by E. M. Moore
Stone takes a seat next to me on the cushion and gestures toward the open couch next to Wyatt. Cole sits there, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Despite the tattoos and earrings, his leg jumps up and down, betraying the badass bravado I’ve seen from him since the beginning. He hasn’t come here with his entourage of gang members either. It’s just him—open and vulnerable. If I’m honest, it’s exactly what I expected of him.
He holds his clasped hands in front of him, his knuckles bouncing off his lips until he lets them fall forward. “I want to get one thing out of the way first since you’re probably the maddest about this. Yes, I killed the man you knew as your father, and I won’t apologize for it. I came to Clary to kill him and he deserved it. But when I read how he raised you in the file I had compiled about you, I wanted to make him suffer before he took his last breath.” His jaw feathers, knuckles turning white. “Clark Wilder was a sick son of a bitch. The only thing that stopped me from torturing his ass was what it might do to you.”
I narrow my eyes, inspecting Cole’s every movement, but Stone’s not having any of that. “Why?” he blurts.
Well, there goes our plan of letting me talk.
Cole ignores him, his eyes pleading with mine, and I’m sure he can read how badly I want to know, but he’s waiting for me just like I asked. I take a deep breath and try to muster all the courage I can. It’s time to put on the armor I’m used to. I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of a story. I lean into Lucas to steal some of his strength. “Why did you kill him?”
Cole twists his fingers together, his movements so harsh it looks as if he could snap his own bones. “Nineteen years ago, Clark Wilder and his wife stole you from a loving family.” He nods toward my lap. “There are baby pictures of you in that box. You had a brother who loved you, a mother and father who cherished you, a family that was devastated when someone else’s selfishness took you from them.”
I suck in a breath, mind whirring. Ever ready to deal with anything, Stone steamrolls ahead. “Are you saying Dakota was kidnapped?”
Again, Cole doesn’t even glance at Stone. He doesn’t appear to care that any of them are here. His eyes are plastered to mine, letting me decide what I want answered first. “Who are they?” I ask, voice shaky. My whole body trembles. Lucas is trying his best to calm my nerves, but I can’t stop the tremors wracking my body.
Cole looks away, and I swear on my life, the badass gang leader’s eyes are glassy with emotion. “I didn’t know your real parents,” he answers softly. “I knew your brother.” He clasps his hands together until his knuckles turn white. “He was my gang brother. We weren’t blood, but it damn well felt like we were. We joined the Dragons at almost the same time. He was just a kid—” He clears his throat and glances back at me. “His parents—your real parents—are dead. Your mother killed herself on what would’ve been your tenth birthday. She couldn’t handle your loss anymore.”
My heart squeezes, agonizing over a woman I never knew, but I can’t help the longing that builds for the woman who birthed me; for the woman who loved me so much that she couldn’t live a life without me.
How could I not know these people existed? “And my real father?” My voice wavers. The numbness I’ve been dragging along behind me like a lead weight is long gone. I’m feeling everything now.
“Your father died when Charlie was seventeen. You would’ve been fifteen. He told me it was of a broken heart. Hospital records,” he says, pointing to the box, “confirm that it was of a heart attack of an otherwise healthy man.”
I take in several deep breaths to slow the rapid degradation of my ability to process everything. The perimeter wall I’ve built keeps crumbling and crumbling. Every time I find sure footing, another rock slips out from underneath me.
“My brother’s name was Charlie? What happened to him?” Cole closes his eyes. A shudder rips through him, and in this moment, I feel connected to him. He’s feeling for a brother I never knew, and in this, tendrils are pulling us tighter and tighter together. Weirdly, the only connection I have to a family I never knew is in this gang banger. I get to my feet, carrying the box with me, and make Wyatt move over so I can sit next to Cole. I put my hand over his. “Tell me what happened. Don’t leave anything out.”
Cole places his free hand over mine, and it shakes too. “We were on a mission for the leader of the Dragons at the time. Shit went south, and your brother didn’t make it, Dakota. He was shot.”
His jaw tenses, and he grieves for the friend he once had. It bleeds from him, ripping through his tough guy façade until it’s spilled on the floor at our feet. I can internalize the grief for someone I didn’t even know but this was a real person to Cole. His friend. His brother. My heart aches for him more than it does for me in this moment.
“He loved you, baby girl.” Cole shakes his head as if he can will away the emotion taking control of him. “He talked about finding you all the damn time. I knew the whole story inside and out. Anyone who was close to him knew; it’s all he ever talked about. The only thing he wanted was to find you. For himself. For your parents.
“His suffering became mine, and when he was bleeding out in that rat-infested hotel room, I made him a promise. I told him I’d find you and that I’d make the fucker who took you pay. I sent him to heaven with that knowledge, and you’ve been my number one priority ever since. That’s why I killed Clark Wilder. I witnessed my friend’s pain every single fucking day. I heard what it did to his family, and I saw with my own eyes the toll it took on him. I wasn’t letting Clark get away with that.” He pauses for a moment, the fierceness in his gaze returning as easy as a flip of a switch. “After Charlie died, I made it my mission to bring you home.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands. My mind is so full of questions that I can’t process one because another pops into my head right after it. Cole squeezes my hand that’s still engulfed in his. Wyatt’s touch skirts up my back, rubbing along my spine. “Why did they take me?”
Cole drops his hold on me, his face an angry red. He’s transitioned fully from the mourner to the violent person he is. “They found out they couldn’t have children. I think you can guess the rest, knowing how important family legacy is to the Wilder treasure. Clark couldn’t stand for it to end with him. He needed a child, so he took one. He brought you back to Clary where he lived like a hermit. He hid you with hope that you’d never be found. He changed your name, he didn’t take you to the doctors—hell, he barely took you anywhere. He did everything in his power to keep you hidden so no one would ever come looking for you. As far as everyone in Clary knew, you were his—if they ever thought of you at all, that is. Most people weren’t aware you existed until you showed up in Kindergarten, and that’s because you didn’t. At least not as Dakota Wilder.”
Different facets of my life slot together like some fucked up version of Mad Libs. Let’s take the most outrageous thing someone can think of and fill in the blanks of Dakota’s life. The worst part of it all? I can see my father being so desperate to do what Cole is accusing him of. It all makes perfect sense. The man made me promise to have kids. At the time, I understood it on a basic level, but now it makes so much more sense. He was speaking from experience. He made me vow to have kids so that the crime he committed didn’t fail. He wanted to keep the Wilder line going. Above everything.
“I feel sick,” I croak as my stomach sloshes. Everything my father said and did to me is now twisted into a new meaning I couldn’t have imagined. To know he wasn’t just a hermit who didn’t like people but someone who was actively trying to hide me makes my stomach roll and squeeze in bouts of nausea.
Lucas leans forward. “You’re turning white.”
I shove the box into Cole’s arms and run for the closest bathroom. There, the tears finally release as well as the lies coiled up over the years. I expel it all into the porcelain toilet, eyes burning, body shuddering. I wretch and wretch, an exorcism of the life I’ve lived, and I can’t help but wo
nder what will be left when everything comes up.
This isn’t a case of wrong paternity—my mother loving another man and my father stepping up to take care of me in his place. No, this is something far more sinister. Not only am I not a Wilder, I’m not anything I believed I was.
Footsteps sound behind me, and I peek between my curls to find a pair of foreign sneakers next to my knees. Cole kneels as a tremor racks my body. He rests his forehead against my back and runs his hand up and down my spine. “Charlie was my brother, and now you’re my sister. I’ll protect you with my life, baby girl. I can’t help this part. You already know how I feel about being the smartest person in the room. It’s going to suck. It’s going to hurt. But when it’s over, you’ll come out the other side stronger. I promise.”
4
The house grows quiet. After Cole left hours ago, I told Wyatt, Lucas, and Stone that I wanted to be alone to process things. The box with all the proof Cole could find sits unopened on my dresser like a siren’s call. Every time I focus on something else, it keeps pulling me back. The hardest part about looking at the contents of that box will be knowing that it wasn’t my life. Not even close. My body buzzes; my mind pulling in all different directions, glitching in the most extreme way. Should I be upset? Do I mourn the family I never had? Or do I mourn the father who raised me even though he may have done a shitty job?
I’m numb when it comes to Clark Wilder, but it doesn’t mean I hate him. I can’t. I hate what he did. I can be pissed as hell and want to kick his ass up the Superstitions and back, but I can’t hate him.
And that part pisses me off. It makes me want to scream into a void because that’s exactly where I am right now. No up or down or backward or forward. I’m living in a state of nothingness.
I heave my pillow at the dresser, taking my anger out on the box. The pale wood skids across the top with the brunt force of my throw before coming to a stop on the edge, half teetering over. I groan in frustration because that actually did nothing to help the feelings ratcheting through me.
Stepping out of the room unburdens my heart a little. I walk down the hall until I get to Wyatt’s door, and I knock quietly. He opens it sans cowboy hat, and I marvel at how different he looks without his favorite accessory.
“Hey, Tits, how are you?”
He steps back, and I follow, closing the door behind me. I lean against it. “I needed some space from the box.”
The corner of his lips turn up. “And you came to me?” A smile overtakes his face, filling me with warmth.
“I came to you, cowboy.”
“Well, what kind of fun could we possibly get into to take your mind off shit?” He stalks toward me, each step a tease that I came here for. Already, worry has lifted from my chest piece by piece like the billowing of a dandelion’s petals on the wind.
I bite my lower lip. “I was thinking...maybe a little skinny dipping? I haven’t skinny dipped in a pool yet.”
His blue eyes flash a sexy, dangerous taunt that has me turning the doorknob at my back and running down the hall, leaving him to chase me. Wyatt’s quick footsteps close in as I shove the glass door aside and step out onto the cement patio still warm from the day’s heat.
I whip my shirt over my head and work my shorts off next. Standing there in my bra and panties, I watch Wyatt pull his shirt over his head, his abs stark in the moonlight. I unclasp my bra, slipping it off my shoulders and letting it fall on my discarded clothes as Wyatt stutters to a stop, gazing at me with a torrid heat that tells me everything he wants to do to me.
I shimmy my silk panties down my legs, slipping them past my calves before I’m completely naked, watching Wyatt finally disrobe the rest of the way. He doesn’t hide his semi-hard cock, letting it bob proudly. Courage builds inside me, a strong, feminine power that tells me I at least have control over some things. I may have lost some strength, but at my core, I still hold cards. Little by little, I feel myself start to piece together again.
I step toward the stairs. Gripping the railing, I lower myself into the warm water that caresses my heated skin until it laps against my thighs, and then hits my navel.
“I don’t know if I’ve said this to you enough,” Wyatt starts, swallowing, “but you are so damn sexy.”
I don’t know how he knew I needed to hear that in this moment. Goosebumps sprout over my flesh, hardening my nipples. He moves to the side of the pool and dives in gracefully. Neither one of us turned on the pool lights, so I don’t see him again until he starts to break through the surface. His dark hair plasters to the crown of his head as he emerges and wades over to me. His pecs are brilliantly taut and athletic, and I take my fill unabashedly.
“Why did you come to me, Dakota?” Wyatt probes, head turned in a way that his curiosity shines.
That’s an easy answer. Stone would’ve fucked me senseless after trying to get me to talk, and I’m not sure I’m ready to make the physical leap with him yet with the miles of baggage between us draped in wedding flowers and lace. Lucas would’ve held me, which also would’ve led to a good fuck, but the silence afterward would’ve made my mind wander right back to what’s plaguing me now. Wyatt, however, is the one who could bring a smile to my face. The one to play with, make me feel normal for a little while. “Because cowboy…” I blink, trying to memorize him like this. “You make me happy.” A smile teases my lips. “Somehow, you always know how to lift the stains from my heart.”
His lips part in the most beautiful picture. For a hot second, we just stare at each other until a slow grin spreads over his face. “And here I thought you were going to say something about finding me irresistible.”
“There’s that, too,” I admit, basking in what he does best. I’ll never hold back the feelings these three give me. Not from them. Not from me. I shrug, giving him a teasing stare. “Or maybe I just felt bad because you’ve been so jealous of all the time I’ve spent with Lucas.”
He throws his head back and laughs, as carefree as anyone I’ve ever met. I admire that about him. I used to think of his laughter and joking as a façade, and maybe they sometimes are, but maybe they’re not that at all. It’s possible Wyatt is stronger than any of us. To have emerged from the ashes of tragedy and set fire to the world in his own way—his teasing smirks, his smartass comments, his ability to bring joy into not only my life but others’…. That’s a fucking gift that I want, a gift that people need.
“Do you know how to do a handstand in the water?”
“Considering the first time I’ve been in a pool was a few weeks ago? No.”
“Well, get ready, Tits, because you’re about to get a lesson in pool games.”
First, he shows me how to go underwater without plugging my nose. That takes more time than I’d like to admit, but then we launch right into handstand training. The fact that we’re naked doesn’t deter me. It makes for a tremendous view, and I’m sure if anyone saw us splashing around in the pool like a bunch of kids, naked, they’d want our heads examined, but it’s exactly what I needed.
I dive into the water, placing my palms on the concrete floor. In the past, I might’ve been scared, but I’ve pretty much been through it all at this point, right? A little pool handstand isn’t going to take me out. I don’t get my feet up the first time, but the second time, I do. It’s surprisingly easy when you’re not worried about plugging your nose.
Wyatt smacks my ass on my fourth attempt, and I yelp underwater. I splash back down only to come up to swipe my hand against the surface of the pool to soak him. “Wyatt Longhorn,” I scold.
“Please, you liked it. Besides, I couldn’t help myself. Your ass is goddamn perfect.”
I roll my eyes and playfully shove him back. “What else can you teach me?”
“Somersaults?” He dives into the water, uses his hands to flip himself in a circle, and comes back up.
I tilt my head. “This is what kids do for fun in the pool?”
Wyatt shrugs. “Pretty much.”
I do as
he showed, but I turn sideways and have to break the surface to catch my breath. “Okay, that’s harder than a handstand.”
He winks. “We’ll try diving next.”
My heart thumps in my chest, letting all my cares go away and concentrating on the somersault. I dive into the water like he did the first time and windmill my arms around. I break the surface with a huge gulp of air. “Was that it?”
He makes a face. “Kind of.”
I groan and try again. This time, I push off the concrete bottom and launch myself forward, making the flip easier. I come up for air with a smile on my face. I know I got it that time.
Wyatt high fives me before tugging me close and laying a huge, smacking kiss on my cheek. “Killin’ it, Tits. You ready to try diving?”
I step toward the side of the pool and pull myself out. Rivulets of water stream down my body, and Wyatt pauses to stare before hoisting himself out after me. “You know this is killing me, right?” He steps close, hands coming up to cup my breasts, fingers tracing my hardened peaks.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” I promise, moving further into his touch.
“Just being here is worth everything.” His husky voice speaks volumes, and I know if I’m not careful, I’ll get swept away with what my body wants to do.
I place my hands on his hips. “You promised me a diving lesson.”
He groans but steps away, walking backward toward the deep end. His toes grip the edge when he turns. “I learned on the side of the pool first. It’s easier than starting on the diving board. The first thing you do is hinge at the hips and fall forward.” He shows me, entering the water with his hands straight out in front of him, cutting through the surface smoothly.
He swims toward the ladder and climbs it until he’s standing next to me on the concrete again. Positioning himself behind me, he’s too close to be anything but a tease. He bends me over at the hips with a strong hand down my spine, then tugs me back against his thickening cock. My ass cups him, and my pussy floods with want. “Hold your hands out in front of you,” he instructs. “Let yourself fall and try to bring your legs up behind you when you do.”