Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

When life gives you lemons…” It squeezes the acid right in your fucking eyes.

Don’t live life with regrets, Sebastian.”

She doesn’t give a fuck what I think. Nor should she. And I admire that about her.

“Aren’t you tired?” he asks, not dropping my hand this time. “Sure.” I shrug. “But tired is kind of relative. I have been more tired. And there are worse things to be than tired. I’ll let my body rest tomorrow. Tonight, we make memories.”

Yes, Clyde pays me for my time, but if he stopped, I’d continue to show up. Hell, I’ve even offered to do it for free, which, in hindsight, I think offended him. He’d hobbled away and come back with a handful of cash, shoving it at me brusquely. Then he looked me straight in the eye and told me to never work for free. To never sell myself short or question my value.

“Oh, good. You two have kissed and made up,” Clyde rasps as he hobbles down the hallway.

In all reality, any of us could die at any moment. Nothing is ever promised.” I nod at that. It’s true. I’ve seen the fury of a wildfire turn people’s lives upside down, destroy towns, decimate nature. And no one could have seen it coming. “But, Bash, what if you live?”

I can’t change the past. I can only control my own feelings, and unfortunately for me, those haven’t changed either.

I think being nice has more to do with behaving in a way that’s driven by social expectations. Whereas being kind is behaving in a way that’s driven by a concern for other people’s well-being. And the two are not necessarily mutually exclusive. I’d be rather wary of someone who is nice but not kind.”

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.

“Careful, Gwen.” She chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. And she doesn’t back down. Instead, her lips move closer to the shell of my ear. “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.

All I can think is that Bash has left. We never got a 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. And even though he’s not here to hear it, I look Tripp in the eye and tell him bluntly, “I think it’s better if we don’t.”

All the best things in life are complicated.”

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

“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 laugh until my cheeks hurt. I laugh until my throat feels hoarse. I laugh until my stomach cramps. I have fun. And god, it’s one of the best afternoons of my life.

I’m standing there making “googly eyes” at her, as Clyde had called it, when he appears in the doorway. He takes one look at the food laid out and then pulls up a seat beside Gwen. “I wish Bash were in love with me. Then maybe he’d make me nice breakfasts too.” I spray my mouthful of coffee into my hand right as Gwen barks out a shocked laugh and thumps a flattened palm on her chest.

“Wow,” I sigh. Because no other word seems to do this view justice. “This is beautiful.” “Yeah. It is,” Bash agrees. But when I turn back to face him, he’s not looking out the window. He’s looking at me.

“I highly doubt he wants to talk to me.” “No. Because we hurt him! But he’s your son, so you try anyway!

“The end of what, Bash? We’re just getting started. You can’t get rid of me that easily. The problem is we can’t start off properly without you addressing these issues. You can’t just sulk and play the victim every time the going gets tough. You need to own your shit. We both know what we have is real. This is it for me and nothing is going to change that. But you still need to reach out to your son and make amends with him. We hurt him, and yes, it needed to be done, but that was a god-awful way to find out. So rather than acting like he wronged you, put your heart in your hand and go talk to him.”

“You’re a fucking wild card. Unpredictable and never what I expect. You scare the hell out of me every damn day. But today more than any of them. Because I thought I lost you.” His voice cracks. So does my heart. “And I love you, and I hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell you.”

I breathe him in. I breathe my anxiety out. I breathe him in. I breathe my doubt out. I breathe him in. I breathe my fears out. Because with Bash at my side, nothing feels as terrifying. “I’m never going to run again, okay?” I say, hoping he understands what I mean. I feel his head nod against the tops of my thighs. “Good, because I’m never letting you go.”