Wild Heart Read Free

on the house, but I keep walking.
    The night air hits my face and does nothing to help.
    Someone follows behind me. Their footsteps in the gravel are loud in the suffocating silence.
    A few paces ahead of them, I duck into the barn, hoping they’ll give up the chase, but I know damn well it’s wishful thinking.
    Standing in the middle of the barn, I shake my arms out, trying to calm down. Counting doesn’t help, and drinking only takes the edge off. Nothing’s working. This night has turned out worse than I expected it to.
    Why did Em have to come back? Why now? Why here? Why fuck with me?
    For a moment, the only thing I hear are crickets, but sadly, it doesn’t last.
    “You still hate me, don’t you?” It’s Emerson. Her voice is soft and sweet, it’s like a knife to my chest. Hearing her words directed at me is like being hit by lightning.
    I don’t bother looking over my shoulder, and I don’t put down the bottles of beer in my hand I snagged from my truck on the way out.
    “I don’t feel any way about you, Emerson,” I scoff, staring down at my dirty boots. I feel nothing for Emerson Jae Maddison. I couldn’t hold on to those feelings anymore after a few years. They were dragging me down, threatening to consume me. There isn’t any room for her shit in my life anymore. For me, love is an all or nothing thing, and that was especially true when it came to her. But, that was a long time ago.
    “You don’t?” she asks, a laugh tinting her question. She thinks I’m bullshitting her. Maybe I am.
    Looking up from the ground, I see her leaning against the big barn door, her ankles crossed and her arms hanging loosely by her sides.
    For the first time tonight, I actually see her.
    My breath catches, and it fucking hurts.
    She’s so goddamn gorgeous. Time has been more than good to her.
    Nothing about her has changed in the years she’s been gone, except her looks are more mature, and her teenage body is now that of a woman. A mess of blonde curls hang around her face, and the rest of her tangled, windblown hair is being held up in a red bandana. Her bow shaped lips are smirking, and her brown eyes are dancing.
    I remember the first time I saw her, the first time she stole my breath.
    I was seven years old, sitting on the front porch, feeding my line into my fishing pole when a little white furball came bursting through the bushes, followed by a little girl making all kinds of noise. Wearing a white sundress and no shoes, she stopped in the middle of my front yard, a leash in one hand and a wand in the other.
    “Sprinkles!” she hollered.
    I remember thinking that that was the stupidest name for a dog, ever.
    “Come back here!” The dog stopped, looked at her for a second, then took off again. The little girl dropped her arms to her sides in defeat and burst into tears.
    Watching her cry made my chest hurt. Once we became teenagers, it only got worse. Her tears were always painful for me to see.
    It only took my mom a minute to come outside to see what all the fuss was about. As soon as she saw the little girl, the daughter she always wanted, she was hooked. How could she not be? The little girl was damn cute, even when she was crying.
    “What happened?” My mom asked me with accusing eyes. Of course she would assume it was me. I could only shrug. I didn’t know anything about crying girls in dresses.
    “What’s wrong, honey?” My mom stooped down in front of the little girl, taking her hands.
    “My dog ran away,” she sniffed.
    My mom, the fixer of all boo-boos, broken hearts, and scraped knees smiled at her and said, “He’ll come back. He was probably just chasing a cat.”
    “Okay,” she muttered, nodding.
    “What’s your name, sweetie?” The little girl sat down with my mom, right next to me on the porch.
    “Emerson Jae Maddison,” she said proudly. It was the prettiest name I had ever heard. Girls, I could take ’em or leave ’em at the time, but that name would forever be part of