Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)

by Elsie Silver

“I hope he has a huge dick. It makes the dumb shit men do a lot more forgivable.”

Call it the wine. Call it the good vibes. Call it the shared insanity that we both signed up for today, but I let my hand slip lower.

I stay looking out over the room full of people, hand down my wife’s dress, doing my best to appear casual as I respond. “Kill you or fuck you, Tabby?” My voice drops lower. “Oh, I’ve decided.” “Fuck,” she mutters, teeth strumming her bottom lip as she glances away. “Yep. That’s the one.”

“Friendly reminder that this marriage is fake,” she mutters, focusing just a little too hard on the table where our friends sit. “Nothing fake about how wet you are right now.”

“Is getting married as exhausting as it looks?” I snort and roll my head along the back of the couch to look at the teenager. “Girl. Have you met men? Everything about them is exhausting.”

It’s watching him move that has me tilting my head. It’s the way his fingers curl into fists at his sides, the thumbs swiping over his index finger. It’s the way he walks that has my breath freezing in my lungs. The raw power he exudes, the way he holds himself like a king, commanding the thousands of people in that arena to acknowledge him, follow him. It’s the detailed black tattoos that swirl on his right arm that give him away. Heat suffuses my body. I may barely know the man, and I may have never watched wrestling before, but I identify him instantly.

Those shapely lips quirk up in a cocky smirk, and his tongue presses into the side of his stubbled cheek. He oozes an unbearable amount of confidence. It does funny things to my ovaries.

The harsh lines of his face, that pronounced brow. He does look like he could kill me or fuck me. And with a face like his, I’d say thank you either way. Thank you, sir. Will you please twist my panties and whisper something dirty in my ear one last time before I go?

“You don’t leave for weeks at a time to fuck people. You leave for weeks at a time to fuck people up.” His tongue pops into the side of his cheek, and that seals the deal for me. It’s him. “Tabitha…” My lips curve up. “Am I Mrs. Wild Side?”

Okay, I’m not Rhys’s biggest fan, but I’m stuck with him for better or for worse, and that has me feeling a little territorial. At this moment, I decide that I am the only person allowed to mock him.

I actually laugh. This big, tough, emotions-locked-up-tight man for whom I adopted a cat solely to piss off is now worried about her coping while he’s gone.

I don’t think there’s anything I could do that would make her abandon me. And that knowledge is both reassuring and… infuriating? I don’t know if I deserve that kind of dedication. She’s just so damn good—so reliable—that I almost feel small next to her, even when she’s helping me. It’s that I look even worse in her shadow.

It’s fucking freezing, but I barely feel it. All I can think about is Tabitha and how I’d give anything for her to let me comfort her right now. Hell, I’d kill just for her to talk to me right now. I’ve spent a lifetime thinking I don’t like talking. It turns out I just needed the right person to talk to.

“I wish you weren’t seeing me like this.” My brow furrows. “Like what?” “At my worst.” I tip my head toward her. “Then it’s all uphill from here, baby. It’s going to make seeing you at your best so damn special.”

“You’ve got the self-control of a gnat, Dupris,” I mutter to myself as I bend to lift our soaked clothes from the floor.

I felt my hold on my idealized version of Erika slip through my fingers as I cried in Rhys’s arms. I’d been so keen to grip it hard, to make her story into something more palatable than it was. Did she hurt people? Or was she wonderful? I’d realized she could be both things at once and that my memories of her didn’t have to be all sunshine and rainbows for me to still love her.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Maybe not, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling like I’ve been too damn hard on him for no good reason. Like we’ve been holding ourselves back. And right now, I can’t think of a single reason to hold back anymore. Sure, he could hurt me. But after everything, something tells me Rhys would do anything in his power to keep me from feeling any pain. It’s a heady realization. To trust someone like that.

“Please.” “Jesus, Tabby. Are you begging?” “Please,” I repeat with a desperate little moan, dusting my lips over his stubbled cheek. “Because you don’t need to,” he says. Then he seals his mouth over mine and crushes me against him, giving me everything I wanted in one harsh exhale.

his hands grip me like I’m integral to him in some way.

“Tabby.” Fuck, I love the sound of my name on his lips. Full of hunger and desperation, like he’s been waiting for me to catch up and stop pushing him away. He’s wanted me and let me loathe him anyway. How fucking selfless. How fucking stupid.

“Rhys, never hide shit from me again. No secrets. I hate it.” I don’t know what I even mean by that. It sounds permanent, and I have no idea where we stand. All I know is that I want him. God, I want him so badly. And now there’s nothing stopping me from having him.

Baby. My head tips back as I revel in all the sensations of him. The term of endearment. So much has hurt lately, but everything with Rhys feels warm and safe and delicious. Everything with Rhys feels so right.

Every movement feels desperate, but there’s nothing rushed or fumbled about the way Rhys handles me. He savors me. Every inch, every second. His eyes trace the curves of my body as though he’s memorizing each angle. I fucking love the way he looks at me.

My gaze trails over his face. Lips parted, dark lashes dropped low. He’s fucking beautiful. And infuriating. And mine.

No wonder it was so hard to hate him. Especially now, looking so undone, so vulnerable—all for me. It’s like my body knew all along and was just waiting for my mind to catch up.

I’m not sure I’ve ever opened my eyes and felt so instantly happy. So at home. Like I could just lie here all day soaking it up.

Does love start off as obsession? Because that’s what I am. Obsessed with my wife.

“Are you petting me, Dupris?” There’s humor in her voice, and my lips quirk up at the tone. “Are you purring, Tabitha?” She laughs, and I can feel her wide smile against my side. “Maybe. It feels nice. No wonder Cleo loves you so much. You pet a girl like that, and she can’t help but fall.” My heart stutters, but she doesn’t seem to notice. No, the mention of love doesn’t terrify Tabitha in the least. It comes so naturally to her. It’s what captured my attention about her in the first place.

And I find myself obsessing over his nearness and what it all means—where it all goes. It’s like we’ve had the rug pulled out from under us and are both surprised that we like the floor beneath. Or maybe that’s just me. The girl who feels sad watching Rhys retreat to the basement to change rather than up to the room where I stay.

“You crack me up. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to say the things in my head so freely, without agonizing over every word or second-guessing every sentiment before I say it.”

She’s like… painfully bright and happy sometimes. It makes me wonder what that must be like. As a woman of many constantly changing moods, she seems like some sort of unicorn.

“What’s the sacral chakra?” I whisper-shout to his back. “According to Gwen, it’s the energy center responsible for emotional well-being and sexuality. Apparently, mine was blocked.” I snort as I toe off my boots. “Don’t say I never did anything nice for you.”

His lips are upturned, and when he finally looks my way, he winks. My jaw drops a bit, and I stare at him, slightly taken aback by his playfulness. A side of him I didn’t see coming. Maybe that chakra shit is real, and I healed him with the magic of my pussy. “Babe, you okay?” he asks, all innocent, pulling out those acting skills he hides away. “You’re staring.”

I’m still in shock that he said it out loud when West adds, “What’s your wrestler name? I’m going to watch now. Cora, you watch, right?” One glance at Ford, and I see him zeroed in on the couch behind us. Rhys turns to look—just in time for Cora to turn the color of the world’s ripest cherry. She stares at Rhys, her gaze dropping to the sleeve of black tattoos that scroll up one arm. Then she mutters, “Fuck my life,” and leaves the living room without looking up from the floor. “Is she okay?” Rhys sounds genuinely concerned.

“I’m a cat dad. And I was friends with Erika, so I’ve done my best to fill that role for Milo. Like where I can. I love him like he’s my own. Even though I know it’s not the same⁠—” “Nah.” West waves him off. “Don’t qualify that. Parenthood isn’t black and white. It sneaks up on us where we least expect it. If it walks like a duck and all that.”

I tip my head back now, struggling to find the words. Communication and relationships are not my strong suit, but for Tabitha, I want to be better. No secrets.

“I guess what we’re doing is being married.” “For how long?” “I don’t know that people usually plan that type of thing.” I swallow. “Right. But this marriage… it’s fake.” Her head tilts as she regards me with a tight smile and narrowed gaze. “That’s funny. It doesn’t feel very fake to me.” Air rushes from my lungs. It’s like I didn’t even realize how badly I needed to hear that from her. But there’s an echo of hurt in her eyes that makes me feel guilty for calling this thing between us fake. Because I know better. So I face her head-on and tell her the secret I’ve been keeping for weeks now. “It doesn’t feel very fake to me either.”

Tabby: Listen, I appreciate you worrying about us, but we’ll be fine. This is about you. Your privacy. Your identity. Your career. If you want to do this, then do it. But do it on your terms. Don’t let that asshole control you. You can take that mask off AND fuck Anthony at the same time. Rhys: I do not enjoy that mental image. Tabby: YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

This was his idea, or at least I think that’s what he meant when earlier in our showdown, he whispered, “Daddy, put me through the table. They’ll love it. Let’s bring it home.” I’d put him through the table for calling me “Daddy” alone. Goofy little fucker that he is.

“Maybe you need a snack?” God, she’s not deterred at all. She just keeps pushing back, and I fucking love it. “Tabitha, what the fuck does it look like I’m trying to do? Now quit running your mouth, and get on your back.”

“I might be in love with you.” I can hear the smile in her voice when she responds. “Oh wow. You might be? How special. Let me know when you decide.” That smart fucking mouth. I smile against her skin, letting a warm wash of adoration blanket me. “No, not might be. I am. I have been for a while now.” Tabitha sighs contentedly. “That’s good. Because I’ve been in love with you for a while now too.”

She loves me. It feels like a piece of my puzzle finally slips into place, the satisfaction of completion making me feel more whole than I could have imagined.

Will crawls away and grips the divider, slumping over it right in front of me. “Oh my god,” he huffs. At first, I’m concerned that he’s injured, but then he peeks up at me. “Rhys told me you hate me.” His words are hushed, but I hear them all the same. He takes a break, dramatically resting his forehead on the black padded wall, thumping his fist like he’s working through the pain before gritting out, “Still nice to meet you.”

“Did I say you could talk to my wife?”

I blast into the hospital with Ford hot on my heels. He might be the least annoying moral support I’ve ever received. He’s just there. Getting shit done. Not asking me about my feelings. He got us a retired pilot he uses who lives in Rose Hill. He booked us a car on the landing side. He called ahead to the hospital to make sure Rhys was in the best room money could buy. One day, I’ll weep over his steady, supportive brand of kindness. But right now, I just feed off of his big-swinging-dick energy and cool, collected demeanor. He makes it easy to hold it together.

“There is something very vulnerable about being stuck in a hospital bed. Makes people do and say things they usually might not. I see it all the time.” “What about people who aren’t in the hospital bed who desperately want to bludgeon their husband for being stupid and stubborn as hell? Is that something you see very often?” She chuckles. “Actually, it is.” I nod quickly and glance away, feeling mildly embarrassed as I reach up to swipe a tear from my cheek. “Perfect, I’ll have company in prison.” “Well, if you need an alibi, you just let me know.” The woman winks at me, and it reminds me of Rhys.

“And when you’re done stewing in whatever feelings you’re feeling right now, I will be there. Just like you were there for me. This is who we are now.” Her eyes are so fierce, she pierces me with them. “This is what you do when you love somebody. And I have every intention of loving you just as thoroughly as I know you love me. You just have to let me.”

“Because even at your worst, I still love you, Rhys. Just try not to be an asshole when I get back, ’kay? Because I am coming back, and this tantrum is annoying.”

I almost laugh. It’s so her to be both furious with me and supportive in the same breath.

She refuses to leave the hospital, and our next disagreement is about her sleeping slumped in a chair. I don’t like it, and she doesn’t give a flying fuck.