Forever Starts Tonight (Wilder Family #4)

Chapter 20

Popppy

When I was little, I told my dad that hurting people’s feelings made my stomach feel like it was flipped upside down. It was in fourth grade, and I invited a couple of friends for a sleepover. But there was a girl in my grade who heard about it, and I saw her crying on the playground the next day. The rest of the school day, I was sick to my stomach, that this perfectly nice little girl had her day ruined because of something I’d done, even if it was unintentional.

We had her over for a playdate a few weeks later, but I’d never really forget the look in her eyes when I saw her crying, never forgot what it did inside me knowing I’d caused it.

I had that same feeling sitting in the family room watching Dean dry the last of the dishes, even though my mom told him he didn’t need to help.

Resting my chin on my hand where it sat on the back of the couch, I thought about that girl in fourth grade. Whether she ever really forgave me. Or if she still thought of me as that girl who didn’t invite her for a sleepover.

The muscles in Dean’s back shifted when he set the last of the glasses into the cupboard to the right of the sink, and I tilted my head as I watched him move with ease in my mom’s kitchen .

“You’re quiet over there,” he said, still not facing me. “What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

The bridge of my nose burned before I could stop it—a bad sign for the upcoming conversation. Before I answered, I took a few deep breaths and willed it away.

“A lot of things,” I answered honestly.

Dean slung the towel over his shoulder and finally turned, leaning back against the counter while he looked across the room, gauging the expression on my face. Whatever he saw had him sighing deeply.

“I, uh, got a little carried away after dinner, didn’t I?” he asked sheepishly.

My smile was fleeting. “A little.”

Dean blew out a breath through puffed-out cheeks, then tossed the towel onto the counter and came to join me on the couch. He sat opposite me, easily pulling my feet toward his lap so he could dig his thumbs into the arches like I liked.

“That’s not why we need to talk,” I told him.

Dean was quiet, and I loved that he never rushed to say something, even in the quiet. He was thoughtful and good, and my heart ached that I couldn’t feel more for him. That the touch of his hands and the simple act of his nearness didn’t set me on fire.

“I feel like I’m losing you,” he said quietly. His eyes didn’t meet mine at first, and I watched him with a growing sense of understanding of how we’d ended up here. How, for months, we both settled into a comfortable rhythm in an uncomfortable situation.

Dean was driven and smart and kind, and he liked the fact that I wasn’t fawning over him. I wasn’t trying to tie him down. And for me, Dean was the kind of safety net I’d never had before. But we both deserved better than that.

“Dean,” I said quietly.

He pinched his eyes shut as I pulled my legs back, because honestly, his foot massages just might sway me not to say what I needed to say. “Poppy, I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time.”

“I don’t expect you to be perfect.” I smiled. “Lord knows I’ve screwed up so much in the past few months.”

Finally, he looked up, and I was surprised to see the pain in his bright blue eyes. “It was harder than I thought,” he admitted. “Seeing this guy that you…” He paused, searching for the right words. “It was easier when there was no one for me to picture.”

I looked down at my lap, staring at my intertwined fingers. “I know.”

He eased forward, tugging my hands between his. “I can work on this, Poppy. I don’t have anything to prove to that guy, and I just forgot my head a little bit when we were playing football. It felt like … like everyone was comparing us all night.” The earnestness in his eyes was almost my undoing. “Like you were too.”

I didn’t know how to answer because it was so hard to admit that I might always do that.

What did it say about me that I couldn’t dislodge this one tiny thing from the deepest parts of who I was? That I couldn’t dislodge the idea of one person from the core of my being?

“I don’t think it’s fair for me to pretend Jax being back doesn’t change things,” I told him carefully. “It’s hard for me in a different way.”

Dean swallowed thickly. “How?”

I blew out a slow breath, pulling my hand back to run it through my hair. “When he was gone, it was like … I could pretend that I was this different version of myself. The girl who moved on,” I said in an emotion-choked voice. Dean’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt. “And I wanted to move on. I promise you, I did.”

In the silence that followed, Dean nodded slowly. “But you can’t. ”

“I told Jax that I want us to be friends, and I mean that.” My throat felt locked tight with regrets and frustrations and the weight of the absolute chokehold that man had on me. “But it’s not fair for me to put you in the position of being my safety net.”

Dean’s brow furrowed as he processed that silently. “Is that what I was?”

“Not always,” I answered honestly. I shifted forward, my thigh resting easily on his while I cupped his face. “You made me feel beautiful and wanted, and that’s exactly what I needed when we met. You made me feel like it was possible to move on. I have loved our time together.”

Dean gently wrapped his hand around my wrist and pressed a soft kiss to my palm. My fingers curled up helplessly when he rolled his forehead against my hand. “Is that time over?” he asked.

There was no point beating myself up anymore for not feeling the right things for him because there was no right or wrong in any of this. We were all just doing our best, and the worst thing I could do was string him along. Use him to hide from the things I didn’t want to feel.

“I think it has to be.”

He deserved better. So did I.

If I expected my family to take me seriously, then I needed to act like an adult and do the hard thing. The thing that didn’t feel good, leaving me open to a different kind of vulnerability.

His eyes went a little red, but he didn’t tear up. I did, though. Dean rolled his lips together and studied my face. “I knew this was coming the second he got out of that truck.”

“Why?”

“You looked embarrassed that I kissed you.”

Shame had me dropping my gaze. “I’m so sorry.”

“But I made you feel safe?” he asked. “Before that, I mean. ”

Slowly, I nodded. Dean brushed a thumb along my cheekbone, dragging it down my jaw to my chin. His hand eventually dropped back down into his lap, and I knew that was probably the last time he’d touch me.

“If he’d been home this whole time,” Dean said, “would you have stayed with me this long?”

There was a look in his eye, the kind that told me he already knew the answer. So did I.

The first tear fell, and as I brushed it away, I got that feeling—the weightless, uncomfortable turn of my stomach flipping in on itself.

If I were in my bedroom, with that chipped mirror on the wall, I wouldn’t want to meet my own gaze because it was horrible to face the consequences of such a deep-rooted thing inside you. The kind that caused pain for someone else.

But no matter what, he deserved my honesty.

“Probably not,” I whispered. “And I know how unfair that is. How unfair I’ve been.”

Dean sat back on the couch and tilted his chin up to stare at the ceiling.

“I should go,” he said, standing up as he did. I pushed off the couch, ready to walk him to the front door. His next words stopped me though. “I hope being friends with him is worth it.”

“What do you mean?”

Dean shook his head. “I think no matter how this plays out or how badly you want to be friends with him, Jax will break your heart.”

“You don’t even know him,” I said, brows furrowing.

Dean smiled softly, and somehow the kindness and understanding in that smile made it so much worse. “I used to be just like him. Running from anything serious. Ready to bolt when things got too hard. Couldn’t let myself settle into anything.” He paused before he opened the door. “You’re too smart to keep waiting for him to change. ”

All right then. So there’d be no sweet hug or beautiful shared tears over the experience we had over the past four months. It was a parting shot that struck somewhere deep, clanging and clanking as I swallowed it down.

I set my jaw and held his gaze. “Goodbye, Dean.”

He let out a deep breath and slipped out the door. I sank onto the couch and speared my hair with my hands, elbows braced on my thighs. The baby did a small flip, and I glanced down, one hand coasting over the front of my bump.

“Hopefully, you’re in the mood for some more pie because we are gonna need it.”

Standing from the couch with a groan, I tried to decide how much longer I could get away with eating my feelings. At least a couple more months because if there was one excellent thing about pregnancy, it was those extra calories per day.

If I wanted to fill those calories with a bag of Sour Patch Kids the size of my face, there wasn’t a person in the world who could stop me.

Mom’s bedroom door cracked open, and her head poked out. “Can I come out? I wasn’t eavesdropping, I promise.”

I really needed my own place.

Still, I managed a smile. “Yeah. He just left.”

As she left her room, she tied the ends of her fuzzy blue robe around her waist, the one she wore every morning and every night. “You okay?”

“I don’t know.” I yanked the covered pie tin from the fridge. Eyeing the two generous slices left, I opened the drawer in the island and pulled out two forks. “Want some?”

She eyed me carefully. “I think I’ll let you have the rest.”

“Wise move.” There was no need to cut myself a piece because we both knew I’d be finishing that pie. Stabbing a bite with the fork, I narrowed my eyes and took a slow bite, thinking about what Dean said on his way out. “You know what’s bullshit?”

Mom pulled a stool out and took a seat, watching me demolish another bite of pie with a slight smile on her face. “No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

I gave her a brief rundown of the conversation, and she listened without interruption.

“And what part of that is the bullshit?”

“The bullshit is that last parting shot about how I’m too smart to think Jax will change.” I dropped the fork in the aluminum pie tin and set my hands on my hips. “I never said I expected Jax to change. I’m not begging for his attention, but it’s like my feelings for him are a reflection of some weakness on my part. A character flaw that I should apologize for.”

Mom sat back, her eyebrows rising slightly as she gestured for me to continue.

“How many books have we read or movies have we watched where the hero pines for the heroine, and there’s no one for him but her? It’s so romantic and swoony, and we celebrate it,” I said fiercely. Oh yeah. I was worked up now. Pregnancy hormones flashed hot, and if someone gave me a mic, I would’ve brought the freaking house down preaching this to anyone who would listen. I waggled a finger in the air. “But if the woman can’t get a man out of her head, it’s sad . She’s too smart for that.”

Her eyes were wide, but she chose not to interrupt as I paced the length of the kitchen.

“The insinuation is that she’s being stupid for feeling those things in the first place! And it’s bullshit, Mom. Misogynistic bullshit.” I set my hands on my hips, my breaths coming in short, embarrassing pants. God, what a mess I’d be by forty weeks. Maybe I should start working out again if a little angry rant got me out of breath. “It’s like no one believes I can actually be friends with him. That I’m still sitting back hoping he’ll fall in love with me.”

Mom’s face softened. “And just to be clear, you’re not?”

“No,” I said firmly. “Breaking up with Dean was the right thing to do for many reasons, and only one of those reasons is the way I felt about Jax. But those feelings don’t make me weak or stupid or silly.”

She leaned forward, eyes fierce. “No one thinks you’re any of those things.”

Something was comforting about hearing my mom come to my defense so thoroughly. It didn’t matter that she’d always done that with us and loved us so deeply that she always wanted to see the best in us.

Beyond that, everyone knew Sheila Wilder would call us on our bullshit so fast, it would make our heads spin. But she wasn’t calling me on this, which meant—unfortunately—I might have to call myself on it.

Hurt my own feelings. Just a little bit.

The words clawed their way out, past my flip-flopped stomach and a throbbing chest. “Maybe I worry those things are true about me,” I said, voice hardly more than a whisper.

In the following silence, I worried that I’d admitted too much, that I should have kept that locked down tight, but Mom let out a quiet sigh. “All you kids are so different, you know? It kept our life interesting when your dad and I first got married. Six little people with huge personalities in one house, and juggling that was hard enough before we added you into the mix.”

Slowly, I took a seat, the raw honesty of the conversation draining a little bit of my righteous indignation.

“I don’t know if I added anything exciting to the mix,” I said ruefully. “I’m just … me.”

“That’s because we have a big family, kiddo, and it’s easy to get lost in the mix when you’re not an extreme personality.”

“Great. Does this mean I get lumped in with Ian and Greer?”

She laughed. “No, Ian stood out because he was openly distrusting, and it never bothered him to let people see it, but once you get to know him, he’s a giant mushball.” She paused. “ Greer is … occasionally terrifying,” she conceded with a slight tilt of her head. “And always wonderful.”

I grinned reluctantly. “They all are.”

“Cameron, though,” she added quietly, her eyes warming immediately at the mention of my other brother—the one she loved as if he was her own. “He got lost in the mix too, I think.”

I nodded, chest tight as I thought about the way he quietly took care of everyone when Dad was the most sick. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was the glue. “He did.”

“You’re a lot like him, you know.” Her eyes traced over my face. “You think about others before you think about yourself. Adaline, too. You three would be the people on an airplane who ignored directions and helped little kids with their masks before putting your own on because you literally wouldn’t be able to stop yourself.”

I leaned forward. “I always thought that would be impossible. What if I have some cute little old lady next to me who can’t reach her mask?”

Mom laughed. “The way you love your people blows my mind. All of you kids. But I think something is extra special about the quieter ones who love so fiercely.” Her eyes glossed over with tears. “You will be such a great mom, Poppy. Not once since all this started have I ever doubted that. That second we found out, I knew you’d move heaven and earth for that child because that’s what good parents do.”

My eyes might’ve been a little wet too. “I had really good parents to learn from.”

She swiped at a tear on her cheek. “Who your partner is someday is not what will make you great at this, Poppy. That’s your heart, sweet girl. You see straight to the core of who people are. Like when you meddle with your siblings because you have this radar for what will make people happy, it’s deep in your bones.”

“I wouldn’t call it meddling,” I hedged .

Her eyebrows rose slowly. “You literally dropped Harlow off on Ian’s porch with no way to leave so they’d be forced to see each other.”

With a wince, I sank into my chair a little. “Okay, well that might have been a teeny bit meddlesome.” Then I brightened. “But look how that turned out! They’re married, and Ian is so much nicer now.”

“He is,” she admitted with a grin. It faded to something softer. “I don’t think you should be so hard on yourself for any of this, Poppy.”

“Are you kidding me? Being hard on myself is what’s justifying all this pie.”

She laughed. “Breaking up with someone good is a rite of passage. Just consider this a merit badge for your twenties.”

“Being an adult is wild,” I said. “I had Froot Loops for dinner last night, and I just earned a hypothetical prize for dumping the biggest catch in town. Where does the excitement end?”

“Oh, don’t worry, this family will always have something keeping us on our toes.”

I patted my stomach. “I have us covered for a while.”

With a hum, Mom leaned forward to snag a bite of my pie. “I have a feeling you’re not the only one,” she said with a meaningful look in her eyes.

On a gasp, I leaned forward. “Who?”

“Harlow, I think.” She grinned. “Saw Ian touch her stomach after dinner and give her a kiss.”

I glanced down. “See? Now you’ve got a cousin your own age. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Maybe I’ll have enough grandkids coming where I won’t need to buy some goats to keep me busy,” Mom mused.

After scooping the last bite of pie, I let my fork fall with a clatter into the pie tin. “Great. Just what this family needs. Some fucking goats in the mix.”

Mom and I shared a look, then burst out laughing.