Page 12 of Wild Card

He chuckles, and my spine tingles. “No. To blow off some steam.”

I glance back down and nod. “Rough day?”

“Rough week.”

“Those are the worst,” I reply, curious but not feeling comfortable enough to ask him what happened. That seems bold, even for me.

Bash shakes his head. “Found out I have a kid I never knew about. Met him for the first time yesterday.”

I stop breathing for a few seconds before pushing myself upright and groaning. The heartache in his voice is downright palpable, and I feel sick for a man I barely know. “Fuck meee. And you just let me fumble around all over the place with that awkward joke about kids?”

Bash straightens, and I’m struck by his height. Not only does he have that heavy set to his shoulders that comes from hours of manual labor, but he’s also got to be well over six feet.

“Different things.” He shrugs, the ghost of a smile still dancing over his lips. “He’s twenty-four.”

I blink. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah.” He grimaces. “Oh shit.”

“Listen, I’m no mathematician, but that means you were?—”

“Fifteen and in high school? Yeah. Haven’t seen her in decades, but I ran into her brother at a fundraiser, and he let it slip.”

“And she never told you? That’s just…”

Some evil bullshitis what I want to say. I’m not even living the story, and it’s a punch to the gut. But looking at his face makes it so much worse. I see it now. He’s not just tired and grumpy.

He’s grieving.

He sniffs and looks away. “We were both fifteen and clearly stupid. I was the kid from the wrong side of the tracks, and shewas very much from the right side. It sounds like her family played a heavy-handed role in sending her to a private boarding school. They even moved to a different city. I remember that day like it was yesterday. I showed up for class and she was just gone. Broke my fucking heart.”

I want to say that she’s known for twenty-four years, which is plenty of time to make it right. But I don’t. I settle on a weak “I’m so sorry.”

His gaze slides over to mine. “What’s that saying again?When life gives you lemons?”

I tap a finger against my lips. “Hmm, I’m not familiar with that one. The only one I know isWhen life gives you limes…”

His lips turn up in a faint smile as he nudges his shoulder against mine. Sensing we’re nearing the end of our ride, we both turn to face the spot where we dropped our bags. There’s something ominous about it. It feels like we’ve been living in a happy little bubble and the moment we step off this conveyor, reality will come crashing back down on us.

In silence, we draw nearer. And I find myself counting down.

Three.

Two.

One.

With a heavy swallow, we step onto solid ground. We reach for our bags, pulling ourselves back together after what feels like a shared moment of insanity. When I’ve righted myself, I finally look over at Bash. He’s staring at his watch. “I’ve only got about an hour,” he says.

“Is that all?” The words come out softer than I intend. It seems like the night went by in a flash, and a heavy weight settles in my gut over the impending cutoff.

I don’t want tonight to be over yet.

“Yes. Only an hour to ask for your number.”

My eyes snap to his, red-rimmed and clearly tired. “Me playing chase on the moving walkway didn’t scare you off?”

He shoves a hand into his pocket and pulls his phone out, hitting me with a gravelly “Not at all.”