Page 209 of One Wild Wish

She pinched my side. “Aside from that. But we’ll laugh about it eventually.”

In her dark jeans and cream blouse, adorably freckled Rachel appeared sweet and levelheaded, not like a flake who believed in crystal balls and fairy godmothers. But she was insisting August was a sign, the lost luggage fate, the diary my destiny.

The notion was wild and impossible. Or was it?

Today’s strange happenings were precisely what made it hard to dismiss her hypothesis. There was no point fighting something unexplainable, especially when the mystery brought with it a certain dark-haired musician.

I’d had it bad for August since the sweltering summer day he’d invited me to run, screaming and laughing, through his sprinklers. I’d been nine years old and struck dumb by a boy with a smile big enough to brighten my somber world.

I glanced at the exit, shaky and apprehensive, knowing he was out there. “He never answered when I asked him to help me find my father. What if he says no?”

Ainsley stood and smoothed her dress. “After the comment he made, and those fuck-me eyes, there’s no way he’ll say no. I guarantee he’s out there right now, dishing to the guys about you. Which means I need to fix your eyeliner before we go back out.”

“Oh!” Rachel clapped. “It’s like you guys are performing a remake of Grease —us girls in here, the boys out there, gossiping about your lost love. It’s so romantic.”

Clearly Rachel was as delusional as me, but I pictured the silly scene and smiled as my friends fussed over my smudged face.

7

6 p.m., 30 Hours…

August

“You, my man, have balls of iron.” Jimmy shook his head at me, pretty much all he and Owen had done since the girls’ not-so-subtle bathroom dash.

I’d gotten away with staying mum while our waitress came by and I decided on a beer, but there was no avoiding the grenade I’d launched. “My history with Gwen is complicated.”

Owen shifted his chair forward. “I thought I had it rough with my ex-wife, but your situation seems sticky as hell. Actually…” He frowned at the blackboard menu above the bar. “Ainsley crushed on my brother before we met. If Emmett was straight, she would have slept with him. Hate to think where that would have left us.” He rubbed his chest.

I was well acquainted with that pain. “I’ve been angry with her a long time.”

Jimmy leaned his elbows on the table, dark eyes narrowing. He looked like a brute in this kitschy bar, daisies on the lime green tables, birds painted on the walls. “If you said that to upset her before, as nice as it’s been seeing you, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Under different circumstances, his hard tone would have my shoulders bunching toward my ears, but the ultimatum meant Gwen had people who cared for her.

“I didn’t.” I rubbed this salty day from my eyes, unsure how much to say. I rarely spoke with Finch anymore. My bandmates were cool, but we didn’t sit up at night braiding one another’s hair and swapping stories. I hadn’t seen these guys in twelve years, but some friendships defied the laws of time.

I shoved my right hand into my jeans pocket, finding one of my guitar picks. I spun it in circles. “I’ve had it bad for Gwen for as long as I can remember, and for a bunch of stupid reasons on both our parts, we never acted on how we felt. The closest we ever got was the day she turned nineteen, and she slept with my twin. But seeing her now…” My body hummed at the thought of her. “I’m tired of letting one fuck-up ruin our chances. Not sure I can let her walk away this time.”

Studying her packed box filled with our memories had knocked my head clear. She hadn’t let go of me, like I hadn’t let go of her, even though I’d tried.

I’d driven to my hotel afterward, unable to shake thoughts of her. My bitterness had dripped into the drain as I’d showered, imagining Gwen under that hot stream with me. It had thinned into nothing as I’d dressed and hopped in my car, jumpy and nervous. Not because I dreaded seeing Gwen.

Because I couldn’t wait to be with her again, anywhere near her, touching her, breathing her in.

One afternoon, and I was hooked.

Jimmy stared at me like I had carrots dangling from my nose. “So you thought you’d share your history with the group?”

I released the guitar pick and passed my hand over my mouth, wishing I’d sewn it shut. “It kind of slipped out. I’m tired of us tiptoeing around each other.”

He barked out a laugh. “It kind of slipped out. Have you met these girls? Ainsley will eat you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” The asshole kept laughing.

If making our history non-taboo helped Gwen and me rediscover our footing, it was worth it. Getting over her night with Finch would still be a tough wall to scale, but we’d made huge strides earlier, and walking away now would leave me with less closure than before. Just a few hours with her had lyrics looping through my head, odd fragments I’d been jotting down since I’d left her mother’s.

Time licks wounds. Touch remembers. Infinite flames.

Finch’s betrayal had been more personal, complications that had stemmed from decisions made prior to that shit-storm. Gwen, I could forgive, and I meant what I’d told her earlier: I was done analyzing my actions. If I wanted to flirt with her, I would. If I wanted to touch her, tease her, kiss her, I would.