Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
“Wilder, is that what you want to do?” It’s asked thoughtfully, with consideration and care.
But what I want to do is irrelevant. I’ve never been able to do what I want with him. Paying it off is what I have to do. It’s what I’m supposed to do. It’s the right fucking thing. Doesn’t she get this? “I’ll try to help him,” I say, but that falls flat even to my ears. He has to help himself. I know this but still the knot of tension cranks even higher. “I’ll just pay it off. And then we’ll move on.”
She takes a beat, like she’s being careful with her words. “Do you think paying it off is going to solve it?”
But I’m barely listening to her. “Actually, I can take care of everything right now. I don’t know why I didn’t do this beforehand.” Except maybe I’m turning soft. Like I was last night when Brady played me better by having Iris hum along. I can’t keep missing opportunities because I’m distracted. “Why don’t I call Desert Springs and pay off whatever he owes them? I’m sure he owes them something.”
I grab my phone and immediately start googling the phone number for Desert Springs Casino. I’m about to hit call when Fable’s hand comes down on mine. She’s not gentle. She’s firm and crystal clear as she says, “Look at me.”
I’m not used to people talking to me that way. It catches my attention and I look up. “What? Why?”
She looks me straight in the eyes. “You don’t have to fix it. I’m sorry it’s happening. But you might not be able to solve it, and you also don’t have to solve it.”
She’s so calm, but I’m like a washing machine on a vigorous spin cycle that shakes the entire house.
“But I do,” I insist because that knot in my chest is getting tighter.
“Don’t you see what you’re doing? You keep bailing him out,” she says, her words cutting me to the core.
“He’s my dad,” I say.
“I know, and I’m just looking out for you.”
“You don’t get it,” I bite out.
She inches away from me on the couch but she doesn’t back down. “Just because it’s not my experience doesn’t mean I don’t understand it. You’ve told me about it. And I understand people. What I’m trying to say is if you feel you need to go look for him, that’s fine. If you want to leave here and go to Vegas to find him, I get that. But I don’t think you should pay off his debt.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, perhaps to let me stew on that last comment. But I’m actually stuck on what she said right before.
“You wouldn’t object if I wanted to go?” I ask so I’m clear.
“If that’s what you needed to do, I’d stand by you. If you wanted me to go with you, I would. If you needed to be alone to deal with it, I’d understand.”
This is hypothetical, I tell myself. This is all hypothetical.
But no one has ever said anything like that to me before. No one has ever offered something that selfless. Something so focused on…family.
My heart softens even more for her. Every time I’m with Fable, I fail miserably to get over her. I fail horribly at moving on. I fail awfully at forgetting how much I adore her.
And I don’t know what to do with failure. But relationships always seem to go wrong. And somehow, some way, this one is going to as well. I know it even as I say, “I’m not going to leave. And I’m not going to that casino. And I’m not going to bail him out either.”
At least not today.
“Good. I’m proud of you,” she says.
The knot in me loosens a little bit.
I lift my arm, inviting her close. She slides in, snuggling against me. I whisper in her ear, “I can’t believe you’re up and out here, given how you hate mornings.”
“I had a feeling you needed me.”
I kiss the top of her head. “I did.”
Far too much.
39
FLYING FIGGY PUDDING
Fable
“Seven-layer bars?”
From behind her black-and-white glasses, Josie’s big blue eyes pop as she gawks at the tray that I bring my friends that afternoon. Wilder made them with Mac a little while ago since he owed them to me. But he also said it took his mind off his dad, and I was glad he had a distraction.
“Your man actually made seven-layer bars?” Josie asks again, even though the evidence is right here in the living room that connects our cabins.
Maeve darts out a grabby hand. “Who cares if he actually made them? I want one. They look delicious.” She promptly stuffs it in her face and rolls her eyes in pleasure. “Oh my god, the man can bake. Wait. Can he fuck too?”