Walk on the Wilder Side by Serena Bell
34
Rachel
Itravel with the pack of Wilders, waiting for Brody to come back. I’ve got Justin back in the Björn, and he’s dozing with his little cheek pressed against my chest. He’s warm and heavy and I think I’ll implode from the cuteness.
Finally Brody comes back, alone, with his head down. Damn, that can’t be good. The Wilders apparently think we need space, because they immediately drift away, citing all the other places they need to be—main stage, food booths, home.
“Hey,” I say to Brody, when they’re gone. “Everything okay? Ish?”
He shrugs. “I mean, yes and no. He didn’t punch me in the face and I don’t think he’s going to kill me.”
I smile at that. “I’m grateful for that. I’d miss you if he did.”
His head swings up, just enough for me to catch a flash of green. “Will you miss me? When you go?”
This is it: This is the moment to ask him how he’d feel if I said I was thinking about staying. For him.
“Will you miss your walk on the Wilder side?”
He says it almost like a tease, but the familiar words catch me with a jolt, and I can hear the hurt. Plus his head’s still down. No eye contact.
“Did Connor—?”
He nods.
“Brody. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should never have said that Wilder thing, even as a joke. It was more about me than about you.”
“I know,” he says. “You had to prove something about yourself. That you weren’t any kind of girl. And you did.”
“No—I mean, that wasn’t all it was, Brody. It might have started that way, but it became something else.”
He lifts his head, turns toward me. And stares at me. Green eyes, long lashes, his hair rumpled. His stubble is golden.
He has never looked more beautiful to me, and I know that the more I get to know Brody Wilder, the more beautiful he will be.
And I can’t read his expression at all.
“I care about you, Brody. A lot.”
Say it, Rachel. Say you’ve fallen in love with him. Tell him you love him.
I almost say it: I love you, Brody. I want to stay, if you want me to.
But I don’t get the words out before he says, “It’s been a good adventure, Rach. And I’ll be sorry when it’s over.”
Wait.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.
This isn’t the plan.
The thought stops my breathing.
Have I done it again, without even meaning to? Have I leapt so far ahead in my fantasy world that I stopped clearly seeing the man right in front of me? Have I written a whole plan for a man who wants nothing to do with it?
As if he can hear the voice in my head, he says, “You can pick up your plan right where you left off. Like you said, you didn’t even lose too much ground. You have your job again, in Boston, the apartment with Louisa.”
Now, Rachel. Now.
“But you’re here.”
“Rachel,” he says, sounding tired. Like it hurts him to say my name. “I’m not the guy in the plan. I don’t—”
We lock eyes. Something stills in his, like a spark that has flickered and gone dark.
“You don’t what, Brody?”
He shakes his head. “I’m really fucking sick of not being the man people need me to be, Rachel. I couldn’t do that to you. You’d end up resenting me.”
“That’s not true, Brody!” Can I make him believe me? “You’ve never disappointed me, and I know you won’t start now.”
But he won’t look at me. I can’t even see his eyes; they’re hidden by the fall of his hair.
And all of a sudden I get it.
“You don’t want to be the guy in the plan,” I say dully.
I wait for him to fight me.
I wait for him to look at me.
But without lifting his head, he shakes it, and I know it’s over.
How ironic, I think. Werner wanted me to the be the girl he married, but not the girl he fucked. And Brody wants the opposite.
“Okay,” I say. “Okay.”
He holds out his arms. For a brief, startlingly wonderful moment, I think he is holding out his arms for me. I think we are going to be okay, that I misunderstood him.
But as I start to step forward, I remember the weight on my chest. Justin.
He’s holding out his arms to take Justin.
He waits patiently while I unstrap the carrier. My hands are shaking, and I think he sees that, but he doesn’t reach out to help. I’m glad he doesn’t; I don’t know what I’d do if he touched me now.
Probably start to cry.
To distract myself, I kiss Justin on the top of his head. When I lift my face, Brody looks away.
“So that’s—it,” I say.
He nods, without looking at me. And then he turns away, completely, opens the truck door, and settles Justin into his car seat.
I stand there, helpless, watching, wanting to say something, anything, the one right thing that will change the outcome.
Even though I know that thing doesn’t exist.
I take a deep breath.
I walk away.
Just about the time I get to the edge of the parking lot, the engine roars to life. And then he pulls out of the parking lot and he’s gone.
I double over, out of breath and out of shape and hurting so bad in my stomach and chest that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to draw a full breath again.