Page 35 of River Wild

The anger and pain and hurt have swallowed you up completely, and there’s nothing left but emptiness.

He’s felt pain. He knows what it’s like.

He’s like me.

I feel a jolt inside my chest and a sudden connection to him that I’ve never felt with anyone before in my life.

He blinks, and when his eyes reopen, they’re back to hard and closed off. No emotion in them at all.

It makes me wonder if what I just saw was real. But I know it was. Because I felt it. As I feel my own hurt.

He’s trying to shut me out. But it’s too late. I’ve already seen him.

And he’s right. People are selfish C-U-Next-Tuesdays. I married one after all.

But only some people, not all.

“You’re right,” I say to him. “Some people are selfish C-U-Next-Tuesdays, but—”

“C-U-Next-Tuesdays?” He barks out a laugh, cutting me off.

I roll my eyes again. Twice in the space of ten minutes. If I keep this up, I’m going to end up with a headache. “As I was saying,” I haughtily continue on, “some people are selfish you-know-whats, but not all are. And I’m sure you can figure out what I meant by C-U-Next-Tuesday.”

“Hate to burst your bubble, Red, but all people are selfish. And I got the weird acronym, all right. I’ve just never met anyone who went so out of their way to avoid saying the word cunt.”

“I don’t know why anyone would want to use it. It’s a horrible word.”

“I think it’s one of the best and most versatile words in the English language. Same as fuck is. Funnily enough, fucking cunt is my favorite saying.”

Ugh. If the jerk could smile, I know he’d be smirking right now.

“Seriously, do you have to be so crass?”

“Yes, Red, I do have to be so fucking crass.”

Do not roll your eyes. Do not roll your eyes.

“And please stop calling me Red. My name is Carrie, which you know, of course, because I told you it—well, yelled it at you two weeks ago, from my porch, when you blatantly ignored me.”

River doesn’t say anything to that. Any normal person would at least be embarrassed at being called out, like I just called him out.

But he’s not normal.

Of course he’s not.

All I get from him is a devil-may-care shrug, and then he casually slips his hands into his jeans pockets, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Jerk.

Deep breaths, Carrie. In and out.

“Right, well, we’ll be off then,” I state huffily, more than ready to get away from him and into some dry clothes. Then, I need to figure out what I’m going to do with my little buddy here.

I spin on my heel, ready to walk across his garden and back to mine through the gap in the fence, when his voice stops me.

“Where are you going?”

I look over my shoulder at him, giving him a stupid look. “Home. You know, the house next to yours.”