Running Wild – Wild Series Read Online K.A. Tucker

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: K.A. Tucker Advertisement1

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I’d been expecting a run-in, eventually. It’s impossible to not cross paths with your ex when you live within five miles of each other, but I’ve succeeded in avoiding any close encounters so far. That day, I waited in my truck until they were gone. I heard they bought a house in a new subdivision in Palmer, so the likelihood of a grocery store meeting has diminished considerably.

“She’s pregnant.”

“Oh yeah?” I swallow my surprise with a swig of my beer, feeling an unexpected twinge at that news. Predictable, though it must not have been planned. Jonathan was always adamant that the wedding comes before the baby.

“She’s due in March. A boy. He told me its name, but I can’t remember—”

“Clancy,” I finish. After his grandfather. Jonathan has had that name chosen for years. It was just the mother of his son who he had to swap out.

Liz is observing me as if I’m a bug beneath a microscope. I know what she’s doing—searching for proof that I regret handing back that diamond ring. She never understood why I would. Jonathan is husband material on paper—handsome, smart, faithful, successful, well mannered. And to be fair, there was never anything wrong with him, nothing concrete that I could add to the cons column for why I shouldn’t marry him other than “doesn’t make my heart race like Jonah does.”

Liz and Jonathan got along famously. At one point, I thought she might have had a secret crush on him. She has never met Jonah, but I know she would never approve of him. She approves of very little in my life lately.

It wasn’t always that way. Liz and I are sixteen months apart—I was born in February and Liz the following year in June. Growing up, we had people convinced we were legitimate twins because we looked so much alike, and we were inseparable. I can still remember sitting on the clinic floor with our legs stretched wide to form a makeshift pen for the litter of sled dog puppies our father had rescued from being culled. We laughed as they stumbled around, unable to control their bladders, peeing all over. It didn’t bother us any. We had grand plans to take over Dad’s clinic one day, working side by side as Dr. Lehr and Dr. Lehr.

But then something shifted in Liz. She stopped coming around the clinic to help with the animals, and she no longer wanted to hang out. The usual sisterly spats turned into major blowouts, and what used to be friendly teasing morphed into vicious competition. It upset me until my father sat me down and explained that for all our similarities, there were glaring differences. Namely, how easily my grades came to me while Liz struggled for her mediocre ones. Playing pretend veterinarians was one thing; getting into a veterinarian school was another. Liz was beginning to see the reality of that, and she has never handled jealousy well.

The tension eased by the time we reached our twenties, once I left for school and Liz seemed content in her receptionist position at a car dealership in Anchorage, “running the office,” as she claimed. But the bond we once had has never returned, and that sense of rivalry still lingers.

Honestly, I’m not sure if my sister is bringing up Jonathan’s pregnant fiancée now because she’s genuinely curious where my head’s at, or if she sees it as a chance to feel superior. Liz, the happily married Lehr sister with two beautiful kids and a smart, successful husband.

Marie, the lonely, childless Lehr who still spends her days getting peed on by dogs.

I keep my fears to myself, but sometimes, late at night, when the rain beats against my cabin’s tin roof and I’m unable to sleep, I do question if I made a horrible mistake. I wonder how different my life would look had I chosen the other path, the one where I married Jonathan. Would I be happy enough?

I never wonder too hard, though, because if I’d truly been content with him, I wouldn’t have been so easily swayed by that hairy-faced bush pilot’s charm.

But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought long and hard about whether that choice tucked my desire for children into a sturdy coffin. I always assumed I would be a mother one day, once my career was established and the time was right. Longed for it. Nobody has to remind me of my climbing age and the challenges it might present, especially given our family’s history—the two miscarriages Mom had between Liz and Vicki, the one Liz had between her two girls. I remind myself of it every time I see a pregnant woman walk down the grocery store aisle or hear a baby’s cry.

Lately, I worry that I’ve already missed my chance and I just haven’t realized it yet.


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