Page 247 of One Wild Wish

My overheated blood pumped faster than when on our run. “None of it went how I planned. Her mother’s luggage turned up, and she was overwhelmed. It felt like we’d been brought together for something bigger, and the journal’s been insane. Gwen’s mother was a piece of work, but we’ve seen new sides of her through her words, and it’s like Gwen’s finally discovering a woman she can understand. She’s grieving for her for the first time, and if I tell her, she’ll stop searching for her dad. Stop learning about her mother. So, no, it’s not just about me. She needs this closure in her life.”

Owen hadn’t said a word, his brown eyes hazy, as though he’d tuned us out.

Jimmy was back to glaring. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You love her, man. You love her and you’re scared you’ll lose her when she finds out.”

“I’m terrified, but—”

“No buts about it. I get why you delayed telling her initially. I probably would have done the same. But now? You’re traipsing around the city, searching for a dead man, and you think it’s because you want her to have closure? You are seriously delusional. And forget smallpox. If Ainsley gets a whiff of this, she’ll castrate you.”

A soccer ball bounced toward us. Jimmy shook his head at me, his damp black hair a ratty tangle. In one move, he palmed the stray ball and hopped to his feet, jogging toward a few kids messing around.

Owen stirred and sat up cross-legged. “You know I was raised by my nana, right?” I nodded. His eyes still looked glazed, his mind elsewhere. “I didn’t talk about it much when we played soccer and hung out, but I never knew my father, and my mother left us when we were kids.”

“Sounds rough.”

“It was, at times. But I’m acquainted with feeling adrift, not understanding who you are or where you come from. It drove a lot of my choices growing up—sticking with a marriage too long as an adult, pushing Ainsley away when I should have held on tighter. I get why this has been a big void in Gwen’s life, but Jimmy’s only partly right.”

“The part about me being delusional?”

He huffed out a laugh. “We all are when we’re falling in love. No two ways about it. The emotion gets too big to see right. But you’re not wrong about the closure part for Gwen. My brother held onto more anger than I did after our mother took off. It beat him down. Understanding why she left would have gone a long way to helping him live a fuller life sooner. Maybe I wouldn’t have married the wrong woman. So I get it, why you’ve waited. But everything has a way of getting out eventually. If you don’t control that information, the fallout is way worse.” The stuttering of his Adam’s apple suggested he was speaking from experience.

“If I burn the letter, she’d never know.”

“True. But you would.”

As teens we’d drink beers under the bleachers after practice, hit on girls, talk shit about the other soccer teams, but we never discussed feelings. I had no clue Owen had been through so much. I was impressed with how together he was now.

I was far from together.

Jimmy was teaching soccer drills to a few kids. I dragged my hand through the grass, plucked at it like he’d done. It reminded me of my lawn cutting days and Gwen chasing after me, shoving clippings down my shirt. I’d never tossed out the T-shirt she’d bought for me. Lawn Enforcement Officer. No matter my anger surrounding our history, I couldn’t part with the threadbare memory or delete her photo from my computer. She’d always been a part of me.

“I have to tell her,” I said quietly.

“You do.”

“I’m going to lose her.”

“You might.”

The air around me thickened. The April heatwave threatened to box me in. “I love her. In one day, my world’s tipped sideways. There’s never been anyone else for me. Doubt there ever will be.”

Owen hunched forward, hands clasped in front of his crossed legs. “If you’re honest about why, she’ll hopefully understand. Wish I had better advice.”

“It’s my mess to sleep in.”

My lungs felt blistered, charred and inflamed. Gwen had looked so hopeful at her apartment this morning, positive she’d meet her father and get the answers she sought. I’d be the one to torch that dream. She wouldn’t forgive me. Not for this.

I pressed my clenched fist to my stomach, but the jagged twisting didn’t lessen.

Helping her discover her mother had played a part in my choices. Gwen had needed to grieve, glimpse the woman who’d asked me not to let her daughter get away. But Jimmy was right, too: stalling now was selfish. Telling her meant losing her, which was the last thing I wanted.

There was no option in the end. I was her best friend. All these years later, that was my most important title. Best friends didn’t follow each other on false scavenger hunts. They forgave the unforgivable, which I’d already done. They also shared the tough stuff, truths that stung.

First thing I’d have to say when I met Gwen this morning was her father’s name.