. And I wish there weren't all these rules about falling in love with someone you're not supposed to. I wish there was a way I could be with Wilder—really be with him—without ruining his friendship with Cash.
But there isn't. This is complicated and confusing. And every time I have sex with Wilder, another part of me falls madly in love with him. Another part of me is gone—forever. He's not Cash hanging out in a room in my heart I allowed him to enter. Wilder owns the whole house. He came in and filled every room with his sarcastic humor and his soundless hurt. His wild spirit and his gentle touch. He's made me feel things I've never felt before. I forgot how to laugh—I forgot how to enjoy my life— before him. He used to be the asshole in the back seat of Cash's truck, but now he's the one person in my life who makes everything better.
He makes it better.
"If I go home with you," he inhales sharply, "it's going to make things harder, Blondie."
"I just want to be with you, Wilder," I reply. "After what just happened in there, I just want to be with you. So, please get in the car and come with me."
