Page 10 of Wild Card (Rose Hill #4)

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m going to anyway.

So listen up. Just because you got horny at fifteen and that kid has half your DNA, it doesn’t mean you need to let him treat you like shit while you constantly beat yourself up over his existence.

And for what it’s worth, when doomsday hits, he’s not invited to my bunker. But you are.”

Then, with a firm nod, he slams the door, leaving me feeling a mixture of amusement and—strangely—affection.

Bowling is a success.

For once.

And I suppose that’s why West dragged us all to Rose Hill Reach to celebrate with “the girls” as he calls them. Rosie, Skylar, and Tabby have paired off with my teammates, which firmly makes me the seventh wheel of the friend group.

What started as a casual bowling night with West and Clyde has become a hell of a lot more organized.

Over the past several months, we’ve picked up two more regular members—ones I don’t hate.

Ford, West’s childhood best friend, and Rhys, a stray that our local bistro owner dropped off one day.

Don’t know much about the guy, but I like him a lot.

He’s not annoying, and he doesn’t ask a bunch of questions.

We’ve struck up a friendship that mostly consists of rolling our eyes at West and exchanging to-the-point text messages.

He reminds me of my friend Emmett, a professional bull rider on the WbrF circuit. He travels a lot, so we don’t see each other often, but when we do, we just pick up where we left off.

Now and then, I get a message from him that says, “You still alive?” I give it a thumbs-up. And then, a couple of months later, I’ll check the standings on the WbrF website and give him shit for not being number one. I get back a “fuck you,” and I also give that a thumbs-up.

It’s a solid relationship in my books. And much like Emmett, Rhys keeps things simple—something I like about him.

The guys walk in ahead of me but draw up short once they get inside because Doris, the owner of the Reach and longtime bartender, calls out, “Last question. It could be a tiebreaker since we have two teams with the same number of points right now. What is a group of unicorns called? A herd, a flock, a blessing, or a rainbow?”

Ford’s brows knit together as he whispers, “What the fuck?”

“Oh, a blessing. Duh,” West says with an eye roll.

I shoot him a scornful glare, which only makes him laugh.

“You’re just mad you were thinking rainbow, aren’t you?”

I sigh. “You’re an idiot.”

“A happy one,” West volleys with a wink.

He bounces on the balls of his feet like a boxer, craning his neck as though he’ll be able to make out the answer from here.

“I swear Skylar knows this one. She’s got this.

When did they start a trivia night? And why does it have to conflict with bowling? This would be so fun.”

I cross my arms. “This would not be fun.”

“Rosie would kill me if we started crashing girls’ night,” Ford adds.

West doesn’t seem put off at all, though.

Shaking my head, I turn and take in the bar, gazing at the massive floor-to-ceiling windows facing the lake.

If it weren’t already dark, I’d be able to see the water, the mountains, and the floating dock that serves as a patio in the summer.

Inside, the lights are warm and sporting goods plaster the walls for decoration.

At each table, groups of four huddle together with a bunch of tiny pencils and small scraps of paper littered between them.

Beside me, Rhys stares at his wife, Tabitha. He’s already an intense guy, but when his gaze lands on her, that intensity ratchets up even further. Just watching them makes me feel like I’ve stumbled into something private.

It hits me with a pang in my stomach. Makes me realize all the domestic milestones I’ve missed out on in my life.

Not because I’m averse to them, but because I’ve been thwarted at every turn.

To avoid any further rejection, I’ve turned my focus to my career, and now it’s like half my life has gone poof before my eyes.

Watching these boys makes me feel like I’ve missed out on something integral. Something I don’t know that I’ll ever have.

It’s feeling like that ship has sailed.

“Who’s that?” Ford asks, though I don’t pay him any mind. He’s new in town and still learning the ropes. I’m too lost in my head to pay much attention to what the guys are saying. Until one single sentence out of Rhys’s mouth stops me in my tracks.

“That’s my yoga instructor, Gwen.”

My head snaps toward the table, and my gut drops to the floor beneath me. Because, sure as shit, there is Gwen from the airport.

Tripp’s Gwen.

Sitting at a table with my friends.

In my town.

The guys rib Rhys about doing yoga, but I’m frozen, mind racing with why she might be here. What she’s playing at. Why this keeps happening to me.

My heart races uncharacteristically. I’m too fucking old for this shit.

My molars grind against each other as I watch Gwen stand to let Tabby back into the booth.

As Gwen slides in beside her, the guys head over there, and my feet move to follow, even though I’m dreading facing her again.

Especially after my meltdown at Tripp’s party.

I stand stiffly as introductions are made, Gwen smiling graciously each time. That captivating twinkle in her eye takes me back to gazing at her over too-sweet margaritas. Then, the moment I’ve been bracing for arrives when Tabby gestures in my direction.

“Gwen, this is Bash.”

My lips turn down as I realize I don’t know how she’ll spin this. How are we supposed to explain that we know each other? The last thing I need is the guys knowing this much detail about the cosmic joke that is my personal life. The silver lining is that Clyde isn’t here tonight to spill the beans.

Gwen glances up at me from beneath a thick fringe of lashes, that plush mouth just slightly parted as she nervously tucks platinum hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, actually… We’ve met.”

I can’t tell if it’s just me or if the entire bar suddenly becomes quieter.

Rosie, Ford’s fiancée, goes wide-eyed, already sinking her teeth into the moment like a dog with a bone.

She’s a force to be reckoned with—I know because she’s bargained with me, talking me into taking offseason contracting jobs I didn’t need.

If she starts sniffing around, it’s only a matter of time before all the dirty details of my and Gwen’s missed connection will come spilling out.

“You have?”

Yeah. Rosie sounds far too intrigued for this to be safe.

So I opt to jump ship.

“Yup,” I reply brusquely, trying not to cave under the weight of everyone’s stares while also trying not to gawk at Gwen. “Good to see you again. I’m going to head out. You kids have fun.”

And with that, I flee.

Like the down-bad coward I am.