Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

It’s been a crappy week, and this is just the bread that makes the whole thing a shit sandwich.

Tonight is just our meet-cute. It’s the night we’ll tell our kids about one day. Remember?”

This always happens to me. I meet someone who seems great, and then they slowly start to annoy me. They get attached more quickly than I do, and I end up feeling locked in, tied down, stuck.

But for me? That night? Something happened. I can’t put my finger on it, and god knows I’ve spent many a late night staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out why I haven’t been able to shake his memory. Maybe it was the way he looked at me or the way he listened to me. Hell, it could have been the way we laughed together. Or maybe it was the spark I felt when his hand enveloped mine. I’ve wondered if it was one of those moments in the universe where all the stars align—where every little choice made in life led us to that airport on that exact night.

Maybe it was just a little bit of magic. Inexplicable and undeniable all at once.

“The fuck did you just say to her?” Bash’s voice is cold as ice from across the table.

It’s like I’m dating Dr. Jekyll—and Mr. Hyde has just come out to play.

“I never got your messages, and if I had…” I swallow, trailing off and licking my lips. “I…” A frustrated groan lurches from my throat when I see the devastation etched on this man’s face as he looks beyond me, staring blankly at the perfectly white wall. He’s gutted. I see it on his face. I feel it in his body. Hell, I can feel it in my own. This is a cruel, cruel joke. Because I may not know him well, but I ache for him all the same. I would have chosen him.

It kills me that he won’t make eye contact. I feel like I’m silently begging him to just look at me. To see the way I look at him. To talk.

‘If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad.’” I sigh and drop my head to my palm. It’s not worth telling him that’s a Sheryl Crow song.

It’s been a year, and try as I might, I can’t shake her. Or what could have been.

“Bash, congratulations on finally finding your perfect match,”

It threw me for a fucking loop. I hated it, but a part of me loved it too. Because for a moment, it felt like someone in the world really saw me—and liked what they saw.

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

Why did I automatically assume I wasn’t good enough for him to stay interested?

It feels like I’m walking to the gallows because living under the same roof as Gwen Dawson is sure to be the death of me.

“He reminds me of Oscar the Grouch sometimes.”

my dreams aren’t meant to come true.

me. And all I’ve done is spend years licking my wounds, wishing for something I’ll never have. Too scared to even try.”

“Turns out it’s not that easy to find a person you actually connect with.”

We connected. We had that spark. The one you can’t force. The kind that sneaks up on you when you least expect it. And the worst part is, we both know it.

Who knows where it could have gone? It could have been nowhere at all, but I still feel the loss of that possibility.

The entire mess feels monumentally unfair. Because I like Bash. I really like Bash. Unfortunately for me, I like Bash enough to keep my distance. It shouldn’t be too hard. I was never planning to stay anyway.

she dated Tripp. That’s a line you just don’t cross. Even if I saw her first.” If I had known. I ended it on the spot. I tried to find you.

“Complicated is just an excuse. Ask me how I know. Rhys and I were complicated once.”

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

All I can think about is…how good they’d be together. Not as good as she and I would be.

“Bash, whatever we’re doing, it’s not yoga. I don’t owe you anything. And if you thought being in touch with my mind and body means I have to be

a soft-spoken pushover just to accommodate your shit moods, then you thought wrong.”

“I’ve already lived in the type of household where it was preferable for me to be seen but not heard, and I’m not signing up for that again. So get your shit together and let me have a moment to myself. Maybe you should go take one for yourself too. The sand is that way.”

“So now you’ll just mope around feeling sorry for yourself because the timing is all fucked up and you feel like you owe him something you don’t.”

“Careful, Gwen.”

“Or what? You might man up and take something for yourself for once?” I snap. I take something for myself for once. My hands dart out and grip Gwen’s waist. “You know what?” I snarl, yanking her toward me, staring at her plush mouth as her lips softly part—no doubt to say something infuriating. But I don’t let her get a word in edgewise.

“Fuck it,” I mutter. Then I kiss her.

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

Beneath that stony exterior, he has the biggest heart. It’s one thing I’ve come to love about him.

It hurts my heart that he reads everything as rejection. It’s written all over him. “Bash…”

“I was going to say that I don’t want to be the thing that damns you. It’s not fair.”

I spent half the night figuring out whether I turned him away for some deeper reason. Of course, the constant worry that I’m not good enough sat on my shoulder in the dark, sabotaging me as always. But more than that, I realized that if it had been any other man, I wouldn’t have retreated at all. The difference is, I like Bash—I really like Bash. And I don’t want to damn him with my carelessness. Deep down I know this isn’t some meaningless fling.

It scares me. And the thought of losing him scares me too.

chance to talk. I don’t even know how long he’ll be gone for. Suddenly, him leaving to fly a plane into a fire feels monumentally dangerous. Suddenly, I miss him. Suddenly, I regret accepting that job offer.

Strangely, this place that isn’t mine at all has started to feel like home. “Now with Tripp and just everything… I don’t know, Clyde. I think that ship might have sailed. I don’t want to make an issue out of it. It feels like the universe is pitted against us⁠—” He scoffs. “Quitter talk. The universe isn’t stopping either of you from doing anything.”

All the best things in life are complicated.”

“Gwen, listen. I’ve known him for years now, and he might be one of the best people I know. Prickly and ornery and set in his ways, but good. He’s been hurt. He’s been told a few too many times that he isn’t good enough. Between his ex-wife and Tripp’s mom, 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.”

“And those are tough wounds to heal. Especially for a man so paralyzed by all his own regrets. He’s stuck. I see it, and I bet if you looked hard enough, you’d see it too. But when he met you? You shook him up. It changed something. It changed him. And I reckon that if you have the fortitude to keep at him, he might just soften up for you. It won’t be easy. But nothing worth having ever comes easy.”

“But, Gwen, if you aren’t serious about the guy, you should leave sooner rather than later. Find that next gig. Keep chasing those dreams. Because this is harder on him than he’ll ever let on.”

Am I serious about him?

Gwen: How long do you think you’ll be gone? Bash: Hard to say. Why? Does Clyde miss me? Gwen: No. I do.

I’ve decided to be patient. Wait for someone better.

“I don’t want you to leave, Gwen,”