Wild Child Read online

  Which had been my plan all along, although this path was a different route.

  “Daniel has booked three overnight guides for the summer so far,” I said to Maverick. “Two in August, one in July. I should get all three. There could be one sooner. He wasn’t sure when. Said the client hadn’t decided yet.”

  Maverick nodded, but I could see his thoughts whirl. He didn’t like the thought of me alone in the mountains with people he didn’t know. The very nature of me taking someone else into the forest meant they had no idea what they were doing. I could outlast and outlive any of them. Besides, I was better with a knife than most men. Three years of self-defense lessons with Benjamin Mercedey gave me a leg up. I’d saved my own life twice at college.

  Shane squirmed in Mav’s arms, but Mav didn’t seem to notice. His thoughts brewed deep today, which meant something was definitely up.

  “Why?” I drawled.

  Maverick shrugged. “No reason, just wondering.”

  “Liar.”

  He rolled his eyes. “We’ll need to onboard someone else to pick up the hours, or we might give them to the new girl Dahlia if she wants them. Dagny dropped her hours to weekends only while doing an internship with a construction company after graduating in the winter. I’m just thinking ahead.”

  Fair enough excuse, but I wasn’t buying it. Mav shook it off and gave me his usual roguish smile, even if something belied it.

  “Have fun on your ride and be safe.”

  “Always.”

  Shane blew me a sloppy kiss as they headed out the door. The Frolicking Moose fell into quiet again. The scent of vanilla and coffee combined when I bit into the first piece of cupcake. Sweet things weren’t my preference, and neither were cupcakes, but I appreciated the subdued party.

  Attention also wasn’t my thing, not even on the first birthday of my twenties. A milestone, for sure.

  One I should be celebrating with Devin.

  The traitorous thought passed through my mind so sneakily I almost didn’t hear it. As soon as I realized he’d snuck back in, I turned him away again.

  Three years ago, Devin made his choice. The first year, he stayed away. Hadn’t returned once. After finishing recruit training in San Diego, he’d flown his parents out to see him at his assigned duty station in North Carolina twice. He ghosted this town. Almost two years passed before he returned. I made myself scarce for the two weeks he’d been here, thanks to Millie’s inside knowledge on his schedule. A backpacking trip by myself through the mountains. It had been redeeming. I returned the morning he left and didn’t once see him.

  Shortly after, he deployed to Afghanistan for a year. According to his mother, he’d recently returned.

  Despite the errant thought of Devin that I tried to dismiss, my stubborn mind held on. Thoughts of my fifteenth birthday came next, when he’d helped me pick out Thor, my Rhodesian Ridgeback dog. Then my sixteenth birthday, when he sat in the passenger seat of my junker car with a helmet on after my license became official. Pain followed the memories like a river, so I turned my thoughts away again.

  This is why birthdays sucked. Too many memories stacked behind them.

  I eyed the clock. In fact, it was almost time to really celebrate. I had a few canyons to refresh myself on. There were back trails I’d taken before that avoided the highway, which saved time. I could ride for a few hours and be back for family dinner.

  No one headed in from the parking lot outside, so I dashed out the back door, over to the outside loft entrance, and upstairs to the attic apartment where I lived. Hiking boots and maps littered my bed and floor as I shucked off my black pants and yanked on my jeans.

  The distant sound of the door jingled below.

  “Coming!” I called.

  After I stuffed my feet into my boots, I grabbed a hair tie and slipped back down the winding stairs. Millie came to see me almost every day in between hair appointments for a caffeine boost. No doubt, she’d sneak in today. Boots untied, I carefully descended the stairs and hurried back through the door into the main area.

  “Sorry about that. I—”

  I jerked to a stop before I knew why. Tall figure. Broad shoulders with stacked muscles and thick arms. Sandy blond hair with slivers of brown, cropped too short to tell.

  Devin.

  For five seconds, I stared at him without comprehending fully. He pulled off a pair of reflective aviators, and those chocolate brown eyes met mine.

  “Ellie.”

  The word was tentative, maybe yearning. I couldn’t tell because my throat had closed off. Instead of responding, I stared at him.

  Devin.

  Devin.

  Devin.

  “Dev,” I heard myself say.

  We stared at each other for a small eternity, nothing in the room but charged air and unspoken emotions. Dark emotions. Relieved emotions. Something that lived on the edge of hysteria and joy.

  He looked so good. So . . . tan. So . . . torn. Was the edge in his eyes because of me? Millie kept me updated on him. Secretly, I sucked up every single word. He had supposedly returned from a twelve-month deployment at some point a few weeks ago, but the details were vague and uncertain, and I’d been busy at the outfitters. No one had mentioned him visiting.

  I must have been staring at him too long because his gaze dropped. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to slow my breathing.

  “I . . .” He clacked his teeth together. “I just got into town.”

  “Oh.”

  By sheer instinct, I stepped behind the counter and reached for my apron. My brain hardly comprehended what I did, but I felt purpose and stabilization in the movement.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  My voice was a breathy sound. A choked sob, maybe? I didn’t dare look at him to read his face. This entire sequence felt unreal. Like I moved through water. Like this was one of the thousands of dreams I’d had over the last three years where he’d walk back into my life, and I’d wake up to realize it was the last three years that had been the dream.

  “No, thanks.”

  I started making something anyway because I couldn’t just stand there. Nor could I look at him. The memories came too fast. Like whips, they burned.

  “Glad you’re home safe,” I managed to say, and I meant it. I snuck a quick glance at him. Something dark clouded his features when he nodded, but he looked outside now, jaw tight.

  “I didn’t tell my parents that I was coming. Wanted to surprise them.”

  “Your Mom will cry.”

  He chuckled again, and the darkness had passed. My heart cracked with a Devin-deep fissure. He was the same. Three years, two deployments, and countless hours of unknown life separated us, but he was still Devin.

  How could he just show up?

  Another burdened silence weighed heavy in the air as I grabbed a cup and filled it with coffee. Then I added cream, sugar, and a hint of cinnamon on top. Once I finished, I set the lid on, then stared at it.

  My brain whirled in two capacities:

  1. Do something so he’d go away.

  2. Figure out why Devin had returned.

  Neither was feasible at this moment. He cleared his throat.

  “I, uh . . . I didn’t tell anyone because I was afraid you’d disappear again, like you did a year or so ago.” His shoulders lifted as he drew in a deep breath. “I was afraid you’d leave, and I wouldn’t get a chance to see you. Or talk to you.”

  Shock dropped all pretenses. “I would have.”

  He winced. “I know.”

  My hands shook as I reached for another empty cup, set it back down in a different spot, then grabbed a rag from the sink.

  I’m not the only one that’s been running away, I wanted to say.

  Tables. I could wipe those down. Because there was a dusty, forgotten box in the corner of my mind trembling with the urge to break. To remind me of the past, of what I’d locked away. But I clamped back down on it because that box had been destroyed the night
of prom. Somehow, it had built itself back up. Now, it sat there with thick armor and a low growl that dared anything that might poke it. Inside the ravaged box waited affection, adoration, hope, dreams, and lo— . . . the box would be gone now. Empty, demolished by time. But wasn’t that the scariest part of all?

  Maybe, inside that box, there was nothing left.

  “I’m glad you stopped by.” I avoided his gaze as I shoved a chair under a table, then wiped the already clean surface. I could feel his eyes on my back. “But I need to be going soon. Just getting ready to clear out of here.”

  “It’s your birthday.”

  I bit back my instant retort. You don’t get to know everything about me now, Dev. You gave that up.

  So I said nothing.

  “I brought you something.”

  The sound of a box settling on the counter followed. Whatever it was, it must be pocket-sized, because he hadn’t been holding anything when he’d walked in. With ferocious intent, I wiped down the next table. My throat had nearly swollen closed.

  He hesitated, somewhere behind me out of arms reach. I stopped, straightened, and for one moment gave into the thoughts that streamed through my head.

  How dare you?

  Don’t ever come back again.

  Please don’t die out there.

  You left.

  Tell me everything.

  I’d dreamed—consciously and unconsciously—of this moment so many times. Most of them revolved around him coming home while I dated someone else, or just finished a guide, returned from South America, or some other big, awesome life event. Then I’d smile, act delighted to see him, and prove that I didn’t need him to be happy. Then I would leave him, so he’d know that he made the right mistake by lying and abandoning me and my dreams.

  Instead, I leaned both palms against the table and tried to catch my breath. Tried to convince myself that I could shove my happiness in his face and that I wanted to. But I could barely organize my thoughts.

  “Ellie—”

  “Don’t.”

  The word came out sharp as a knife and with more feeling than I meant. Lost in the pain now, I whirled around.

  “Tell me you didn’t come back with some sort of hope for us. Tell me that your life has been exactly what you wanted it to be, and it was worth it and you want to go back to it after you spend some time here.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it again. But I didn’t save him. I sat in that waiting space until he finally said, “I came because I wanted to see you. I wanted to clear the air between us after what happened.”

  My shoulders snapped back. “Oh, well, that’s easy enough. You are absolved of any guilt that you feel. I forgive you for lying and altering the course of my life. For avoiding me for three years and then for showing up without warning.” My chin lifted, and righteous indignation gave me the strength to power through. “Do you want me to say that you made the right choice? Because I will. I’ll say that you did the right thing, and now you can go back to it without residual guilt. Does that feel better?”

  The pain in my own voice bothered me. Hadn’t I dealt with this? Hadn’t I tucked it all away or thought it out of my brain yet? Apparently not, because the fire of a thousand suns burned in my chest now.

  “No.”

  He said it so quietly I almost didn’t hear it at first.

  “Then what do you want?”

  His eyes met mine, more burnt sienna than brown now. The pain there cut through my own, and an instinct buried deep in my chest wanted to reach out and console him. But I held it back because Devin didn’t need me anymore.

  “I want a chance.”

  “To what?”

  “To explain.”

  My breath still came too fast, my thoughts too slow. Just seeing him there, as familiar and yet as unknown as a stranger, made it almost impossible to think.

  “I want to explain why I did it.” He pressed on because I hadn’t spoken. “I want a chance to at least explain why . . .”

  He sighed. I waited for him to finish the thought, but he didn’t. Something broke inside me, and I didn’t know what it was, but I couldn’t take another moment of this. Although subtle and layered with the overwhelming scent of coffee, there was a hint of pine in the air. His smell. The smell that had carried me through each day as a young girl.

  Give him a chance, I thought, and he’ll just leave again.

  Because men leave.

  Love dies.

  You take care of yourself.

  With a quick spin, I headed behind the counter. Ditched the cloth in the sink, locked the drive-thru window, and grabbed my backpack. My keys jangled in the outside pocket as I riffled around it and blatantly ignored his birthday present.

  “Maybe some other time,” I said. “I need to go.”

  He said nothing at first, but nodded, looking uncertain. There were harder edges to him now, hiding the softer, kinder Devin I once knew. This was an older version of Devin. The version of Devin that had seen the world. What had happened to him to cause the emotional callous over once-gentle eyes?

  I slung the backpack over one shoulder and motioned to the door.

  “Goodbye, Dev.”

  With one last look, he headed to the door and stepped outside. The moment it closed, I flipped the lock and fled out the back door, relieved to get some space between us.

  I darted away before I begged him to take me into his arms and never let me go.

  2

  Devin

  Early summer sunshine glowed hot on my back as I stepped outside the Frolicking Moose and headed for my rental car. The lock flipped behind me with a final thud as Ellie shut me out.

  Yet again.

  Less than two minutes later, a beater truck appeared from behind the shop. Without a glance my way, Ellie pulled onto Main Street and headed out. No doubt she was headed home. Or maybe to my parents’ house to saddle the horse and run to the mountains. That sounded more like her.

  But how would I know anyway? Three years separated us. All I had now was supposition.

  Now that she’d left, I could close my eyes and let out the longest exhale ever. Could calm the roiling panic, fear, and terror that had been wreaking havoc on my body for the last four days. All the questions I’d been secretly obsessing over had died away. What is she like now? Does she utterly hate me?

  Is there any chance?

  Harsh reception aside, her response had been better than I’d expected. My brow furrowed on the thought. What had I expected? I didn’t know, but cold indifference seemed most likely. Rage, perhaps. Ellie never made a scene, she just left. Disappeared. Like a cat, she had a way of slipping away to never be found again if she wanted. Kind of like now.

  So, at least she’d spoken to me.

  Maybe I’d expected silence, too, because that’s certainly what I’d experienced the last three years.

  I tilted my head back to look at the clouds and let the quiet settle my thoughts. The worst of it was over. At least I’d broken the ice. Clapped my eyes on her after three years of dreaming what she’d look like. Her dark hair was still long, brushing past her shoulders. Her eyes like evergreens, skin tanned and rough, body slim. Her expression had matured. She’d lost the gentle roundness of youth but certainly hadn’t gained any laugh lines. She was stronger now, a wiriness built under the flannel shirt that hid a tank top. Glimpses of her shoulder had peeked out as she’d frantically scrubbed the tables to avoid me.

  My left shoulder ached, so I reached over to rub it just as my phone chimed with a text message. I shook my head to pull myself back to the present. Texting took some getting used to after returning back to civilization, just like everything else. The chatter on the radio felt like too much noise. The people in the grocery store stood too close.

  Pineville seemed surreal, with its calm temperatures and people walking everywhere without fear. While my world had constantly changed into new landscapes for the last three years, Pineville hadn’t changed much at all. Except
for the new Frolicking Moose, everything else was just like home.

  Whether that was comfort or frustration, I couldn’t tell.

  Maverick: You survive?

  * * *

  Devin: Barely.

  * * *

  Maverick: How’d she take it?

  * * *

  Devin: As expected. Shock. A bit of rage. Then she ran.

  * * *

  Maverick: Did she say she’d give you a chance to explain?

  My finger tapped against the back of my phone as I thought about the answer. She hadn’t said no. At least, not directly. Hadn’t outright refused me. Maybe some other time was infinitely better than go to hell.

  Or was it the same thing?

  Devin: She said maybe later.

  * * *

  Maverick: That’s something.

  * * *

  Devin: Let’s hope. I have three weeks to clear this up with her before I have to head back.

  * * *

  Maverick: Have faith. Ellie needs you. She’s not the same girl. She’ll see it if you keep after it. I’ll enlist Lizbeth’s help tonight. She always talks sense into her.

  * * *

  Devin: Thanks, Mav.

  * * *

  Maverick: I’m here. Reintegration after a deployment like yours is scary as hell. Sometimes, it takes another soldier to understand. I’ve got you, brother.

  I closed my phone. Didn’t want to think about that yet, or name it, but I silently appreciated it all the same. Being in love with my best friend, who effectively hated me now, was traumatic enough.

  Almost losing the chance to tell her how I felt, however, was far more frightening. Being two shades away from death several times had a way of bringing clarity to the greatest darkness. I wouldn’t lose this chance again.