Wilde by Abby Brooks

Chapter Twenty-Three

Leo

I watch Amy’s chest rise and fall as she sleeps peacefully in the seat beside me. The plane lifts off and a smile quirks my lips. How in the world did she fall asleep so quickly? Well, the after-party did run late. And the after after-party ran kind of early. By the time we got back to the hotel, there were hints of morning in the distance. Maybe it’s a wonder she made it this far. Guess I’ve done this long enough to become immune.

I shift in my seat, trying to get comfortable. I’m too amped for sleep. My mind keeps spinning back through our last twenty-four hours together. Fooling around on the airplane. Amazing hotel sex. A misunderstanding over my drawing—talk about awkward. I can’t believe Amy thought I drew her, and I felt so bad when I blurted out the truth.

I roll my eyes. As if I wouldn’t know when I’d drawn someone.

The memory of how excited she was at each stop on our tour of Nashville has me shaking my head and smiling even bigger. There’s no denying the way she makes me feel when we’re together. For the first time in my life, I might be content.

Fucking content.

I think, after this trip, I’m going to call Matix and tell him I’m not moving to LA.

I can’t leave Amy and I don’t want to be the kind of dad who sends money and presents to his kid. I want to be the kid of dad who’s present for his kid. So I’ll stay in Colorado, doing what I’ve been doing so I can be around to watch my child grow. To continue falling in love with my Skipster. To maybe have an actual family of my own.

Amy never makes me feel judged, or like I have to prove myself. She doesn’t lie or keep secrets. It’s like someone finally gets me. Without my needing to explain. Definitely the first time in my life I’ve ever felt so relaxed around another person.

So why did I spend all night questioning whether something is off between us?

It’s a rhetorical question. I already know the answer. My radar’s been flashing red ever since she received that text at the hotel. She tried to brush it off like no big deal, but the look on her face said something else entirely. I keep reminding myself not to be like every asshole I’ve ever locked horns with and go jumping to conclusions. Amy’s different. She’s not like everyone else. And yet I keep circling back to it.

“Just a reminder of something I need to take care of when we get back.”

Who was that text from? Her dad? Why wouldn’t she just say that?

I close my eyes and recline my seat.

Maybe sleep isn’t such a bad idea.

* * *

Half a block from Amy’s house, it all goes to shit. Pushing through a heavy yawn, I don’t notice anything wrong until after she groans and starts muttering excuses. That’s when I see the preppy prick leaning against the strange car parked in her driveway.

Wouldn’t you fucking know?

We pull to a stop in front of the house, but nothing happens. Amy doesn’t move. Not even to unbuckle her seatbelt. Avery doesn’t flex a muscle, just keeps a keen eye on us from the safety of the driveway.

My blood boils and I clamp my jaw shut to keep from jumping to conclusions.

After what feels like an eternity, Amy turns to me. “Leo, I can explain.”

Her voice quakes and I swallow fire rather than unleash it on her.

As if on cue, Avery chooses the same moment to grow a pair and knock on Jezebel’s passenger window.

“What’s to explain?” I kill the engine without meeting her gaze. “Looks to me like a straightforward case of having something you need to take care of now that we’re back.”

She flinches and reaches for me but I move my hand off the shifter. “Look at me, Leo. Please.”

I can’t. Not feeling the way I’m feeling. And definitely not with him standing on the other side of the window.

Avery opens the passenger door and grabs Amy by the shoulder. “Would you stop ignoring me?” The prick leans in, wrestling with her seatbelt as he attempts to extricate her from the vehicle.

She yelps in pain and I’m out of my seat, crossing the front of the car without thinking. Untiltwo minutes ago I thought this guy was out of the picture. Now he’s not only back, but he’s trying to assault the woman I want to ask to be my girlfriend.

She calls after me. I hear it but can’t process what she’s saying. The only thoughts in my head are of Avery.

Where he is.

How many steps to reach him.

Whether he’s prepared for what’s coming.

If I should warn him to back off or solve the problem once and for all.

As chances for this sort of thing go, this is the perfect opportunity. We’re outside. In the open. Amy’s safe in the car. Avery may be tall and reasonably athletic, but he doesn’t stand a chance against me. Growing up with five brothers hardened me to fighting in a way only professionals understand—especially when you grow up famous for being a mischievous little shit.

His gaze darts my way as I approach, and he stops fighting with Amy but doesn’t remove his fucking hand from her fucking shoulder. He turns, angling the car door between us like a shield.

Smarter than I would’ve given him credit for.

Then he opens his mouth and destroys any credit he just earned. “I can’t believe you, Amy. I mean. Him? Really? How can you stand the tattoos? What’s next, one on his face? I told Morgan all about this whole debacle and she thinks you’re just as crazy as I do.” His voice spits venom as he leans down to hiss a threat. “This is your last chance. If you don’t wake up right this instant and realize you won the lottery with me, then I might need to reevaluate my decision to settle for you in the first place.”

Not so smart after all.

Honestly, I couldn’t care less about a pissant like him mocking me. I have to respect someone before I give a fuck what they say. But the way he talks to Amy—that shit isn’t going to fly. While he’s distracted, I close the gap between us, rolling my neck from one side to the other as he unleashes his tirade.

“I was honestly willing to forgive your humble upbringing. I was willing to look past your imperfections. But whoring around and ending up pregnant with a bastard—by some bastard son of a bitch—”

And there’s the line he should never have crossed. Where I grew up, calling a man a son of a bitch equals calling his mother a bitch. That’s one thing no Wilde would ever let stand.

I grab Avery by the collar and drag him from the car. “You say anything you want about me, prick.” I sense his fear in the frantic way he’s scrambling to regain his balance and a wicked grin tightens my lips. “But you have to keep bringing women into it. Enough. Time to work this out like men.”

Avery looks toward the car. “Do you see what a Neanderthal he is? Common country trash.” He sneers in disgust. “Maybe you two are perfect for each other after all.”

I step forward with a jab but open my hand at the last second and slap him across the face. “Hey, dickhead. Didn’t I just tell you to stop insulting women?”

Red-faced and blind with embarrassment, Avery charges. He tries to tackle me to the ground—just like Hank used to. Out of habit I lower my center of gravity, using his momentum against him and tossing him over my head. He lands at the edge of the yard and skids to a stop in front of a shrub.

He heaves himself off the ground, his breath heavy, his face scratched from the cement. “You’re going to pay for that.”

I hear Amy’s voice but still can’t focus on what she’s saying. I assume she’s pleading with us to stop behaving like children. But there’s no stopping Avery and me from locking horns. Not when it’s this long overdue.

“Too late, Ames.” Avery wipes at the blood on his cheek. “I’ve been trying for weeks to make you see the truth. You wouldn’t respond to my emails, so I messaged you. You wouldn’t respond to that, so I left notes with flowers on your car. You wouldn’t respond to that, so here I am, waiting for you to come home from God knows where. And this is how you reward me? I’m done trying with you. After I handle this loose end, I’ll be out of your pathetic little life for good.”

“Oh yeah? You’re going to ‘handle’ me?” I chuckle. “Come on then.” I motion him toward me with my leading hand. “Handle me.”

Avery raises his fists and charges again.

It’s almost funny. He’s doing the same thing a younger me used to try with Jack whenever we’d mix it up. Never worked out for me and it’s not gonna work for this stupid asshole, either. Standing on this side of things, I finally understand why Jack was the natural wrestler in the family. Not by sport so much as preference. Didn’t matter which brother tangled with him, if Jack got them on the ground, it was over. When Avery reaches me, he steps wide and puts all his momentum behind a haymaker of a punch. Lucky for me, his adrenaline’s flowing, causing him to overcommit and miss my face.

His fist lands hard against my shoulder.

His hand recoils as the pain of the impact resonates back through his arm. While he’s distracted, I step into his space, grab his shirt with both hands and drop a classic Jack Wilde maneuver, pulling him off balance and dragging him to the ground. He groans in confusion as he falls over me, then crashes onto the driveway, reeling and disoriented.

I leap on top of him and turn him over, pinning his arms under my knees before I grab a fistful of hair to get his attention. “Say you’re finished stalking and insulting Amy and this can be over. Tell me you’ve learned your lesson.”

Defiantly, he shakes his head. “Go to hell,” he grunts between gasps.

“Leo please!” Amy’s hands on my shoulders finally brings her voice into focus over the hum of rage in my head. “Get up. You’re hurting him!”

I look up in disbelief. “I’m hurting him? That’s what you have to say to me right now?”

Her eyes are wide. Pupils dilated. Nostrils flared. Her brows are tight and her entire body trembles. As much as I’d like to think all that fear is for me, I’m not the one pinned to the ground.

Winded and confused, I stand, shaking my head. “Okay. What-fucking-ever.” I inhale a long breath through my nose and hold it before blowing it out through my mouth. “You said before that you could explain. Well?” I wipe the dirt off my clothes, sneering.

Amy bites her lip and stares at her feet. “I should have told you he was still…around. But I wasn’t talking to him. I wasn’t engaging at all. He said it himself.” She points to the ground where Avery was.

Fuck. Where’d he go?

A white flash of pain replaces Amy as Avery tackles me from behind. He takes me to the ground and tries to climb on top of me like I did him, but I know to twist my hips before he can settle his weight on top, creating enough room to counter his move and push him off.

I scramble back to my feet with my hands up, ready for round two. Avery does the same, leaving us toe-to-toe in the middle of a driveway—at eleven in the morning, on a Tuesday.

“Leo, don’t. Please!” Amy presses her hands to her mouth.

“Fuck that. This isn’t on me.” I nod to the idiot standing across from me. “I stopped when you asked.”

Avery throws a jab then follows it with a right cross. His moves are amateurish and telegraphed, and I avoid them easily...

…until Amy steps between us. “Both of you. Stop this right now.”

Worried about her safety, I make the cardinal mistake of turning my back to Avery while I guide her out of harm’s way. When I turn my attention back to him, a right cross lands against my jaw.

Now I’m pissed.

I do my best to shake off the disorientation and blurry vision. “I’m over this.”

I throw two punches.

The first lands straight and true, pounding into his nose and mouth.

The second, a hard right with my bodyweight behind it, probably breaks his jaw.

And that’s that. It’s lights out for old Avery. He drops like a sack of potatoes. Conversation over.

It’s not like I’m expecting to be lauded as a hero, but the way Amy looks at me before rushing to Avery’s side—I’m not expecting that either.

As she pulls out her phone and dials 911, her face says everything.

The look I’ve seen my entire life but stopped expecting to see from her.

Judgement.