Page 19 of Worth Your Wild

I knew the speech was coming. It hurts all the same. Hurts worse, because now the words have been spoken out loud. They sit in the air like a stain.

A surprising sense of calm comes over me. I’m not sure where it comes from. But I’m a different girl than I was last night, before I came to this bed. I’ve shed the secret I’ve been walking around with ever since I could remember. This strange and confusing desire to make love to a man I once considered a father figure. To have him explore my body and take pleasure in it. In me. Whatever shame or insecurity I had about Deke has evaporated.

I felt his body erupt inside of mine.

I watched him grow consumed by lust. For me.

In the absence of my shame, there’s confidence.

I’m not going back.

Deke wants to push me away? I’ll go. But I’m not above making him suffer.

“A one-night stand is fine with me,” I say, climbing out of bed and dropping the pillow, leaving myself naked in the sunlight. “I learned a lot about myself. Things that are going to be valuable in the near future, you know?”

He shoves the hat back down on his head. “Meaning what?”

I find my panties on the floor and slide them up my legs into place, before I go searching for my jeans. There. I put them on, too. “Meaning the things I learned about myself in bed with you last night will help me communicate more clearly in future relationships. What I need. What I expect. Et cetera.”

Deke’s head turns very slowly, his narrowed eyes finding me over his shoulder. “What kind of a game are you playing right now?”

“No game. I’m grateful for the experience.” I cross the room topless into Deke’s eyeline, noticing the instant drooping of his eyelids and the way his fingers clench together until his knuckles are white. “Wow. How did my bra end up all the way over here?”

He levels me with a frown.

“What?” I twirl the bra around my finger. “Did you think I was going to cry and plead to be your girlfriend or something?”

“Or something,” he grits out.

I loop my arms through my bra straps and quickly fasten the garment into place, swooping down to pick up my shirt in one hand, boots in the other. “Sorry to disappoint,” I say, pivoting on a heel and leaving the bedroom. As soon as Deke can no longer see my face, hot moisture crowds unwanted behind my eyes. I walk faster toward the exit. Before I can open it, a hand smacks down on the door, barring my escape. “What are you doing?” I complain without turning around. “We’re getting back on the road soon and I need to shower. Move.”

His hands settle on my shoulders, turning me. Panicked, I struggle in his hold, not wanting him to see my face. In the end, Deke is too strong, though, and he gets my back up against the door, his fingers tilting up my chin just in time to catch a tear rolling down my cheek. “Goddammit, baby,” he rasps, catching it with the pad of his thumb.

I push against his chest, but he doesn’t budge an inch, the jerk. “I was trying to make it easy for you!”

He shakes his head, his expression troubled. Regretful. “I don’t need it to be easy.”

“Why couldn’t you just let me walk out of here with my pride? Is this fun for you?”

“No. God, no.” He cradles my face in his hands. “June, I’m not commitment material. You deserve someone younger who is a whole lot less cynical and angry at the world. Not to mention, I drink enough to sink a cruise ship…and I’m not sure I can stop. I would make you fucking miserable.”

“I didn’t ask you for a commitment,” I manage, chest aching.

“You’re not the kind of girl who has to ask. It’s just a given.”

“Not with you, I guess.” I’m immediately annoyed with myself for saying that, because it sounds whiny and immature, so I tack on, “Someday I’ll find someone who will want to commit to me. Hopefully they don’t mind me calling them Daddy.”

His eyes are instantly icy, his jaw bunched.

That powerful chest of his heaves up and down as he leans in close, his minty breath washing over my face. “You and I both know you’ll never be able to call another man Daddy, June Bug. That’s something that’s between us and no one else.”

He’s right. I know he’s right. Still, I shrug. “We’ll see.”

This time, when I push him away, he allows me enough space to leave with my purse and luggage, watching me escape through glacial blue eyes.

I have a good, long cry in the shower, then I set about repairing the damage with concealer and some cream blush. Mascara. I crouch down in front of my open luggage considering my options. I want to wallow in a hoodie and jeans, but instead I opt for a short, fluttery floral skirt and a strapless white top. My cowboy boots complete the ensemble. While I would love to twist my hair up into a bun, I leave it loose and wavy.

For a girl who’s just been given The Talk by a man she’s obsessed over from afar for years, I suppose I look pretty good.