Page 29 of The Other Side of Wild
“Where do you get off?” I snap, my anger boiling like a pot of pasta water. “It’s clear you’re not going to tell me what you said so thatIcan fix it, but fear not.” I jab my finger in his chest. “Her “terrifying pixie of a roommate” is our team's physical therapist. So I’ll just go ask her. But know this, Tate. Hannah is really special to me; she’ll be part of my life whether you like it or not. And in whatever position she decides she wants to take.”
It’s one thing to be anti-women in your own life; I get it. His ex almost ruined his life, and he’s been on some ‘all women are evil’ campaign since. But his problems aren’t my own. To be frank, I’m tired of him pushing them on me.
“She’s not a gold digger; she’s not using me.” I spit every syllable like acid on my tongue. “When I told her about my depression, she said, and I quote, ‘You aren’t exempt. But you also aren’t alone.’ She seesme.So get it through your head that Iwanther around. She doesn’tjudge me; she just lets me be and gives me support in whatever way she knows how. So I’ll only tell you this once. Get on board or get out of my way.”
I turn my back on him, rage flowing through my veins. I don’t know if it's the situation or the melting pot of everything else that’s been eating at me, but I’m freaking done.
But apparently, I’m not out of things to say. I whip around and level him with my big brother glare. “Your problems with women areyours.Don’t push them on me. And certainly don’t push them on to Hannah. She isn’t Nikki or Kara. You’d realize that if you actually took five minutes to talk to her.” His jaw drops before I spin on my heel, jogging to my car.
Now I have half an answer; I need to go talk to Abby. Maybe she’ll be able to figure out how to get Hannah past this. I’m sure as heck not giving up. Not now. Preferably, not ever.
The loud hollow sound my knuckles make as I wrap on Abby’s office door frame makes me cringe. Her head snaps in my direction; a sad smile pulls at her lips. “Hey Dozer. What’s up? Is this an official visit or an off-the-record one?” Her head nods, giving me permission to enter. I sit on the table across from where she sits at her desk.
I lace my fingers together and put them in my lap, my feet swinging like a five-year-old kid. For as angry as I was on the way over here, I sure am nervous now. “I need some help.” She chuckles; it’s light and filled with pity.
“She’s scared, Wilder.The last thing she wants is to come between family members. She’s doing what she’s always done, throwing herself into her work. Trying to perform her way out of her feelings. Prove she’s good enough.” She pushes her laptop to the side, folds her arms over each other, and leans forward. “Your brother is a jerk.”
The smile that spreads across my face is so big it hurts. “He is; I just surprised him at practice and didn’t get much out of him other than ‘I may have had something to do with it.’ Oh, and he thinks you’re a terrifying pixie.” Her head falls forward as she cackles so loud it echoes down the hall.
Shaking her head, she looks back up at me, “She’s stubborn as a mule. She’s got it in her head that you guys won’t work. So if you think otherwise, you’re going to have to prove her wrong.”
“But how do I do that when she won’t talk to me?”
“You’re smart, Wilder. Get creative.” Is all I get before the office phone rings, effectively dismissing me. Creative? Alrighty then.
I can’t breathe; I can’t even see straight. I don’t know how I ended up here at midnight on Tuesday, eight hours before I’m supposed to be on the plane to Washington. But here I am, standing outside Hannah’s door, mid-panic attack. It’s really more of a lean because both arms are braced up against the door frame to keep me from collapsing into it.I’m sure this isn’t what Abby meant when she said. “Get creative.”
I hear Harley on the other side; she’s whining and scratching at the door like she knows I’m here. I can’t say anything; my words don’t work. My head hits their door with a loudthud.A hushed “Oh my God” is heard from the other side before it swings open. “Greyson! Hey, are you okay?” I can’t get my body to move.
Sensing my sudden lock up, she steps out, holding the door open with her hip. She peels my right hand off the door frame, placing it around her shoulder as she grabs the left. Dang, this woman is strong; she’s all but dragging me to the couch. She sits me down, lowers my top half down to a pillow, and then swings my legs up so I’m lying flat. “Give me a second; I’m not leaving you. I’m just going to get a cold towel for your head.”
Harley has been right by me since the door opened. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. My eyes are moving, and I’m aware of where I am, but I feel completely paralyzed. It’s like my body knows I’m somewhere safe and finally gave out. My breathing is shallow, and I feel like I could fill a bucket with sweat, yet I’m shaking like I'm naked in an ice rink.
My furry companion puts her head on my stomach, and I’m so thankful she does because it’s helping to ground me. I focus on that sensation and beg an arm to move so I can pet her. It doesn’t, but luckily, Hannah comes back. She climbs behind me, places the towel across my forehead, lifts up my head, and places it in her lap.
“Hey, Dozer, I’m here. I know your mid battle royale right now and that’s okay. Just focus on my voice; I’ll tell you all about my day.” She runs her fingers through my hair while simultaneously telling me about her day, how she took Harley to the groomer, and how she threw a fit because she hates the water. Then, we moved on to some of the last-minute changes to the carnival and how everything is currently being set up. By the time she gets to the smutty romance novel she’s reading, my body decides to cooperate.
“You’re reading a pretend book about a hockey player when you have a real one right here?” Her face breaks into a smile; her eyes glow as she looks down at me.
“Welcome back, Mr. Wilder. What do you need?” She whispers in the sultriest tone I’ve ever heard from her. Her voice wraps around me like the finest silk on the planet. It’s softer and warmer than it is on a normal day. It feels like coming home, like the guiding light pulling me out of the darkness.
You. I need you. “Yeah, I’m back, Kitten.” I roll to my side and put my hand over her thigh, rubbing my thumb over her knee. “Thank you for talking to me through that; I’m sorry for showing up here so late. Or early, depending on how you look at it.”
She leans over the top of me so she can see my eyes, “Don’t ever apologize for asking for help. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Why you’d leave?” She reaches over the back of the couch and grabs her cup off the side table.
“Do you need some water? It’s flavored; if you don’t want that, I can get you regular water.” Taking the cup from her, I take a few large gulps, immediately feeling less clammy.
“Thanks. But stop deflecting.” She moves her hand to my shoulder and starts to run her fingertips from behind my ear to the top of my arm. I’ve come to realize it’s her go-to method for comforting me.
“Is that what caused this panic attack?” The regret in her voice is heavy and I wish I could take it from her.
“Not entirely...” Deciding I’ll give her a few minutes to get her thoughts together, I tell her about the bigger picture behind the anxiety I currently have.
“I can’t get past the feeling that something is going to go terribly wrong during this trip. Kara hasn’t stopped; I’ll be changing my number as soon as I get back.” I try to convince myself that she’s still trying to play mind games with me, not actually trying to get back together.
“To be completely transparent with you, I’m having an extremely hard time loving the game of hockey right now. My head isn’t in it; it’s focused on whatever plan she might have while I’m there. That’s a feeling I’ve never felt before, and it’s terrifying.” I mean that, there’s never been a time in my entire professional career that I’ve felt this way.