Page 63 of Wild Card

“Unannounced?” I ask and then add a wink, hoping to hide the thread of defensiveness in my tone. Because I’m instantly swallowed by guilt.

He chuckles good-naturedly. “I don’t know, man. It felt more casual this way. No pressure or whatever. I’m trying, okay? Kept thinking that I’d be there for my parents so…” Tripp trails off,trying to cover his wince. “I know we don’t know each other all that well, but… It’s cool for me to check on you, right?”

Parents. A term I’m not included in and one I’m not so sure I deserve after the way I’ve been behaving. “Yeah, totally cool.”

Except I just told your ex to come watch me next time I jerk off, so anytime except right now?

“Can I come in? Or, like, take you for a coffee? I don’t know what you’re up for. But I got a room in town for a couple of nights. Figured you’re probably still recovering, so I wanted to make it as easy for you as possible.”

Easy? There is nothing easy about having to explain to him that his ex is living at my house—has been for weeks—and I chose not to tell him when I had the chance. I think about Gwen, sipping coffee in the kitchen, and my chest tightens. One part of me is relieved he’s here, talking to me. The other part is dreading having to explain.

His wide, earnest eyes get me right in the heart. He’s here,trying. And I’m fucking it all up. Again. I open the door wider and step aside, ready to give a vague and inaccurate explanation of what he’s walking into. “Listen, you should know that?—”

“Okay, you are taking way too long…” Gwen says as she rounds the corner into the foyer before freezing midstep when her eyes land on Tripp.

Fuck.

Tripp goes rigid on the front doormat, arms limp at his sides as he eyes her. “Gwen?”

She just stares at him like a deer in the headlights—round face pale, full lips slightly parted, even her eyes look colorless in this moment.

“Tripp?”

Tripp’s head tilts. “What are you doing here?”

His gaze darts to me, more in confusion than accusation.

“That’s what I was about to explain to you,” I start in, wanting to explain this away as quickly as possible. “Gwen randomly ended up in town because she took over the yoga studio here while the owner was away. But then she met Clyde—the man I donated my kidney to—and started helping him out with tasks while he was sick. He moved in here after the surgery, for better proximity to the hospital, so she came with him. To take care of him.”

I suck in a breath when I finish my long, overly wordy explanation. I worry it sounded awkward. Because itwas.

“Sorry.” Tripp’s eyes shift between us, finger flipping back and forth. “You guys are living together?”

“Yeah.” Gwen waves a hand dismissively. “But barely. Ships in the night and all that. I just asked Bash to grab Clyde’s meds from my truck so I could organize them and wondered what was taking so long.”

I know she’s lying. But she gives nothing away, other than possibly smiling just a little too brightly. Then she steps around us like we’re in her way and reaches for her key chain on the wall near the front closet. “I’ll just do it myself. You two have fun. Just pretend I’m not even here!”

With that, she waves over her shoulder, slips a pair of slides on, and slinks out the front door.

Leaving me to deal with Tripp.

Tripp, whose bewildered eyes stay glued to Gwen as she hustles down the driveway.

“I wasn’t expecting to see her, and now it’s like… Coming face-to-face with her makes me think I should try again. You know? I still feel like maybe there’s something there.”

I sit across from my estranged son, sipping a soda water I don’t even want just so that I have something to do with my hands. And my face. Because I can barely look at the kid.

He spent the day around the house, and I showed him my property. Hell, I even took him out to the airstrip, pulled out my old plane, and went for a rip.

I didn’t know what else to do with him, but after the odd phone conversation about my job as an aerial firefighter, I do know boys like planes. And the ride was a hit. The picturesque valley-and-mountains view stretched below us, and he seemed genuinely impressed. Maybe even a little in awe over what I do.

But now we’re at the Reach, having a drink and a bite to eat, and he’s unloading on me like I’m a trusted confidant.

About Gwen.

Guess I did a little too well at the dad thing today because, after months of bare-bones communication, he seems eager to tell me all kinds of stuff.

For example, his unresolved feelings for the woman living under my roof. The one who watched me beat off while thinking about her less than twenty-four hours ago. His ex-girlfriend. The one I told to ask next time she wants to watch—mere seconds before he knocked on the door.