Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

If I had to use one word to describe him, it would be masculine. From head to toe. Chunky black leather boots, no-nonsense Levi’s, and a soft, boxy flannel shirt give him a total lumberjack vibe. A grumpy lumberjack.

“So you’re like a hero hero,” I say, leaning back in my chair to get a better view of the man before me. Poor guy looks uncomfortable with the praise. I bet he doesn’t see himself that way at all. He’s all gruff and matter-of-fact. I bet he’s about to say that he’s just “doing his job.” “That’s the tequila making you exaggerate.” I scoff. “Okay, Top Gun. I’m sure someone whose home was saved by your perfect aim and huge set of brass balls would describe your contribution as ‘exaggerated.’”

“Nope. Sorry, that’s first-date information.” He blinks. And blinks again. He looks so floored by what I’ve just said, I can’t keep myself from smiling. I’m about to turn from him, ready to face the walkway, but his words bring me up short. “What are we calling tonight, then?” Blood rushes in my ears. I expected him to grumble and balk at my teasing, but here he is, arms crossed, stance wide, calling me out. I can hear the threads of hope in his voice, which brings heat to my cheeks. “Oh, tonight? Tonight is just our meet-cute. It’s the night we’ll tell our kids about one day. Remember?”

And I tell myself it’s just goodbye for now and not forever. Because the world works in mysterious ways, and it would never squander a meet-cute like ours.

West: When are you back? We suck at bowling without you. We need our daddy back.

To the outside observer, it would appear that I’m staring at the guy I showed up here with. But they would be wrong. I’m staring at his dad.

“Easy, girl. Don’t eat too much.” Easy, girl? I pause, my brows furrowing as I stare down at the two bite-size pieces of food on the napkin in my hand, wondering if I misheard my “boyfriend.” Did he really just tell me not to eat too much? “The fuck did you just say to her?” Bash’s voice is cold as ice from across the table.

Instead, without another word, he turns, yanks the door open, and storms out. I stand there, frozen—shaken. And that feeling is only made worse when, several seconds later, I hear a loud, “Fuck!” followed by what sounds an awful lot like a fist going through a wall.

why do i love it

I’ve grown attached to the ornery old git. “What are you waiting for? Me to die while you stare at me?” He crosses his arms and shoots me a petulant glare from beneath his trucker hat. I just sigh. Anyone who thinks I’m hard to handle should try helping Clyde. “I’m waiting for you to put your seat belt on.” “Pfft. I don’t need a seat belt. I grew up in cars that didn’t even have ’em. And look at me.” He holds his arms out wide. “I turned out fine.”

Sorry, I’ve been obsessing over your girlfriend for months, blew my shot because, in the fog of pulling an all-nighter, I missed one fucking number, and now I’ll never have her.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m going to anyway. So listen up. Just because you got horny at fifteen and that kid has half your DNA, it doesn’t mean you need to let him treat you like shit while you constantly beat yourself up over his existence. And for what it’s worth, when doomsday hits, he’s not invited to my bunker. But you are.”

Love this man already

“I’m a big girl. With a big truck. And above-average driving skills. You can take your bad energy elsewhere, Bash.”

“Clyde, for fuck’s sake, I’m trying to give you an organ, and you’re sitting here shit-talking me to my face.” He smacks his lips. “Someone’s gotta do it. You’re more depressing than I am, even though I’m the one who’s dying. Surprised you’re not offering me both kidneys with how goddamn emo you’ve been lately.”

“Gwen, if you get all sappy on me, I’m leaving. All this universe and energy yoga shit is already toeing the line for me.”

What can I say? I’m a sensitive gal. I’ve always felt things just a little more deeply.

West strides out of his kitchen with a shit-eating grin on his face and a kidney-shaped cake in his hands.

My king

“Bash, congratulations on finally finding your perfect match,” he announces to the dining room full of our friends. “None of us expected it to be Clyde, but sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants. And I, for one, could not be happier for you. Or him.”

I shake my head and look back toward West, who is watching me, eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. “So? Do you like it?” I roll my lips together, trying to keep from laughing. “You’re an idiot, Weston.” He brightens further. “Calling me an idiot is your love language, so I will take it. I love you too, man. Stay safe tomorrow.” Then, glancing around the table, he lifts his champagne glass and waits for everyone to follow suit. “Here’s to Bash and his kidney,” he says as everyone raises their glasses. “You just might be the most thoughtful asshole I know. Cheers, to you and that big soft black heart of yours! And to Crazy Clyde!”

everyone else is huddled in the living room playing an old game of Operation that West dug out of his crawl space “special for this party.”

The way i love this man

All I know is that the first thing that comes to mind is, If I live, I’m coming after you.

“These fuckin’ clowns don’t know shit. Did you know they had to write on me with a Sharpie saying which side the kidney needed to go in on? A big X to mark the spot.” He shakes his head as he crosses his arms, disappointment dripping from every motion. “Over a decade of schooling, and these kids don’t even know right from left.”

“Almost as impressive as the depth of my daddy issues and the uniform kink my upbringing sent me out into the world with.”

“It’s a miracle I’ve survived this many days post-surgery without someone propping me up with every pillow in this house.” I turn back slowly to face Bash, who clearly just can’t help himself. “Do you want me to come upstairs and get you settled as well? If you keep this attitude up, I can hold a pillow down over your face to make it stop.” Bash swallows roughly while continuing to glare at me but says nothing. “Careful,” Clyde interjects with a raspy cackle, “some people are into that kind of shit.”

“When I built this place, I thought I’d have kids.” I swallow and nod softly. “The room you’re staying in was supposed to be the perfect kid’s room. The bench. The window. I figured by a certain age, they’d want to use the balcony too. But then I worried that when they were small, it might be a safety issue. So I put a dead bolt on the outside so my wife or I could⁠—” He trips over his own words, stopping midsentence with an irritated twist of his lips before forging ahead. “Whatever. I just figured I could lock it from the outside, then head back into my room from the shared balcony and not have to worry about a curious toddler wandering out.”

West just laughs. He’s impossible to piss off. “Man, you’re even more miserable than usual. Were all your good moods in the kidney that you gave away? Are you stuck with the bitchy kidney?”

“You know what’s complicated?” Tabby’s head rolls toward me. “Life. Life is complicated. And short. Gwen, life is too damn short not to wade through all the complications. And you guys are too hot not to bang. I’ve seen the fuck-me eyes you give each other.”

“I’m only regular drunk. Not hammered.”

“The thing is, Gwen, next time you want to watch me, you should just ask.”

“Or what? You might man up and take something for yourself for once?” I snap. I take something for myself for once.

“Fuck it,” I mutter. Then I kiss her.

“Fucking look at you,” he says, his breathing labored. “Fucking perfect. And so fucking off-limits.”

“That he was a fool to let you get away. But that it was just as well because I could fuck you better.”

“Listening to him talk about you made me want to come home and take you just to prove to myself that I could. Does that make me jealous, Gwen?” My heart hammers against my ribs, and I lick my lips, meeting his wild gaze. “I think it does.” His hand slides up my side, palming every curve before slipping to the back of my head and fisting my hair. “And what the hell am I supposed to do about that, huh?”

he’s learned the hard way that people use him as a stepping stone to the life they really want. He expects to be left behind.”

“You got this,” I say softly, not sure what’s wrong, only knowing that I would do anything to make him feel better. “I don’t know if I do,” he says back, voice rough like gravel. It makes my chest ache. “I’ve got you, then,” I murmur,

This big strong man who shows up for everyone around him, who always does the right thing, looks beaten down, and I can’t handle it.

“If I were you, I don’t think I’d be okay. You need to take care of yourself, not just everyone else. Or it will come back to haunt you.”

Promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t end up like her.” “You won’t,” he murmurs in confirmation, sounding sleepy and relaxed. I smile down over him, the satisfaction that comes with helping people all warm and gooey in my chest. “I won’t let you,” Bash mumbles sleepily.

It makes me wish we could have woken up together. Left the curtains open, so I could lie in bed and watch the morning sun dance across her upturned nose, watch its rays highlight the tops of her full cheeks. She’d be warm and soft, and she’d smell like lavender. I’d pull her closer and stare at her for so long that when I closed my eyes, the shape of her would be burned on the back of my lids.

It’s the simple things. It’s building a life with someone.

“Sunning his perineum?” Gwen snorts an unladylike laugh, her shoulders shaking with the effort of restraining herself. “That’s what he called it. In my head, I’ve been calling it tanning his taint.”

Gwen spends the rest of the day at the studio teaching. Which is fine, because I spend the rest of the day rushing around planning a birthday party for her.

“It seems as though in your mission to be Mr. Good-Guy Hero Man, you’ve plunked yourself squarely into the friend zone.” “I have not. We’re just… We’re being mature. It’s complicated.” Clyde scoffs. “It’s not complicated. You look at her like she hung the moon, and she’s the only woman in the world who finds your shitty attitude to be endearing.”

She’s fucking breathtaking. And the fact that she didn’t roll out of my bed is downright criminal.

I nod and round the island toward her, coffee cup outstretched in her direction. “You’re welcome. Take a seat. Tell me what you want, and I’ll serve it up.” With a soft smile, she wraps her palms around the coffee cup and makes her way to one of the stools at the island’s counter, gazing over the options. “Honestly, I kind of want some of everything? It looks amazing.” She sounds bashful admitting she wants it all, whereas I’m just thrilled she doesn’t hate what I made. “Coming right up. What my girl wants, she gets.”

Eeeeee

Truthfully, I couldn’t be less worried. Bash might be the most capable man on the planet—flying planes, building stuff, making breakfast, kissing like it’s an art form. There’s no way this man is crashing his plane.

He catches me staring at his mouth, his gaze dropping to mine for only a beat. “Head out of the gutter, Dawson. I’m telling you some of the emergency protocols.”

“My head’s been in the gutter since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

“Ah!” I squeal, breathless with laughter as I clap enthusiastically. “Look at you go!” Bash laughs now, the deep sound vibrating through my headset. “Gwen, this is my job. It would be like me clapping when you roll out a yoga mat. Even though when I see that ass in leggings, it makes me want to.”

With flushed cheeks and bright eyes, she fucking glows. And to think I had even a small part in making her look like this is the most satisfying thing in the world.