Page 61 of Wilder

I groaned, rubbing a hand down my face. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Fine, fine,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But just so we’re clear, I’m bringing this up again later.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course he was.

I expected nothing less from the brother whose life goal was to torture me as much as humanly possible.

I shoulder checked him on the way to the kitchen, suddenly starving. “I can’t wait until you like someone so I can give you a taste of your own medicine.”

His warm laugh followed me. “Yeah, don’t hold your breath.”

CHAPTER 15

Wilder

Since arguing with Sully, I didn’t see much of him until around New Year’s.

We kept a respectful distance with each other, neither of us going out of our way to avoid each other, but not exactly seeking each other out, either. There was an unspoken understanding between us like there always was, though whether it was out of genuine courtesy or a silent agreement to avoid another heated conversation, I wasn’t entirely sure.

Maybe it was a bit of both.

Things hadn’t exactly been bad since Christmas evening. We worked and ran the ranch just fine, same as we always did, slipping back into the comfortable rhythm of daily responsibilities with practiced ease. But there was something different now, a shift in the way we navigated around each other that felt more careful.

More cautious.

Almost like we were both waiting—watching—to see who would make the first move, who would be the one to crack and finally acknowledge that our last conversation had left something unfinished. That there were still words hanging between us that neither of us had the energy to address.

I had no intention of being the one to do it.

If Sully had second thoughts about rehashing things and also wanted to pretend nothing happened, that was perfectly fine by me. I was more than willing to let the whole thing fade into the background, to bury it under the weight of chores and running this business in order to keep the peace.

In the meantime, I buried myself in work.

Long hours, relentless tasks—anything to keep my hands busy, my body moving, and my mind from wandering to places I didn’t need it to be drifting off to.

The hard labor took its toll like it always did. Muscles aching at the end of each day, bones creaking in protest when I finally managed to drag myself back to the main house, my mama’s worried frowns following me up the stairs to my bedroom.

I welcomed the exhaustion, eagerly traded in my physical comfort for the distraction it gave me. For anything that could keep my thoughts from drifting back to Asher Torres.

Since our last phone call, I hadn’t heard much.

No updates. No check-ins. Just an awkward kind of silence.

I fought every day not to text him, even if it was to innocently ask if he was okay, as if that quiet sadness I’d heard in his voice during our last conversation had faded into nothing more than a distant memory.

But each and every single time I reached for my phone, thumb hovering over his contact, I hesitated.

Because without fail, Sully’s words came roaring back in my head without warning: “Let’s not forget the fact that he’s nineteen.”

That single memory haunted me, sent my teeth clenching together while my jaw ticked as I shoved my phone back into my pocket and buried myself deeper in my work in order to ignore that nagging pang in my chest.

I missed him.

Terribly.

This place wasn’t the same without his boundless energy.

And his horse was a fucking pain in the ass to deal with.