Page 49 of Wilder

Having none of that this past week, with none of those long days to wear me down into a dreamless sleep, my mind had too much freedom; too much time to pull at threads that didn’t need to be unraveled in the first place.

Letting out another exhale, I dragged my feet against the carpet as I turned back toward my room.

Just sleep, that was the goal.

Passing out for the next few hours would hopefully do me some good; clear my head, dull the ache in my chest, and get my emotions back on track. Away from whatever train wreck I was barreling toward at full speed.

Because if I kept thinking like this, I knew exactly where I’d end up: in a padded fucking room.

Just as I was about to toss my phone across the room onto my bed, it buzzed in my hand, the sudden vibration jolting me out of my thoughts and making my stomach lurch.

For half a second, hope flickered to life, uninvited and stupidly persistent.

I expected to see Greyson’s name pop up on the screen—some half-assed apology, maybe even a reassurance that he was ditching the bar to come home and hang out. A sign that he had noticed I was in a sour mood and still gave a damn enough to come pull me out of it.

But when I glanced down at the screen, it wasn’t Greyson’s name staring back at me.

It was Wilder’s.

The breath I hadn’t realized I was holding slipped out. My pulse kicked up stupid and irrationally as I swiped open the message without hesitation.

Merry Xmas. Hope you and your fam are well.

Simple. Uncomplicated. Thoughtful.

My cheeks burned.

Without thinking, my hand flew to my mouth, trying and failing to stifle the wide grin stretching across my face.

God, what was wrong with me?

It was just a simple text. A two second effort on his part.

Still... the fact that he had reached out at all, that he had thought of me even while I wasn’t there made something flutter in my chest that had no business being there.

Shaking my head, I quickly typed back.

Thanks. How’s everything going over your way?

I hit send, then immediately regretted it when there was no instant reply like I’d just done. My stomach twisted as I stared at the screen, watching the message sit in our thread, unread and unacknowledged.

The seconds dragged. Then a full minute. Then two.

He wasn’t going to answer.

I was being so stupid.

It was Christmas, for God’s sake. Wilder had his own life to deal with and take care of. He was probably up at the main house with his mother, sitting by the fireplace with a cup of tea while they watched old holiday movies together.

He wasn’t sitting around staring at his phone waiting for my text. Hell, he probably hadn’t even hesitated before sending that message—just a quick, polite check-in before going back to his night. He probably figured I was also with my family, caught up in the same holiday chaos he was.

He had no reason to think otherwise. No reason to know that I was sitting in this dark empty house all by myself on Christmas evening.

Fuck, I really needed to go to bed and forget this entire fucking day.

Just as I was about to lock my phone and throw it across the bed for real this time, the screen lit up once again.

All good. Had dinner. Now Laken is playing music.