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Back Walk on the Wilder Side Save as PDF
Chapters (46)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. Epilogue
  43. Excerpt from Wilder With You
  44. Also by Serena Bell
  45. Acknowledgments
  46. About the Author

Len Dix doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t make eye contact. He’s a big white guy. Beefy and bearded. He looks like a lumberjack, and for good reason—he runs his dad’s lumbermill, employing an army of axe-wielding bearded dudes.

“Hi, Zoë,” I say. “Little late for Justin to be out, right?”

Well, shit. Didn’t know I was going to say it until it was too late.

“Not your concern, Wilder,” Len says.

I don’t have time to make a decision before I realize I’m being wrestled back into the booth by Easton and Kane, while Clark says, “Move along, Zoë—that’s what you’re good at, anyway, right?” Through the red haze of my rage I see Len start to round on my brother, but Clark gets to his feet and Len seems to think better of it. Clark’s as big as Len, and even a dumb Dix wouldn’t take on four Wilders in the middle of Oscar’s.

Then they’re gone and the fight fizzles out of me.

Easton pushes his half-full glass of whiskey across the table and I down it.

“Thanks,” I say.

I mean, Thanks for the whiskey, but also, Thanks for not letting me kick the shit out of him. Thanks for having my back. Thanks for knowing the right thing to say and the right thing to do, even though I haven’t been able to tell you what the fuck’s going on.

“Of course,” Easton says, and Clark and Kane nod. Not the tight one. The one that says, We’re brothers.

Which is sometimes all you need to know about us.

I wonder what would have happened if they hadn’t been here.

And for some reason, right then, I think about Rachel. Maybe it’s because she was there the last time I hit Len. Maybe it’s because most nights I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since she brought all those wiggly, vibrating objects onto my boat. Maybe it’s because right about now, Connor’s words are coming back to me:

Just don’t do anything half-assed till you have some time to sort yourself out.

Amen to that, friend.

11

Rachel

By the time I do Brody’s second party, I’ve hosted a couple more with my mom and have a pretty decent sense of the rhythm and flow. It’s basically like good sex: lots of conversation, plenty of foreplay, and then the lube comes out.

“So this—” I hold it up and take a quick peek to see where Brody is. He’s just outside the cabin door, standing and studying the sky, which is ribbed with wispy clouds.