I have to get my shit together before I walk back out there. Or at least enough that I don’t stop and throw her over my shoulder and carry her the fuck out of here.
Not giving a single fuck who witnesses it.
Blowing out a breath, I curve my fingers around the porcelain sink, my eyes dropping shut.
Five more seconds.
That’s all I’m giving myself to let all these stupid fucking emotions knot me up the way they are.
That’s it.
Then I’ll bury them down with everything else.
The doorknob jiggles again, and I’m about to tell them to fuck off when the door flies open and Maisie steps inside.
Fuck me.
CHAPTER 43
MAISIE
I knewsomething was off the moment Wilder stopped in front of our table.
I know him well enough at this point to spot the tense set of his jaw, the taut pull of his muscles like he was physically restraining himself from… something.
I would’ve assumed it was Bennett that affected him, but it couldn’t have been.
It wasn’t until right before he stormed off that Bennett made that ridiculous comment, and I could see the anger flash in his eyes. Anger that was already there.
Whatever is wrong happened before he spoke to us.
I elbowed Bennett in the ribs so hard that he folded himself over the table as Wilder stormed off, and then I waited.
Chewing the corner of my lip nervously, I tried to wait an appropriate amount of time before I made an excuse to use the restroom.
When that time came, I forced myself to casually make my way down the hallway and into the bathroom.
Lennon probably saw right through me. There’s a part of me that wonders if Saint and Bennett have any idea of what’s going on, if they’re suspicious that I took off to the bathroom onlyminutes after their coach did, but then there’s another part of me that doesn’t really care.
All that I can seem to care about is whatever upset Wilder, being able to ask him what the hell happened to make him act that way and assuring him that Bennett was just playing around.
I suck in a deep breath before swinging open the bathroom door to the men’s room and slipping inside. I shut it, then press my back against it, reaching behind me to flip the lock, the sound echoing around us.
Wilder’s bent slightly over the sink, his knuckles blanched white from the force of gripping the chipped porcelain. There’s something tumultuous, like heavy, low-hanging clouds before a storm, swirling in his eyes as they flick up to mine.
Our eyes meet through the mirror, and a shaky breath spills out of me.
“What the hell, Wilder?”
My words are barely above a whisper, but I don’t know how to tread. He looks filled with both fury and frustration.
And honestly, I’m not sure what’s worse.
His chin dips as he hangs his head, the broad muscles on his back coiling tight beneath the fabric of his shirt.
He’s quiet for so long that I think maybe he didn’t hear me.
But then a low, humorless laugh erupts out of him, and he slowly turns to face me.
