Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
I turned down my street, the familiar sight doing little to calm the storm brewing inside me. I pulled into the driveway, parking behind Cherish’s Enclave, the SUV a reminder that I wasn’t alone in all of this. Daniella was still out, her closing shift at the bar likely just now ending. She’d be home soon enough, exhausted and smelling of beer and smoke, completely unaware of the mess I was in.
I turned off the engine, the car going silent, but the deafening quiet inside me only grew louder. The tears I’d been fighting for the entire drive started to blur my vision again, but I blinked them away, unwilling to fall apart just yet. I knew once I started, I wouldn’t stop. I stared at my phone, knowing there was an unread message waiting for me.
I didn’t want to read it.
I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking I cared what he had to say. As I sat there, staring at the dark house, I knew I had to. If I didn’t, it would eat away at me all night.
With a shaky breath, I unlocked my phone and opened his message. It was simple. Just two words.
Wild: Come home.
I stared at the screen, my heart lurching painfully in my chest. He wasn’t talking about his penthouse. We always told each other that home for us was wherever the other was. For a split second, I almost typed out a response: You’re not my home anymore. The words were on the tip of my fingers, bitter and filled with the kind of pain that makes you lash out. I stopped myself. That was what he wanted—some sort of reaction. Anything to make me fall back into the orbit of his control. Instead, I did something better.
Nothing.
Silence could be just as powerful as any reply.
Let him sit there, waiting for a response that wasn’t coming. I didn’t stop there. I took it further.
With trembling hands, I went through my phone, systematically blocking him on everything—calls, texts, social media. Every app that connected me to him felt like a live wire I had to sever, no matter how much it burned. Each block, each deliberate click, felt like carving pieces of my heart out, leaving raw, aching spaces where he was supposed to be. I paused with every step, hesitating, the weight of each decision pressing down like a physical blow.
After gathering all the composure I could muster, I finally exited the car, the cool fall air wrapping around me, sharp and biting. It was quiet, the kind of eerie stillness that made every small sound stand out. The crunch of leaves under my boots felt too loud as I crept toward the house, hoping that Moose wouldn’t hear me and start barking. The last thing I needed was him barreling down the stairs and waking up the whole neighborhood.
I barely made it halfway up the walkway when the front door swung open. The outside light clicked on, spilling warmth onto the front lawn. I froze, mid-step, blinking against the sudden brightness. Cherish stood in the doorway in nothing but a fluffy crop top and matching pajama shorts, her silk bonnet perched on her head, not exactly dressed for the chill in the air.
Her eyes locked on me, instantly reading the situation. We didn’t need words for her to know. She was the only person outside Wilder who could read me like an open book. My best friend turned sister from the day our parents adopted me at the age of thirteen.
She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in that way only a sister could manage, full of both concern and readiness for a fight. “Do I need to go grab my tennis shoes and Vaseline?” she asked in a calm, steady voice, “Or do you need me to hold you while you cry and rage?”
I let out a shaky laugh, though it felt more like a sob, and the tightness in my chest loosened just a fraction. I didn’t know what I needed yet, but just seeing her standing there made the weight of everything feel a little lighter. “Option one sounds perfect if I didn’t want to make us felons. I think I’m going to go cry in the shower,” I tried to joke, forcing a weak smile.
Without a word, my sister moved aside, letting me in, and Moose was right behind her, his stubby tail wagging as he came to greet me. I stopped for a second, reaching down to wrap my arms around his neck. He always seemed to know when I needed him.
“Do you want to talk tonight? Or tomorrow?” my sister asked softly.
“Tomorrow,” I replied in the same tone, looking up at her. She wanted answers, I could see it in her eyes. A play-by-play, every detail laid out for her to dissect.