Page 113 of One Wild Wish

Assistance was required.

I fished my phone from my pink tool belt. Rachel’s school hours made her less reachable these days. I dialed Gwen.

Two rings later, she said, “You have impeccable timing.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re standing on a cliff edge.” Last time she was about to bungee jump, she conference called Rachel and me, hollering, “I love you bitches,” before she leapt off a mountain. The woman was certifiable.

“Nope. I was thinking the three of us should take a girls’ trip. You know, for our twenty-eighth birthday next year. Roatán is on my radar. Killer snorkeling. I can scuba dive, and you two can sun on the beach. There’s a cool town with bars and everything. What do you think?”

I either needed to earn more cash to make that happen, my father had to secure a steady job, or I could win the American Crossword Puzzle Tournament and make good use of that jackpot. “Love the idea, but not sure I can swing it. How about a solid maybe?”

Her answering sigh had me cocking my head. Gwen was generally upbeat. She loved her job at the adoption agency, was part of that weird CrossFit cult, and she could have her pick of men, if so inclined. She was also the one of us three girls who doled out the best advice. She called us on our bullshit, preferring to tell hard truths than sugar-coat them. That trait made her a savant when analyzing prospective parents for adoption. It also meant she was a doer, not a wallower.

“What’s with the heavy sigh?” I asked.

Silence answered me. Then, “My mother is sick.”

Sucking a sharp breath, I went to cover my heart with my hand, but I smacked my dangling face mask. “How sick?”

“The C word. So I went to see her, the first time in a couple years. We fought. Couldn’t even have a normal conversation. Now I’m sitting here, trying to figure out if I’ll be upset if she dies, and I’m planning a vacation because the idea of getting away from her and these uncomfortable feelings is the only thing making me feel better. I’m a horrible person.”

“You’re honest, love. That’s more than most people can say. And I’m sorry. Do you plan to spend time with her? Patch things up?” As tough as things had been for me growing up, my family was close. Gwen and her mother had waged their own civil war. Partly because her mother was a crotchety bitch, but she’d also refused to tell Gwen who her father was. Just like Owen’s mother.

They were both so well adjusted, considering.

“Unlikely. For now, I’ll keep researching Roatán and picturing beaches. Sorry to hijack the conversation. Why’d you call?”

My gaze drifted over the muddy ground, tool boxes, and piles of wood. It landed squarely on my construction hunk. Creeper. “I have found myself in a pickle, but if I tell you about it, you can’t make fun of me.”

“Hell to the no. I just told you my mother is sick. Making fun of you will distract me.”

Not much I could say to that. “It happened again.”

“You scored another Gucci purse?”

“Don’t I wish. No. My recent pattern of male crushing has resurfaced.”

She gasped. “Another gay man?”

“I have a problem.”

Her cackle had me holding the phone away from my ear. “This is the best! I mean, maybe it’s a fetish. Maybe, subconsciously, you want a threesome with a couple of beefy men. Or you’re a voyeur and want to watch them. Which actually sounds pretty hot.”

“Don’t make me regret telling you.”

She laughed harder, and I glared at a darkening cloud, wondering if I could telekinetically explode her head. I didn’t mention I’d met Owen on a Habitat for Humanity build. My foray to realize my birthday wish was doing as well as the Titanic, and sharing it aloud could jeopardize it further. I was volunteering, finally contributing to the community, but I’d expected the rough edges of my world to align, too. Like they had for Rachel. But I still worked for cheating men, my father hadn’t found a job, and my love life was beyond pathetic.

Apparently, I had to try harder.

“Okay, okay,” she said, catching her breath. “So…he’s gay. Move on. We’ll go out to a club. I’ll vet any potential cute men.”

If only it were that easy. “I’m all for the clubbing, but my issue is bigger than that. I like this guy. Like, like him , like him. We’re working together on a project, and I find myself telling him all sorts of things I never share. He’s nice and fun, and he’s crazy hot. Just…being around him is hard, so I keep him at a certain distance, but I hate the idea of losing him as a friend. I even show up when I know he’ll be volunteering, like a glutton for punishment. It’s a rock-and-a-hard-place scenario.”

Meaning, I’d like to be pinned between a rock and his hard place.

“That’s easy. Stop fighting it.”

“Did you miss the part where I said he was gay?”