Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

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

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.

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

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.

Tears for me. Happy tears. 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. When Gwen looked at me today, I hadn’t felt like a second choice.

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

My gaze snags on the front of his sweatpants as he props his hands on his hips and talks. The gray sweats. The ones that leave almost nothing to the imagination.

Because Gwen isn’t just hot as fuck. She’s kind. And fun. And thoughtful. And flexible. How do I know? Because I found her social media channels. I couldn’t keep myself from looking at her when I woke up from surgery. Alive. Just like she reassured me I would be. And honestly, it’s fucking embarrassing.

She doesn’t even look my way as she muses, “Goddamn, you must be good with your hands.” We freeze in time, and I watch pink splotches pop up on her round cheeks as she slowly turns her head in my direction. Fuck, she’s so pretty, I can’t even stand it. Eyes wide and pleading, she adds, “I mean, you must be handy.” “I’m both.”

Without thinking, I step close, my bare toes butting against hers as I reach forward and gently grip her chin. “Careful what you wish for, Gwen. I’ve got a laundry list of ways I’d like to watch you work for it, and none of them involve poker.” “Fuck,” she whispers,

“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. 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.”

It’s not even the sex I miss. It’s companionship. The comfort of knowing that if I’m sick, someone will be there to help. That when I get home from working a brutal wildfire, I won’t have to sit with it alone. That at the end of the day, I’ll have someone to hold for the night, letting my breathing fall in time with theirs. It’s the simple things. It’s building a life with someone. I’d settle for just that. But it can’t be just someone. I think deep down I want it to be the one. I’ve been hurt too badly for it not to be.

I blink, not wanting to interrupt him. Even though I want to tell him how hot it is to hear him apologize. Too many people walk around never reflecting on their actions, never owning them, never admitting when they’re wrong.

“Coming right up. What my girl wants, she gets.” The term slips so easily from my tongue that I don’t even have the time to prevent it.

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 stomach flips. He scolds me with such endearment. I haven’t caught a single word of his spiel. “Sorry, concentrating is hard right now. Have you heard of competence porn? It’s kind of my thing. And you, Bash, are extremely competent.” He shakes his head, amusement curving his lips as his hands work to restrain me securely. “Just trying to keep you safe.”

“What are you doing?” she says in a low voice, the soft, minty puff of every word brushing against my cheek. I turn my face up to hers while my heart clashes against the cage of my ribs. I drink her in. Pert lips. Wide eyes. Full cheeks. Fucking perfect from head to toe. “What I should have done months ago” is all I say. Then I grip the back of her neck, drag her mouth to mine, and kiss her.

Because I’ll never forgive myself if I let you get away again.”

“You gonna be a mouthy, little tease about this, Gwen?” She cries out, her pussy clenching around my digits. “You wanna play that game?” She bites down on her bottom lip. “Yeah, I do.”

“I love you like this.” “Like what?” she murmurs, entranced. “All mine.” Our eyes meet in the dim cockpit. “I am.” And fuck, it’s music to my ears. “Mine,” I repeat, increasing the speed of my shallow thrusts. “All yours,” she whispers, pulling me in for another kiss, clenching and releasing my girth as she does.

The only thing that matters is that you’re here with me now. We made it back to each other. And as hard as it’s going to be, we’re going to make this thing work. We’re going to give this thing a go. I’m going to tell him. I just—not yet. Not tonight.”

“Gwen, how am I supposed to trust you to name our first child if you can’t even give this raccoon a respectable name?”

“Deep down, I was prepared for this. For telling him. Maybe not like this—god, never like this—but I’ve known it was coming and that it wouldn’t be pretty. There was just no way around hurting him.” I pull away, cradling her face gently in my hands as I crouch slightly to look her in the eye. “Because what I keep coming back to is this: I can’t live without you.”

“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.”

“You’re my limes, Bash. I’m the tequila. You and me? We’re gonna spend the rest of our lives making margaritas, okay?”