Page 245 of One Wild Wish

She twisted her fingers together. My insides corkscrewed into a violent knot.

“You’re part of the reason I’m going to meet my father,” she went on. “I want you with me when I knock on his door. If he’s amazing or awful, I want you there. Which means we need to find him today, before my birthday and your flight. And I didn’t mention it, but my mom wrote that she’d scratched her name into a bench at Fisherman’s Wharf. The one by the Alcatraz booth? A romantic etching, you know, using his last name instead of her own—cute teenage hopes of marriage or whatever. If it’s still there, and the bench hasn’t been cleaned up or replaced, it’s all we need. I’ll be able to find him.”

She took one step back, then two. Her cheeks glowed brighter. “But not before I brush my teeth and tell the girls about our night together.”

Her departing wink was equal parts fun and naughty, exactly what I wanted for our last day, but my heartbeat became sluggish. My posture sank. I watched her slip into her building, disappear down the corridor.

I stood. I stared. I nearly retched.

If Gwen’s mom had scratched Mary Mercer into that bench and Gwen traced it to her father’s house, I couldn’t return there and continue this lie, pretend I hadn’t talked with his widow. That would be relationship suicide, and I never believed Gwen would get there. Not in two days. But the possibility of her discovering that last name, the coincidences that had led us here…

This had the potential to go very south, very fast.

I could derail her search, beat her to that bench and scratch out his last name if it was there. It wouldn’t be hard.

It would also be active sabotage. No way was that happening. That left telling Gwen the truth, confessing I was the reason she’d never meet Ted Mercer.

Another impossible option.

* * *

“August!” Jimmy growled from behind me. “Slow the fuck down before I have a heart attack.”

My thighs screamed with each long stride, my pounding feet reverberating in my skull. I’d hoped my run with the guys would give me clarity, an option beyond my two excruciating choices. All I had was a side cramp and smarting shins. Sweat dripped off my forehead.

I slowed to a jog, my lungs working harder as I lost momentum. My chest felt ready to rupture. A session with my guitar would have been better than trying to chase away my guilt.

After I’d walked in on Gwen and Finch nine years ago, I’d played guitar until my fingers had bled, literally. I couldn’t get the visual of him in his boxers out of my head, kept picturing them in bed together. I’d felt so stupid. Angry at Gwen’s mom for suggesting I had a chance with her, furious at Finch for abusing my trust. Sickened that I still yearned for Gwen. Even with my hardened calluses, I worked the fretboard so harshly, my skin broke.

I itched for that same pain now, but my favorite Gibson was in Germany. Where my life was. Where I’d end up alone and scratching my heartbreak into lyrics if I botched this.

The boys and I had run a circuit through Owen’s neighborhood, ending in a park. Owen planted his hands on his hips, head tipped back as he caught his breath. Jimmy walked in circles, cursing me for setting the frantic pace. I yanked off my drenched shirt, could practically squeeze out the sodden fabric. I squeezed my fists instead.

It was a Sunday. Families were playing on a jungle gym, balls and Frisbees tossed. Dogs kept time with their owners. Everyone with normal lives. I didn’t envy their nine-to-fives and daily routines, assuming most of them walked that treadmill, but I envied how they lounged and laughed like they had forever. Living their lives with their loved ones. With their kids.

Another stitch cramped my side.

“Mind telling me what you were chasing out there?” Jimmy stopped pacing. He sat his ass on the grass, under the shade of a large oak, arms dangling over his bent knees. “This was supposed to be a leisurely morning run. Not a sprint.”

“I have stuff going on.”

“Yeah, I figured that out. You’ve been scowling so hard my teeth ache.”

I loosened my always working jaw, dragged my hand through my sweaty hair.

Owen sucked back a large breath, exhaled as he studied the blue sky. More blue. So much blue in San Francisco compared to Europe. I had missed this. I’d missed being able to run with friends, even though we hadn’t said a word while pounding the pavement, the type of comfortable silence that allowed you to brood or think or not feel so alone.

Silence that settled the soul.

It wasn’t helping much today.

Owen’s shirt joined mine in a heap. He stretched his long body out next to Jimmy, hands behind his head like he was lounging at a pool. “I’m guessing the mood is because of Gwen.”

I couldn’t sit on the grass. My blood still rushed from our run, my mind as busy. I jammed my toe into the ground. “Because of her and something shitty I did.”

“Isn’t she the one who slept with your brother?” A shaft of sunlight cut through the leaves, slashing across Jimmy’s tattooed arms.

I appreciated his candor. It was why I’d blurted our sordid history when we’d met for drinks. No point pretending that shit show hadn’t happened. But this was worse than Gwen drowning her sorrows in Finch, and Finch using her to get to me.