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I was sleeping, and I’d hit snooze one too many times, and now my brain was punishing me.
Except, when I made my way back towards the bar, everyone was behaving normally, and Wilder was pacing near the entrance with a cell phone pressed to his ear. He didn’t look as unhappy as I might have expected. His expression was tense and serious, but not angry.
He and Cash had never been on bad terms. In spite of my connection to Wilder being the final nail in Cash’s and my relationship coffin, it wasn’t like Wilder had stolen me away. There were a lot of existing problems between us neither of us had wanted to acknowledge. Wilder was the light that made those fractures easier to see.
Still, I couldn’t imagine any reason why Cash would reach out to Wilder.
Then I remembered my missed call from Cash, and the nervous swell in my stomach started to churn again.
He hadn’t been able to reach me, so he went to Wilder instead?
Something had to be seriously wrong.
As I got closer I heard Wilder’s part of the conversation more clearly. “I’m not sure what you think it is she can do to help, Cash.”
I couldn’t quite make out Cash’s end, since the officers still on the scene were chatting loudly nearby, and a radio in the squad car was warbling about some code I didn’t know the meaning of. Wilder’s brows knit together, his square jaw tightening. He scratched his chin, the faint stubble glinting in the growing morning light. He was nodding in spite of the fact Cash couldn’t see him.
“I’ll tell her—” He was interrupted. This time his brows lifted. “All right, man, I get it. I’ll see what I can do.”
The call disconnected before I got close enough to get any clues about Cash’s motivations. When I came up to Wilder’s side, he slipped his phone into his back pocket nonchalantly and pulled me towards him. His thumb hooked through one of the belt loops on my jeans, and with his other hand he brushed back several damp strands of hair from my forehead.
The way he looked at me, those muddled hazel eyes flecked with bright green, was enough to make my insides melt. I’d just thrown up and must have resembled something the cat dragged in, yet Wilder smiled at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.
I was in very real danger of falling in love with this man.
“What did Cash want?” Instead of breaking free, I leaned into his embrace, letting the warmth of his body engulf me. Pack meant comfort. Other wolves could help me feel safe and whole again, so why not take advantage of one who was right in front of me?
“He said he called you.”
“Left a message, but I’ve been too busy to check.” Was there a hint of jealousy in his voice? I was loath to admit it, but I kind of liked it when Wilder got a bit territorial. He was so often the calm, collected one, it was nice to know he cared enough to sometimes feel like he needed to prove he was the one I should be with.
Not that he had anything to worry about.
“Ah. Look, this can wait until we’re done here. You’ve got enough going on right now as it is. Maybe Mags and I could take this one?”
Mags, who was standing apart from us, shifting uncomfortably from our public-place snuggle time, perked up at her name. “I could do what now?”
“I was telling Genie we could help Cash with his problem so she can deal with Emmett and Mason.” I saw the imploring look he was giving her, practically begging her to go along with it.
Magnolia, for all her wonderful abilities, had been raised by a humorless mother and surrounded by socially inept werewolves. She didn’t really get subtle, expression-based hints.
“No, I’m sure Genie wants to help Cash herself.”
There was no way Wilder could hide his heavy sigh. His chest moved against mine.
“Can you just tell me what’s happening?” I asked.
“Cash has a friend, and apparently this friend is having some very…supernatural problems. He must have told her about you because now she’s convinced you can help her.”
She. Her.
I wasn’t sure why it stung, but when I realized Cash’s friend must have been a new girlfriend, I felt my own momentary pang of jealousy.
Ah, the heart, what a tricky little bitch she is.
I didn’t miss Cash, but a small part of me would always feel connected to him, and right now it was as if that part of me had been stabbed in the guts.
I kept my expression schooled and calm, and hoped my pulse didn’t betray anything. Wilder might get the wrong impression.
