Page 48

CHAPTER 47

ANOTHER LIFE

CASS

F or a week, I have drifted around like a floaty, lovey, sparkly cloud of glitter.

Life has never felt like this. There’s a rightness, a certainty in every breath, every step, every moment thick with the stuff. It’s a settling, I think, an acceptance of my life with Wilder with an absolutely giddy proclamation. Before, I’d only known deep down, underneath the layers of uncertainty and fear and overwhelm.

Now I know with every single molecule that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

Wilder and I are love struck, swept away and very nearly drowning now that the levee is in shambles at the bottom of Lovey Dovey Schmoop Lake. Can two people actually merge into one person and coexist? We’re on our way there, moving seamlessly through life, coming together every moment we can and taking full advantage. If we’re in the same room, we’re touching. And if we’re talking, we are probably laughing, our happiness an effervescent thing, bubbly and fizzy and light and filling every inch of space in whatever room we happen to be in, including the spaces inside of us.

Honestly, I’m drunk off it. I probably shouldn’t even drive.

The sports complex buzzes with excitement, the dewy fields already full of little girls getting warmed up, ours included. Wilder and the other two coaches have the team in the outfield tossing balls to each other as they take turns practicing hitting with the swing stick—a bendy stick with a ball stuck on the end for the girls to swing at. Cricket looks fierce, her body tight and eyes narrowed on the ball, nailing it with a ping every time Wilder brings it back to her.

My smile is permanent, widening while I watch them, only looking away to get set up. We hauled a metric ton of shit to the field—camping chairs, a cooler, a gear bag, a big tote full of sunscreen and Band-Aids and battery packs and snacks.

I’m giddy, my heart doubling in size as I sit in my camping chair on this side of the fence in my Rosebuds team tee and matching hat. I almost put a ribbon in my hair like I used to in high school, but I have no sense of what’s too much anymore. Excitement reigns supreme, sprinkled with pride when the umpire brings me the score sheet to fill out for our team.

The last time I felt this much a part of things was before I left for Oxford. Sure, there were times when I caught little whispers of belonging, like when Davis and I were with Jessa and Henry. But it was always tinged with this knowledge that I didn’t fit in. They’re rich and fabulous, and Henry and Jessa are British peerage. I mean, Jessa is the daughter of a marquess, for God’s sake, and I was just some girl from Tennessee who said y’all and didn’t know one fork from another. And despite learning and adjusting to fit myself into their world, I wasn’t a part of it. Only a guest, an observer.

But here, decked out in baseball gear with the smell of freshly cut grass lingering in the cool morning air, I’m home.

Since her tournament is this weekend, Cricket didn’t go to her grandparents, and it’s not long before Paul and Patty show up. Not far behind them is our gang, including Jessa and Remy, Molly and Tate, Shelby and Greyson, plus Mama and Wilder’s dad too. They sit in the bleachers behind me, but Patty and Paul take the seats I’ve set up for them. We’re busy chatting when Cricket runs over.

She’s grinning, cheeks flushed under her little baseball hat. The second she reaches us, she throws herself into Paul’s arms, giggling when he makes a show of her strength.

“Hey, bug. Missed you last night,” he says when she steps back.

“Missed you too. Did you see me catch the ball in the outfield?”

She’s so hopeful, there’s nothing to do but lie.

“Sure did,” he says, and she beams. One of the teeth next to her incisor is loose, and she tongues it, making it wiggle.

“Another loose tooth?” Patty laughs, pulling Cricket into her arms, pretending to munch on her neck in an effort to earn some giggles. She’s wildly successful.

“Look!” she grabs the tooth and twists it crooked just like she’s been doing all week. And like all week, it’s disgusting. We groan and laugh.

“You’re gonna be tooth fairy rich,” Patty says, booping her nose.

“I’m saving it for new markers.” Cricket’s proud, her eyes sparkling behind her glasses. They shine a spark brighter when she looks behind us. “Trent!” she squeals and takes off between our chairs, bolting for the parking lot.

A cold tingle works its way down my spine, my permanent smile not so permanent after all. I don’t know why—he looks perfectly harmless when he scoops Cricket up and hugs her, setting her on his hip while they head toward us.

When I glance back at Wilder, I find him with a dark look on his face, his eyes shadowed and jaw set.

That. That is why the hairs on my neck are at attention. Wilder looking dangerous because Trent showed up unannounced.

Cricket’s grossing him out with her tooth when they reach us. Patty and Paul seem unaffected, greeting him fondly. I put my smile back on and say hello. They all look so normal, like they’ve been doing this for years. Because they have. They’ve known Trent since he was a teenager, an honorary member of their family. Including the unspoken, unofficial role of Cricket’s father.

Discomfort wriggles around in my guts, cinching them when I hear Wilder’s voice from my elbow.

“Trent.” The word is tight but trying for friendly, and he extends his hand as he says it.

The warmth on Trent’s cheeks cools. “Davenport.” He clasps Wilder’s hand, and I can practically see the combative power of it.

Wilder’s jaw tics, his eyes on Cricket, who is chewing on the end of one of her braids, oblivious

“Hey, bug,” Wilder starts. “Why don’t you go get your mask and glove and head out to center.”

“Okay, Daddy!”

Trent’s face gives him away, tight with disdain. Cricket wiggles in Trent’s arms, and when he puts her down, she runs off to the dugout hollering Bye! over her shoulder.

Wilder doesn’t follow. He’s squared up to Trent.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” he says.

“Didn’t know I had to clear it with you.”

“I’d appreciate a heads up. I keep asking but nobody seems to listen.”

“Paul told me about the tournament, said I could come.”

“Well, Paul’s blessing isn’t the one you needed.”

Trent’s nostrils flare, but it’s Paul who speaks first, his glare locked on Wilder.

“Wilder—that’s enough. You can’t police who comes to her games.”

Remy and a couple guys have pulled up behind us, and Wilder’s dad Buck is leaning over the rail, glaring at Paul. Wilder is furious, but he somehow contains it, with great strain.

“Paul, you are not my father. Don’t talk to me like you are.”

“We have had this conversation?—”

“And you said you’d tell me when he was coming around.”

Trent takes a menacing step toward Wilder. “The hell they will. I have every right to see her.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t have any rights when it comes to her.”

Trent shakes his head. “What’s your deal, man?”

Wilder’s eyes tighten, narrowing. “My deal is that I don’t trust you. My deal is that you’ve been accused of?—”

“I didn’t do it,” he answers darkly.

A pause convinces Wilder not to push it. “I feel for you, I do?—”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“—but you’re not her father.”

Patty sucks in a breath. Trent freezes, his eyes sharp and fists tight at his side.

“ I changed the diapers,” he starts. “ I rocked her in the middle of the night when she was sick with a fever. I was there when she took her first steps and said her first word and skinned her knee for the first time. It was me , not you .”

The words visibly sting Wilder. “Because all of that was taken from me. You were there, and she loves you. And that’s the only reason I let you see her at all.”

“ Let me?” Trent scoffs.

“ Let you,” Wilder repeats. “I don’t know you, and I’m not convinced you’re not dangerous. So the least you can do is tell me when you plan to see her. If you want me to trust you with her, that’s the way to start. Showing up unannounced like this has me feeling like you might be a problem.”

“ I’m the problem?” he says, lunging for Wilder, and all of the men around us seem to move at once to get between them. Remy and Greyson grab Trent by the arms, Tate in front of him, trying to soothe him as he thrashes, shaking them off once they’re a bit away. Patty and Paul are at his elbows.

“Come on,” Paul says, turning him around and guiding him backward by a hand on the shoulder. “Let’s step away for a second and cool off.” He shoots Wilder a look before they walk him out of earshot.

Worried, I glance at Wilder. “You went a little hard on him, don’t you think?”

The pain in his eyes when he looks at me breaks my heart. “Not one of them will listen to me. Not one of them has said a fucking thing to ease my mind—all they’ve done is fan the fire. This? Him just popping up without telling us?” He shakes his head. “This doesn’t help. This makes it worse. This makes me more suspicious and more angry because nobody respects me enough to do this one fucking thing I asked for. I thought I’d earned that at least, but…here we are.”

“ Hey, Coach—we need you in the box ,” one of the other coaches calls from the field, and Wilder turns, acknowledging him.

With his face tight, he kisses my crown, but before he can get away, I grab him around the waist, pulling him in for a hug.

“Ten second hug,” I declare, and he sighs, wrapping his arms around me. It takes five of those seconds for his body to begin to relax, and by the end of the ten, he sighs again. But this time it relieves what’s left of the pressure in him.

Before I let him go, I rise on my tiptoes for a kiss, and he leans to grant my request.

“I love you,” I note. “Get your head in the game.”

One side of his mouth tilts. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a swift kiss, he’s gone. I’m proud of him for only glaring a little bit in Trent’s direction.

Ten second hugs always work.

I pretend like I’m busy, moving things around while sneaking glances at the Wilsons and Trent. They seem to have calmed him down, though he definitely does not look happy. In the end, he turns and heads back to the parking lot.

Guilt scratches at me, and when the Wilsons approach, they don’t look happy either. Paul especially.

“I’m sorry,” I say before they get a word off.

Patty worries her lip, watching her husband with her brows drawn.

Paul fumes. “I don’t like this, Cassidy. I don’t like it one bit. It’s not fair to keep him away like this.”

“I know,” I assure them. “Wilder’s doing his best, but the situation is…” I sigh. “It’s complicated at best. You must know Trent well.”

“Since he was fifteen,” Patty says.

“I wish we knew him better, and outside of everything that’s happened. Although given that they both dated Ashley, I don’t know if they’d ever be friends.”

“No, they’d never be friends,” Paul admits. “I love the boy like my own. Maybe that’s why I can’t believe he’d…” He swallows hard. “I just don’t think he had anything to do with anything. He’s always had a hot temper—it’s why he and Ashley were off and on like they were. But he means well. His heart’s in the right place.”

I nod. “So is Wilder’s. All he wants is to protect us, and Trent is…well, he’s intense, Paul. He shows up unannounced. He’s possessive. And we’ve been caught off guard. I’m sure you understand, right? If Wilder behaved like Trent does, and you didn’t know him at all, would you be worried?”

Paul hesitates, but in the end concedes. “I wouldn’t want him anywhere near Cricket.”

“We’re all in this together, okay? But if you could give us a heads up before he sees Cricket or shows up, it would help a lot. We can get used to the idea in private so this doesn’t happen again.”

“You’re right,” Patty says, patting Paul’s arm. “She’s right.”

He sniffs, almost pouting. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

Satisfied, she says. “And this is why we’re still married.”

With a combined chuckle, the tension eases, and we take our seats to watch the first game.

But I worry Wilder won’t shake it.