Page 24 of The Other Side of Wild
She wraps her arms around me and whispers, “Love you, sister.” I tip my head and rest it on hers, a warmth passes through me as I realize how lucky I am to have the friendship with her that I do.
Once I get the two fully grown toddlers to stop fighting, we hop in Greyson’s white SUV and head to the Wilder’s childhood home. The drive is scenic; they live on an intercoastal waterway. It’s beautiful, and is one of my favorite parts of the area.
The palm trees are tall and green, wind swaying them gently from side to side. The sun is in the perfect position to bounce off the water just right so that it looks like twinkling stars. My mom used to call that phenomenon “kisses of the sea.” Smiling to myself, I take it all in. There’s musicin the background, and Grey is talking a mile a minute; Tatum just grunts or nods his head, and me. Well, I haven’t said a word, but every few minutes, I see Greyson checking the rearview mirror to make sure I’m okay.
He pulls the car into a circular driveway; I start to ask if we’re in the wrong place. But before I can, he’s out of the front seat and opening my door for me. What a gentleman. The house is beautiful. It’s a white stucco two-story house; in the middle of the house sits gray double doors with frosted glass, and there are matching gray shutters on the windows on the bottom floor.
The driveway is large and made of cobblestone; two large planters filled with pink and purple flowers sit at the beginning of the walkway to the door. Before I can dwell much longer, the door swings open, “Hi guys!” A woman calls from the threshold. I watch her as we start our walk from the car to the door that she’s running out of.
“Oooof!” Tatum grunts as she runs straight into him. “Sheesh, Ma, let me breathe.” He pulls his mom's arms from around his neck.
“Oh, hush.” She swats at him as she turns to me. “Hi, you must be Hannah.” Her smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes; my stomach drops at the thought that she doesn’t like me already. Not that she should; I’ve never met the woman. I just don’t do well with disapproving parents.
“Yes, ma’am.” I offer her my hand, and she shakes it; I relax the tiniest bit. “It’s nice to meet you. You raised wonderful men, Mrs. Wilder.”
“Mrs. Wilder makes me sound ancient. Please, call me Amy.” She turns from me and gives Greyson a hug before looping her arms through both her sons. I stand there and watch as they walk into the house. I feel so out of my element. This is part of healing, though, isn’t it? Getting comfortable with the uncomfortable. With that in mind, I follow behind the trio, praying I can make it through the day without embarrassing myself.
The inside of the house is just as beautiful as the outside, with tall ceilings and walls in the whitest shade of white I’ve ever seen. Floating shelves sit above the fireplace in the living room; two soft gray couches face each other with a coffee table in the middle. To the side is the kitchen. All white cabinets have matte black accents; they’re modern but still classy. Straight to the back, the sliding glass doors are pushed all the way to the side, opening the house to the backyard.
A huge pool with enough lounge chairs for half the hockey team looks so inviting. To curl up on one of those with a good book.What a dream.There’s an outdoor kitchen equipped with a grill, pizza oven, and a full-size fridge. Before I can admire it any further, I’m pulled into a hug.
“Hannah, I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing for the local kids. You don’t know how much it means to me personally.” My eyes burn, and my nose tingles because I quickly realize I’m wrapped in the arms of Mr. Wilder. Not only that but I’m also being hugged by a dad. I don’t remember the last time my dad hugged me.
Clearing my throat, I try to keep my voice steady. I rest my head on his shoulder since my arms are pinned to my sides, “Of course, Mr. Wilder, they deserve every opportunity to chase their dreams.”
Pulling back, he looks at me, seeing my watery eyes, his widen in shock. “I didn’t mean to upset you; I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Holy cannoli, a hug, and an apology; I have to be dreaming. This isn’t actually happening.“Son, I think I broke her.”
I hear him say as he releases me and steps back. My brain is malfunctioning and my mouth feels like I swallowed an entire bag of cotton balls, and it suddenly seems like the world is moving at a snail’s pace.
“Kitten?” I bring my gaze up to the side of Mr. Wilder and see the twin expressions of concern on their faces. I take a few deep breaths to try to steady my breathing and keep the tears at bay. I probably look like a lunatic. Sheesh, Hannah, get it together.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t upset me. You just caught me off guard. I, uh, I don’t think I’ve gotten a hug from my dad since I was in middle school.” Well, that did it. I’m sandwiched between them both in seconds.
My skin is crawling; I need to get out of here. I am so uncomfortable. This is why I always prefer driving myself; I can leave whenever I need to, like now. But I’m stuck. I take a deep breath, trying to quell the sob stuck in my throat, and then Greyson whispers, “It’s okay; you’re safe here.” And suddenly, the dam breaks. Choo-choo, a one-way ticket on the Hot Mess Express, please. No one says a word; they just form a cocoon of comfort, one in which I’m in no rush to leave.
How embarrassing; this is the first time I’ve met three of the four people here, and I’m straight-up sobbing. I’m never going to live this down. With the mortification of the situation settling in, I focus on calming my breathing, which in turn helps me stop crying. I eventually stand up straighter and they let go in unison.
“Well, that was embarrassing; sorry about that.” Greyson and his dad both have a look of sympathy on their face, but over their shoulder, Tatum is staring witha glare that could slice through an iceberg. His mom is nowhere to be found. Unease runs through me; I get the sense they don’t want me here.
Wiping at the stray tears, I plaster a smile on my face and try to salvage the situation, “Well, this wasn’t how I thought today would go. But I guess it can only go up from here.” Walking into the kitchen, I turn to Amy. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Want to make margaritas for us?” I arch an eyebrow; what an odd request for ten o'clock in the morning.
“Sure. Where’s the tequila and lime?”
“I’m just kidding; I already have it made. I wanted to see if you’d actually do it. The last one wouldn’t.” What does that mean? Turning my head to Greyson; his eyes are wide as he stares at the back of his mom's head. He doesn’t look at me, though. I’ll pocket that for later.
“Congratulations. You passed initiation.” Tatum’s eyes roll, then meet mine with a menacing glare, his voice dripping in annoyance. This guy is starting to give me a complex; what the heck could I possibly have done between meeting him a few hours ago and now to make him so annoyed? His dad pops him in the back of the head while his mom focuses on pouring olive oil over the salad.
“Are you okay?” I ask Greyson, who hasn’t moved in about two minutes.
“Walk with me?” His eyes are distant, not focused on anything. His voice sounds different, robotic almost.
“Sure.”
He throws his arm around my shoulder as we walk down a path on the side of the house, making it to a sidewalk that leads out of the neighborhood. As we walk,he leans more of his weight on me, slowing us both down.
I look up at him, and it’s like I’m looking at a wall instead of the happy-go-lucky Greyson Wilder I’ve come to know. The crease between his brows is pulled tight, his jaw is clenched, and he’s still staring off into space, somewhere far away in his mind. When I turn my attention back to where we’re walking, I audibly gasp. There, about 500 feet in front of us, is a red and white lighthouse that looks just like the one on my nightstand.