The Simple Wild (Wild 1)

My dad is settled into his recliner in the living room. He turns away from the baseball highlights on the TV to peer over at me. “How’s our guy doing?”

Such a simple question and I’m hit with a sudden wave of guilt. “He’s asleep. He took some pills that knocked him out.”

“I’ll bet he needs the rest. That was quite a day.” My dad covers his mouth against a bout of coughs.

“Are you feeling okay?” I noticed he was coughing through dinner, too.

He waves it off, clearing his throat several times. “Shouldn’t have been running through fields, is all. So . . . did you two get a lot done tonight?”

“A little bit. He passed out pretty fast.”

“You were there for a while.” There’s something odd in his tone, something I can’t pinpoint.

I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s almost eleven. “I also fed Bandit and then . . . spent some time checking out books.” I stumble over my words, averting my gaze as my cheeks flush, hoping he can’t read me well enough yet to know that I’m hiding something. But I can’t bring myself to admit what I just did to Jonah.

What if my dad says I went too far?

What if he’s disappointed with me?

“Find anything interesting?”

“What?”

“The books . . .” His gaze drops to my empty hands.

“Oh. No, I’m not a big reader. Anything good on TV?”

“Nah. I just threw it on for a bit. I was sitting outside on the porch for a while tonight. You and Mabel sure made it look good. Brought me back a few years.”

“Wait until the sun goes down.” We had enough strands of old Christmas lights to crisscross the ceiling twice over.

He sighs and, hitting the power button to cut the picture, tosses the remote to the side table. “Maybe tomorrow night. Today’s excitement wiped me out.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired, too.”

His movements are slow as he pulls himself out of the chair, collecting his dirty mug. “You sure you’re okay? You seem a bit . . . jittery.”

“I’m fine. Hey, what time are you going in tomorrow morning?”

“Probably the usual. Before six, anyway.”

“I should get a ride in with you since Jonah won’t be going anywhere.”

He chuckles. “A few stitches across his forehead won’t keep him away from Wild, even if he can’t fly yet.”

“Right. Okay.” Great. I press my lips together.

My dad gives me another curious look. “Well, okay then. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yup.”

He spots the two suitcases sitting in the doorway by the kitchen. “Hey! Told you they’d turn up!”

“Yeah, they turned up alright,” I mutter under my breath. Do I tell him what Jonah did? A part of me wants to tattle on his golden boy, but a bigger part wants to hear Jonah’s bullshit reasoning myself first.

Besides, this is between him and me now.

My dad frowns. “How’d they get here, anyway?”