Page 18 of Wilder

What? “You’re in AIT.”

“I’m so glad you remember,” he shot back, completely unfazed.

“You don’t get vacation time?”

“Well, technically I do,” he replied. “I’ve just used all of it. But let’s just say I found a very... persuasive way to request a few personal days off that won’t be counted on my timesheet.”

That had me raising my brow instantly.

I had half a mind to ask him what in the world he promised his upper command or what he offered to do to get a time request off his books that didn’t count against his actual stored vacation time but that was probably a conversation best discussed when we were face to face again.

“So what I’m hearing,” I said, amused. “Is that you bullshitted your way into getting approved.”

He made a noncommittal noise. “Details, details.”

I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “You’re crazy.”

“I prefer visionary,” he corrected.

“So what, this was your grand plan? Heading back home to surprise Gage?” Which was all nice and good but didn’t seem very grand like he’d made it sound like.

“Basically. I’m thinking you should call him, though—really sell this to him. Tell him we won’t be able to come around for the holidays. Drive it home that he’s gonna be all alone for the first time ever and let the disappointment sink in. Then, when we pop up and surprise him, boom! He’ll be so happy to see us that it’ll make him cry. Isn’t that a perfect plan?”

I snorted. “That’s diabolical.”

“It’s effective and my Christmas gift to myself. Come on, don’t you miss pranking him? He always gives us the best reactions.”

True.

Gage had a way of reacting just dramatically enough to make every prank we pulled on him worth it. He wasn’t the type to brush it off with an eye roll or a dismissive quip. He felt every inconvenience, every moment of frustration, and let us know it in the exasperated huffs he let out right before wrapping us both up in his arms to squeeze the life out of us.

It was the perfect symbiotic relationship of older and little brothers.

Plus, if I was being honest... it would be nice to actually be home for the holidays.

This would’ve been my first year away if not for Greyson’s spur-of-the-moment and completely insane plan.

I hadn’t let myself dwell on it much, figuring I’d just power through and treat this month like any other. Spending Christmas on the ranch wouldn’t have been bad by any means. There would probably be some kind of dinner with whoever didn’t make it back home to their families, maybe even a drink or two before we all passed around some small gift we grabbed while out in town.

It wouldn’t have been horrible, but it definitely wouldn’t have been the same as going back to Baton Rouge.

Not even close.

Nothing could compare to what we’d built—our traditions, our own little version of the holidays that belonged to just the three of us.

Things like staying up way too late on Christmas Eve watching movies, tossing popcorn at each other until someone bit the bullet and brought out the dustpan to sweep it all up. The way Gage, no matter how exhausted he was from the increase in calls from people being absolute dumbasses over the holidays, always made sure we had a stupidly big breakfast in the morning to wake up to.

How we spent the entire day after opening presents wrapped up in the warmth of each other, filling the house with laughter and the feeling that, no matter what happened during the rest of the year, we were finally all together again.

My chest ached from the memories.

And the thought of missing any of that?

Just to sit in the bunkhouse, surrounded by my coworkers who were all good people in their own right but weren’t family—weren’t the ones who raised me, looked out for me, been my home even when ours had shattered after our parents died?

Yeah, no.

I wanted to go home.