The sunlight felt nice soaking into me, and the beer was cold. I’d had worse days, right? I could come up with an entire fucking list without even having to stop and think about it. But it didn’t take the edge off by much because today just plain sucked too. I was sitting here with a beer and it should have been great, but all I could think about was how much better it had been the times that Lee had been sitting here next to me.
I finished my beer and went back inside, carrying the empty can. The front door slammed and a minute later Wilder strolled into the kitchen. “Hey,” he said. He opened the refrigerator and wrinkled his nose. “How come you didn’t bring any cake? Did you fight with your boyfriend?”
And I knew he was joking, but the way he said it hit me wrong, like he just assumed I’d fucked up somehow. With everything else that had gone on today, it was enough to have all my anger and misery come rushing to the surface. Any calm I’d gained from taking deep breaths went flying right out the fucking window—at around the same time my beer can went flying toward Wilder’s head.
Wilder ducked out of the way and the can bounced off the refrigerator door and clattered to the ground where it rocked lazily from side to side while Wilder stared at me, wide-eyed.
“What thehell, Chase?”
I’d say the apology was on the tip of my tongue, but it really wasn’t. Just more anger. “Fuck off.”
Wilder didn’t get angry in return, though. Instead, he lifted his chin and said, “Hey, what’s going on? You okay?”
That was wrong. He was supposed to get pissed at me so I didn’t have to feel like shit for being pissed at him. So I muttered another, “Fuck off.”
Then he took a step closer, which was the opposite of what I wanted. I glared at him in warning and he stopped before he was close enough to touch me, thank fuck. If he tried to hug me right now, I might fly apart at the seams. “Seriously,” he asked, “what gives?”
“Nothing,” I muttered. “Just a shit day.”
Wilder’s brow creased, and then understanding dawned in his eyes as he put the pieces together. “Did something happen with Lee?” he asked. “Do I need to punch him?”
I snorted despite myself. Wilder was tall and he was kind of built, but Lee was packing a whole lot of solid muscle that he’d earned lugging around fifty-pound sacks of flour, all day, every day. He could wipe the floor with Wilder and not even break a sweat. Still, I didn’t doubt that if I asked him to, Wilder would throw hands for me. I wasn’t sure how that made me feel. I’d always looked after Cash and me, and I sure as shit didn’t need any help now—but Wilder offering to have my back was a reminder that maybe I didn’t have to do everything alone.
And that was what broke me.
My eyes burned, and I blinked away the wet sheen. “We broke up, that’s all. Whatever.”
To my horror my voice hitched. I glared at Wilder, daring him to say something as I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. He took a half step forward, paused, then turned and left the room. At first I thought he’d taken the hint and left me alone, and I was left trying to figure out why that stung so much. It was what I wanted, wasn’t it?
Then I heard the mower cut out, and Wilder came back with Danny hot on his heels. Danny took one look at my face, put an arm around my shoulders, and steered me into the living roomand sat me on the couch. He sat in Cash’s armchair facing me and said, “Wanna tell me what happened?” in a tone I’d only ever heard him use on Cash’s worst days, so I knew I must look as bad as I felt.
I looked at Danny, then at Wilder, then at Danny again, and said, “Is this an intervention?”
“Don’t do that,” Danny said earnestly. “This isn’t a joke. This is us checking that you’re okay.”
“It’s fine.” My tongue felt twice as big as it should have. “It’s no big deal.”
“You haven’t had a boyfriend in as long as we’ve known you,” Danny said. “So maybe it’s a bigger deal than you’re saying.”
I’d never had a boyfriend, but that wasn’t the point. “We were together for like a hot second. It really isn’t.”
Danny nodded, still looking earnest. “I get that, but it’s not just about how long it lasted, is it? It’s about how you felt, and what you wanted, and how much all that turns out to have weighed.”
Straight for the fucking jugular, Danny.
“It’s fine,” I said again. “It’s no big deal. Wanting things… wanting things is for little kids who still believe in Santa.”
They exchanged a look but didn’t try to correct me. Hell, even I knew I was talking shit, so I appreciated that.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Wilder asked.
“Nope.” I shook my head fast enough to rattle my brain. “Hell, no.”
They exchanged that look again.
“Look,” I said. “Can’t we say that we were both assholes and leave it at that? And it’s done, and nobody needs to get beaten up, and we can just go back to the way things were.”
“You’re not an asshole, Chase,” Danny said.
