Page 112 of Wilder

Asher

The walk back felt like it took forever.

I wasn’t sure what I expected by the time I climbed up the steps and slipped through the front door to head up to my room—maybe that all of this was some horrible nightmare that I’d wake up from at any moment, or that I’d hear the telltale stomps of Wilder’s boots coming up the stairs behind me, chasing me down after he’d gotten done telling Sully to kick rocks.

All nice fantasies that I held on to for the nine seconds it took for me to get up to my room and close the door behind me.

I collapsed down onto my bed face first while the rest of the world faded into a quiet, suffocating hum.

Halfway on my way back here, I’d wanted to turn around and storm back into Wilder’s house and demand for him to talk to me—to look at me—not push me away like he was trying to.

What was the point with us finally allowing ourselves to have what we wanted, only for one single person to come through and bulldoze all of that to pieces?

We’d spent an entire year dancing around the fucking subject with no end in sight until my stupid drunken confession. Now, it felt like things weren’t even back where we started, they were ten steps back from that.

God, I hated this.

I could still feel Wilder’s touch on me from the night before, those lingering ghost-like caresses trailing down my body, tracing the lines of my muscles while his lips found every sensitive part of me. His warm hands gripping my hips, the way he’d held me close as his cock moved inside me, felt more right than anything else had in my entire life.

The thought of all of that slipping right through my fingers, being forced to walk away from something so good just because Sully couldn’t pull his head out of his ass, made me irrevocably angry.

Wasn’t this worth fighting for?

Wasn’t I worth it?

“Goddamn it,” I mumbled into my mattress.

I didn’t want to think like that. As if Wilder suddenly owed me something just because we’d slept together one time. None of this was supposed to turn into such a mess in the first place, least of all explode into an entire catastrophe.

Even if I wanted to, I had no idea how the hell I could fix it. Calling my brothers for advice would only end in them telling me to come home and avoid the drama—what was the point in working for a business where I’d have to walk on eggshells.

I could already hear Gage’s mother hen voice rattling off in my ear as he sent me an e-ticket for the next flight out of Texas and a rideshare to pick me up.

As much as I loved my brothers, and valued their advice, there was absolutely no fucking way I was going to let Sully ice me out into leaving.

Not just because of Wilder, but for Pelly, too.

The door to my room creaked open behind me.

“Wow.” Laken’s voice was tinged with amusement when he spoke. “You’re already dressed? That’s new.”

I didn’t move, just let out a long, suffering sigh into my mattress. Thankfully, with the way my face was buried into my blankets it muffled the sound of the absolute, bone-deep despair leaking out of my mouth.

As much as I wanted to confide in him, I had no energy. He wouldn’t mean to but the interrogation would come, he’d want to know everything from when the hell I started liking Wilder to us actually having enough mutual attraction to get us both in bed in the first place.

The only reason my brothers knew was because I was shit at lying to them. Grey had clocked me the second time I’d called him from the ranch and if that wasn’t twin telepathy for you, I didn’t know what was.

Laken’s gaze tracked me when I finally pushed up from the mattress, turning just enough to look over my shoulder at him. He was leaning against the door frame, one hand curled around the edge of the frame while the other still gripped the doorknob, tapping his thumb absently against the metal.

He looked exactly how he always did—annoyingly put together without even trying. His usual t-shirt was tucked into a pair of well-worn jeans, his hair pushed back from his face with a dark orange bandana tied around his head.

If he noticed my piss poor mood, he didn’t comment on it. Just gave me a slight lift of his eyebrow in return.

I sighed quietly under my breath and swung my legs over the side of the bed until my feet hit the floor, elbows resting on my knees.

It wasn’t often I found myself sunk deep into a mood like this.

Most days, I didn’t let shit get to me. I’d always been the first to brush things off, crack a joke and keep things moving forward. I saw no point in outside situations bringing me down when there were only a few people in my life whose opinions I cared about.