Wilder Page 25

  “Just so you know,” I say, getting my shit under control, “you’ve got ten more minutes of this, and then we’re moving to the bedroom where you’re gonna show me all the ways you prefer to be touched. After that, I’m gonna show you my appreciation for all that gushing you had to do with Simon, and after I’ve clocked up time with interest for that, you’re gonna wrap those pretty fuckin’ lips of yours around my dick and show me how fuckin’ much you like it.”

  The heat that flares all the fuck over her only gets me harder than I already am. “Sometimes I really like your bossiness, Justin Miller.”

  “Sometimes, I don’t care if you do or not.”

  Before I see her coming, she’s got her feet out of my hands, her ass on my lap, and her lips on mine in a kiss that sends every ounce of blood in my body to my dick. When she’s done, she says with the kind of urgency I really fucking like, “I’m ready to show you all the things you want me to, so you need to hurry the fuck up and take me wherever you want me to do that.”

  “Fuck,” I growl, standing and taking her with me. “Sometimes I really fuckin’ like your bossiness, darlin’.”

  She threads her fingers through my hair. “Let’s be real, you just like getting your eyes, hands, or mouth on my pussy.”

  “How the fuck is it that you can read me so well now when you couldn’t for the last year and a half?” I ask as I carry her into her bedroom.

  “I don’t know, but I’m beginning to think we took foreplay to the extreme, and now we’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

  I couldn’t fucking agree more, and I intend to start on that tonight.

  33

  Scarlett

  Monday comes as fast and furious as Vin Diesel.

  Yoga with Chelsea is something else as she sprinkles more cheer across my morning than Santa spreads the entire month of December. How anyone can be so happy so early on a Monday morning is knowledge that continues to evade me.

  I survive yoga.

  Just.

  It’s a lot a lot this morning with Chelsea’s unending conversation and my extreme tiredness thanks to Wilder keeping me awake most of the night. Hell, the man kept me awake nearly all weekend. By the time I get home, I’m ready for ten naps.

  I’ve got the day off, and the only plans I have are to make tea, water my plants, write in my journal, and not do much else. Oh, I did promise Wilder I’d do the banking for him since he’s got a busy day at work and won’t get a chance to drive the weekend takings to the bank. But other than that, I’m not leaving my couch.

  Those plans all go to shit when Bailey’s psychiatrist calls with the news I’ve been dreading since the day he entered rehab.

  He’s checked himself out.

  He’s quit rehab.

  He’s God knows where, doing God knows what.

  I want to scream, to yell, to punch holes in my wall.

  I don’t though.

  Instead, I calmly call my brother and wait for him to tell me what he’s doing.

  He doesn’t answer the call, which doesn’t surprise me, but ensures my anxiety and worry inch higher.

  Taking a deep breath, I sit at my kitchen table so I can attempt to think rationally about where he would go. I come up with a list of his friends he might go to, as well as a list of people he’s bought drugs from in the past. The ones I know about because I’ve had to help get him out of the shit with them when he hasn’t made good on his promise to pay them. I doubt any would supply him now; he’s used and abused them enough to be turned away, but he might still go to them, which means they may be able to help me find him.

  A text comes through as I’m finishing making these lists.

  Wilder: Are you able to come earlier to get this banking done? Say in an hour?

  I call him.

  “Hey,” he answers, sounding like he’s got a million things happening at once.

  I swallow down my fear, not wanting to worry him with it. “I’m sorry, but I can’t come in now. Bailey’s checked himself out of rehab, so I’m gonna go look for him.”

  “Have you spoken with him?”

  “No, he’s not answering his phone. His psychiatrist called to let me know. He said Bailey wasn’t in a good state this morning.”

  “I’ll finish up the urgent shit here and then come help you.”

  “No, you’ve got a lot on today. You stay there.”

  “Scar,” he says, his voice a mix of soft and firm. “I wanna help.”

  “I know you do, but I’ve got this.” When a text comes through, I say, “I’ve gotta go. I’ll check in with you later.”

  Without waiting for his response, I end the call and quickly check the message, hoping like hell it’s from my brother.

  Paul: You wanna hang out this arvo? I finish work at 2pm.

  I don’t reply.

  I don’t have time.

  I need to find Bailey.

  Even as I slip out my front door, though, I know deep down that by the time I find him, it’s going to be too late. My brother is good at hiding from me when he wants to, and he’s even better at sourcing the drugs he craves. At this point, all I can hope for is that he doesn’t overdose the same way our mother did that last time she skipped out on rehab.

  Wilder: Scarlett, call me. I’m worried about you.

  I ignore Wilder’s text the same way I’ve ignored the three calls he’s made today and the other two texts he’s sent. I can’t think straight enough to talk or text with him. Not when I’m running out of possibilities for where Bailey might be.

  I’ve been searching Brisbane for the past ten hours. I’m exhausted, maybe more mentally than physically, which is saying something because I’m more tired than I can recall being in a long time.

  None of Bailey’s friends have seen him and none of his past suppliers have either. I’ve searched down all the cafes I know my brother frequents—pubs and other favourite hangouts too. I’ve driven all over Brisbane and out to Ipswich as well because some of Bailey’s friends live there.

  He’s nowhere to be found.

  And I’m coming apart in a way I never come apart.

  Fraying with emotions I can’t get a handle on.

  I’m unsure if that’s because I’m so fucking exhausted or because I’m crippled with worry and fear.

  My brother could be lying in an alley or a ditch or fuck knows where dead.

  I sink down to sit in the gutter of the backstreet I’m currently in. Somewhere in Nundah. I’ve been trawling through the streets here because this is the suburb I found Bailey in the last time shit went bad with him. That time, I only just got him to hospital in time.

  I drop my head into my hands and let my tears fall. The tears that have sat at the back of my eyes for the entire time I’ve been out searching today. It turns out ten hours’ worth of tears is a lot of fucking tears. Who knew a person could have this much inside them?

  “Fuck,” I mutter, wiping my cheeks, willing the tears to just fucking stop.

  Wilder calls again.

  Again, I ignore the call, this time switching my phone to silent. I’d turn it all the way off if I wasn’t still holding out hope that Bailey will call me. Spoiler alert: he’s not going to, but it’s the one bit of hope I always carry. That my brother will reach out to me for help.

  Drawing a deep breath in and then exhaling it, I pull myself up.

  You need to keep searching, Scarlett.

  You can’t let Bailey die.

  I can’t. I won’t. I refuse to.

  I couldn’t save my mother, but I’ll do every-fucking-thing I can to save my brother.

  At 11:00 p.m., I finally admit that I’m not going to find Bailey today. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to admit to myself. It feels like I’m giving up. Like I didn’t do absolutely everything in my power to find him. Like I’m a fucking failure.

  Tears blur my vision as I drive home. I keep wiping at them, but they keep coming. I’m beginning to think I may never stop crying if I d
on’t find my brother.

  I make it home somehow, and after parking my car, I slowly make my way up the three flights of stairs to my flat that’s on the top level of the complex.

  As I take the last step, I catch sight of Wilder. His eyes meet mine as he stands from where he sat at my front door. Exhaustion and worry line his face. I see that from where I am and immediately wish I hadn’t done that to him. However, I didn’t have it in me today to answer any of his calls or texts. Not even one. I was barely holding on today and needed to conserve all my mental and emotional energy.

  He walks my way, meeting me halfway, and opens his arms for me. I don’t even hesitate; I walk straight into them and bury my face in his chest as he closes his arms around me.

  I sob in his embrace in a way I’ve never sobbed with another human being. He smooths my hair and presses a kiss to my head, not uttering a word.

  We stay like this for a long time. I actually reach the point where I don’t want him to let me go, but finally I lift my eyes to his and whisper, “Thank you.”

  He nods. “You ready to go inside?”

  “Yes.”

  “Give me your keys.”

  I hand them over and let him take charge. It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever given that responsibility to someone else.

  Wilder gets me inside, asking if I’ve eaten. After I tell him I haven’t, he heats up the leftover pasta from last night and sits with me in silence while I eat. He then leads me into the bathroom, strips us both of our clothes, and gets in the shower with me. He cleans me while more tears fall. I try to stop them, but he tells me to just let them come. So I do.

  Once we’re showered, he takes me to bed, wrapping me in his arms and pressing more kisses to my head. It’s soothing. Comforting. Everything I would never have known I needed if not for Wilder.

  Skin-to-skin, heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul, we lie together in silence.

  Wilder doesn’t ask me a thing about my day or tell me he’s pissed off that I ignored him.

  He simply gives me something he offered me that night he first stayed with me in the dark.

  He gives me his understanding.

  34

  Scarlett

  “I won’t be in today, so I’m relying on you to take care of everything,” Wilder says to Brody over the phone early Tuesday morning while I eat the bagel he brought home from his bakery run.

  I tune out the rest of their conversation and mentally file through the places I want to visit today when I resume my search for Bailey. Wilder’s coming with me and has made some suggestions for places I didn’t look yesterday. I’m trying to stay hopeful, but my brother doesn’t have a good track record. When he wants to disappear, he’s good at it.

  Wilder ends his call and looks at me. “Still no word from Bailey?”

  “No.”

  “What about your sister? Do you know if she’s heard from him?”

  I slow my thoughts down. I hadn’t contemplated this, but he might be onto something. “Good idea,” I say, picking up my phone and tapping out a message to Phoebe. After I hit Send, I put the phone down and look at him. “Thank you for last night.”

  Wilder held me all night, not letting me leave his arms. The one time I rolled over to face the other side of the bed, he rolled with me. I surprised myself by allowing him to keep hold of me, but the simple truth is I wanted that. I needed it.

  We haven’t spoken about yesterday and the fact I didn’t take his calls or texts. We haven’t even really spoken about Bailey. Wilder woke this morning and announced he was taking the day off to spend with me, and his tone made it clear that while he was open to a discussion on this, his mind was pretty much made up. Again, I surprised myself when I realised I want him with me today and that I’m grateful to have him by my side.

  His eyes search mine for a long moment before he says, “You didn’t get much sleep.”

  Totally not what I expected out of his mouth. And yet, it embodies everything I’ve come to understand about this man. Wilder isn’t one to hold shit against a person. I’m almost certain he won’t hang onto what happened between us yesterday, and I doubt he’ll ever bring it up again. That’s not his style. He’ll simply try to keep helping me and keep caring for me.

  I reach for him, grasping a handful of his shirt and pulling him close. “I know you won’t bring it up, because you’re the very best kind of man, so I will. I’m sorry for the radio silence yesterday. I’m not used to having someone look out for me like that, and to be honest, I couldn’t figure out how to accept your support while also keeping my shit together over Bailey.” I pause while I take in the compassion filling those beautiful eyes of his. I can’t even begin to fathom the feelings that stirs in me because they’re not feelings I’ve experienced before, so I push all those emotions aside to finish getting out the words I need to. “I won’t ever do that to you again.”

  “You don’t need to apologise. I was worried, but the fact is yesterday was about what you were going through and what you needed in order to get through it. Not what I wanted.”

  I let his words settle in deep. I’ve never met a man like him. One who is mature enough to handle a situation like yesterday in this way. And holy fuck if I don’t like it. Like, a lot a lot.

  Also, this causes a whole other cluster of feelings to bombard me that I’m unused to and unsure of what to do with, so I shove them aside too. At the rate I’m going, I’m gonna need a month off to work my way through them all and figure out how to make them fit me.

  A text comes through on my phone and I quickly check it, hoping to actually hear from my sister.

  Harlow: I’m giving you a heads-up because I know you’ll probably appreciate it. You should expect texts from everyone today, checking in on you. I’ve tried to remind them all that you prefer love from a distance, but you know us. We don’t know how to love from a distance. So prepare yourself xx

  Harlow: And I hope you’re okay. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you.

  Me: I’m okay. Wilder’s taking the day off to help me look for Bailey. I’ll keep you updated. And thank you for the heads-up. I do appreciate it.

  Harlow: Is this Scarlett replying? Prove yourself.

  Me: Smartass.

  Harlow: Love you, girl xx

  I find Wilder watching me with soft eyes when I place my phone back on the counter. “What?” I say. He looks like he’s thinking all the thoughts, and I want to know what they are. Jesus, it hits me just how much I want to know everything in his head. I think I need to prove myself to myself at this point.

  “I don’t know who just texted you, but I fuckin’ like the way you smiled while texting them back.” He brushes his lips over mine, slowly, kinda sexy, kinda tender, and adds, “I like seeing that on you, especially today when I know you’re torn up inside.”

  I didn’t even realise I was smiling while texting with Harlow.

  “It was Harlow. Apparently the squad will be out in full force today.”

  He smiles at that and jerks his chin at me. “Right, you need to get dressed so we can get out of here.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  He shakes his head in mock frustration. “I’d fuckin’ like to hear those words at work one day.”

  I quickly shove the rest of my bagel in my mouth and drink my last mouthful of tea. “You’d be bored shitless if I ran around uttering those words. Admit it.”

  Still with the shaking of his head, he says, “I’d like to try it and see.”

  “I can try, but I can’t promise anything. It’ll all depend on which part of the moon cycle we’re in. Those man-periods of yours are something else.”

  He catches my lips in one last long kiss, slaps my ass, and growls, “Go and get dressed, and make fuckin’ sure you use real clothes to do the job.”

  I can’t deny the smile I exit the kitchen wearing. And the fact I’m smiling when I’m anxious and worried over Bailey says a lot. A lot a lot.

  Wilder has worked
his way in deep, and I’m beginning to think my cat lady days are at risk.

  The day passes in a blur. Wilder drives me through what feels like every street Brisbane can lay claim to. He also drives me down to the Gold Coast so we can search there. He tells me about a past girlfriend he had who was an addict. The places he takes me to that I hadn’t already thought of are places she used to frequent. We come across people who know my brother, two of which saw him last night. The relief I feel knowing he was alive last night is indescribable. It’s short-lived, though, because the firsthand knowledge that shit can change fast slams into me at almost the same moment the relief floods me.

  Just after 7:00 p.m., we get in Wilder’s truck, exhausted and out of places to look for Bailey. “What do you want to do now?” he asks, not verbalising what we both know.

  I exhale a long breath and turn to look at the road in front of us. “I want to strangle my brother. I also want to strangle my sister for not replying to my text the one fucking time I actually want her to. And lastly, I want to strangle my mother, but since she’s already dead, I’m shit out of luck there. So probably, I just wanna go home.”

  “What’s the story with your mum, Scar?”

  I continue staring at the road while turning his question over in my head. Talking about my mother isn’t something I do, and while I’m nowhere near ready to give him her full story, I think I need to talk about some of it.

  Wilder waits for me in silence. I like that he’s good with waiting me out. Fuck knows, he’s got a lot of waiting ahead of him if we keep seeing each other.

  Finally, I turn his way. “She died two years ago from an overdose. She’d been in rehab for months and I thought it might be the time she succeeded. Bailey and I were living in Brisbane by then, after leaving Sydney three years earlier, but Phoebe still lived in Sydney. She took the opportunity while Mum was in rehab to sell Mum’s home, without her permission. She—”