The Simple Wild (Wild 1)

“That’s not fair.”

“None of this is fair,” he mutters, sliding his hands into his pockets, his gaze wandering to the nearby planes.

“Are you willing to give all this up and move to Toronto to be with me?”

His jaw tenses, and he curses under his breath.

“You know I’m right.”

“Yeah. I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He looks at me with those light, piercing eyes, and I nearly lose my resolve. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you to stay.”

I take a deep, calming breath. “Maybe you could come visit me, sometime?”

He sighs with resignation, his eyes dropping to the gravel in front of us. “Yeah, I don’t know when that’ll be. Someone’s got to keep Wild going until this deal closes. That’s not for another two months.” He kicks a stone with his boot. “And I told Aro I’d help them run things. Make the transition go smoother.”

“How long will that take?”

He shrugs noncommittally. “Who knows. It’ll take as long as it takes.”

I nod. “So then maybe after.”

“Maybe.” He finally meets my eyes.

And I have the distinct impression that it will never happen. That time and distance will wear away at our feelings for each other, leaving nothing but stark reality and fond memories.

And that’s probably all we were ever meant to have.

“Hey, Jonah! Calla!”

We both turn to find Billy standing there, with a wide, oblivious smile.

I swallow again. “Hey.”

He reaches for my suitcases. “I’ll throw these into the cab for you.”

“Thanks.” I check my phone. “I should get going. My flight is in less than two hours.” And if I stay here any longer, I’m afraid I won’t get on that plane.

Jonah pulls me into a fierce, warm hug that I let myself sink into one last time, cataloging the delicious feel of his strong arms around me and the intoxicating scent of his soap and him, though I’ve long since memorized it.

“We both knew this was never going to be easy,” I hear him whisper.

“Yeah, I guess. I just didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

The sound of Billy’s boots dragging along the gravel nearby steals the private moment away. “You know where I am if you need me,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse, as he pulls away, peering down at me. His thumb brushes against my cheek, and I realize that I’m crying.

“Sorry.” I try to wipe the streaks of black mascara off his shirt, but only rub them in more. He quietly handed me my cosmetics bags this morning when I was packing. They’d been hidden in his attic, all this time.

With a sharp inhale, he seizes my hand in his and holds it still for a few beats against his chest—against h

is heart—and then he breaks free and marches away, hollering, “Safe flight, Barbie!”

“You, too, you big angry yeti!” I manage to get out, my words cracking with sorrow.

I linger another moment, to watch him climb into his plane. To remind myself that in the long run this is the right choice.

I linger just long enough that my heart shatters fully.

And then I head home.