Eighteen

Wilder

The laughter coming from the living room of my mom’s house filled my ears the moment I opened the front door. Belladonna came rounding the corner, sliding slightly on the tiled floor, then coming to an abrupt stop when she realized it was me. Her head tilted to the side, as if she wasn’t sure she was happy to see me. The poor pup probably realized that my appearance meant that Oakley would be leaving.

“Yeah, I’m thrilled to see you too,” I muttered to her and bent slightly to pet her head before walking toward the voices.

I could hear my stepbrother, Scott, telling some story about his last trip with more enthusiasm than necessary. I knew without being in there to take in the scene that it was all for Oakley’s benefit.

No one noticed me when I entered the room. My mother’s gas fireplace was lit, but then it was sixty degrees today, which was rare for November in Florida. Sarah was curled up beside my mom, looking completely content. My gaze scanned the room to find Oakley. Who was looking at me. Someone had noticed me after all.

A small smile lifted the corner of her lips. To anyone peering in from the outside, Oakley would seem like a fashion model, plucked from a billboard and placed in a room full of average people. Yet she didn’t appear uncomfortable. In fact, she seemed relaxed and … happy. Scott’s attention was completely on her, like I’d already guessed, but she didn’t mind or care. Even though there was a brunette sitting so closely to his side that she was almost in his lap.

“DADDY!” Sarah’s squeal snapped me out of my locked gaze with Oakley, and I swung my eyes back to my daughter, who was up and running toward me.

No female had ever been as happy to see me as this one was, and it felt good. It felt like it used to … before. My chest felt tight and achy as I squatted down to catch her just as she flung herself into my arms.

“YOU’RE HERE!”

Smiling, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the tight embrace. Damn, this was nice. No, it was more than nice. It was perfect. Normally, Thanksgivings with Sarah were the day after, and we shared leftovers here or at my apartment, then went to look at Christmas lights. It all depended on when Sylvia would allow me to have her.

“We waited on you to eat, but I did save you one of the best turkey cake pops, and Oakley saved you one of the pumpkin ones because she said you liked pumpkin pie.” She finished that sentence with a scrunch of her nose, making it clear she didn’t like the last one.

My gaze went back to Oakley, who was standing up now with my mom. She remembered I liked pumpkin pie. We had only had one Thanksgiving together, and it had been a tense one. Sylvia had been determined to make sure Oakley knew about my mistake.

I shoved that memory away. Not one I wanted to relive. Ever.

“You can sit and visit,” my mom told Oakley. “You’ve helped more than enough already. Let me and Jojo handle things in the kitchen. Visit with Wilder.” Her eyes shifted to me then, and she winked.

Great, Mom. Don’t be obvious about your very incorrect assumption of this situation or anything.

I gave her a pointed look, warning her to back off. This was for Sarah. It had nothing to do with Oakley and me. That ship had never even made it to the dock.

“I’m sure Sarah can tell me all I need to know and update me on what I missed. Oakley is free to help you or whatever she prefers to do,” I said in a way that I hoped made it clear to everyone that we were not an item. Not even fucking close.

I didn’t look at Oakley again, but I nodded my head to Porter, my stepdad, then went with Sarah to sit down across from Scott, who was watching Oakley.

Stop drooling, brother. Your date is watching you.

“I’ll just go help in the kitchen,” Oakley told my mother.

I could feel my mom’s eyes boring into me, but I didn’t meet them.

Stop trying to matchmake, Mom. Not the time or the woman.

The brunette with Scott didn’t move or offer to help. She did, however, turn her eyes up to me and smile brightly.

Sarah stood up and looked from the retreating forms of the other women, then back at me. “Uh, I should help too,” she said to me.

I knew she didn’t want to hurt my feelings, but she was clearly choosing to be with Oakley over me.

“Go on,” I reassured her with a wink.

Her relieved smile returned, and she took off after them with Belladonna at her side. It was Thanksgiving, and this was her first time to have a real one with my family. I wanted it to be all she had hoped. If being with Oakley was part of that, then so be it.

Porter’s large hand slapped my knee. “Never thought you were a dumb man.” His deep voice was gravelly. “But I’m second-guessing that.”

I shot him an annoyed look.

“He needs fucking glasses,” Scott said, agreeing with his father and not caring that the woman beside him was hearing this.

Jackass.

They both needed to put a stop to all the Oakley talk now. Sarah didn’t need to overhear this and get the wrong idea.

“She is Sarah’s aunt. Who I am putting up with for my daughter’s sake. If Sarah didn’t love her so much, she wouldn’t be here. I’d rather not have to see her ever again.”

“Like I said, he needs glasses,” Scott said, looking at me as if I were insane.

“You’re old enough to know by now that beauty is only skin deep and a person’s nature can make them ugly. When I look at Oakley, I don’t see anything worth keeping.” It was a lie, and the moment I said it, I felt guilty.

Movement from the doorway caught my attention, and I turned my head to see Oakley standing there, staring at me as if I had just slapped her face. Those blue eyes were wide, and—fuck me—they were wet with unshed tears before she spun around and was gone. That was something I hadn’t meant for her to hear. I didn’t want to hurt her, just keep her at arm’s length. No, screw that. I needed to keep her at a football field’s length.

“I might not know her,” Porter said. “But I’m real good at reading people. Have been most of my life. Ain’t never once been fooled by someone. And the couple of hours I’ve spent around that girl, watched her with Sarah and your mom, well, I think you are wrong, son. That pretty face has a kind heart to go with it. You’d better not let your momma hear you talk about her like that. I think Azalea has already fallen in love with her.” He clamped his hand on my shoulder. “Good luck with that.”

My throat burned as I sat there, fighting the urge to go apologize to Oakley. No one else seemed to have noticed her overhearing me. But I knew she had.

Even after the shit she had put me through, the hell I had lived through because of her, I still couldn’t bring myself to hate her. I had lied to myself for years, claiming I hated her, but faced with the reality, I knew it was never true. She’d broken my heart. That was what I had hated. Not her. I doubted I ever could.