Page 11 of Will to Run

“Sorry, I… you have really nice hair,” he repeats, shaking his head. “Anyway,” he continues inside and drops the backpack on the ground. “Did Hazie leave anything useful?”

“Hazie?” I ask.

“That’s my sister’s nickname. Hazie Mazie is what we used to call her, though now that we have an actual Mazie, it gets confusing. My brother wanted her to have a z in her name, and there weren’t a lot of names he loved. All of our names have weird letters. Our group chat is called EOA for End of Alphabet. My nephew, Luke, has the u; Everest has the v; our last name, Wills, has the w; I claim the x with Jaxon; Cayson has a y; and Hazel has the z. Very phonetic and super weird. And that was exponentially more information than you’ll ever need to know, sorry,” he smiles a lopsided grin.

“Oh my gosh, I love that so much! How fun! I can claim a z too! At least my middle name. I love the nickname Hazie, but I extra love Mazie for a little girl. She was cute, Jaxon. Both of them were.”

“They are the best. She’s a spitfire, which, I’m not sure you can tell, is the opposite of my brother.”

“So she gets that from her mother?”

“Well,” he hesitates, “the twins’ mother isn’t in the picture.”

“Oh, shit,” I say. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had the opportunity to stalk you all online and find your deepest, darkest secrets.”

He laughs at my admission. “You won’t find any of that information there, but you can ask away. Do you have a nickname, Della?”

My face drops. It’s been so long since someone called me Della. I love my name. It was different enough not to have multiple Dellas in class, but not so far off the path that people didn’t know how to pronounce it or anything. When Tripp came into the picture, he vocalized how much more proper Elizabeth sounded and outright refused to call me Della. Though I was put off at first, my father was constantly in my ear telling me how I didn’t deserve to go by my mother’s favorite name, and I needed to make the Worthingtons happy, so when the guilt piled up high enough, I just… went with it. Before my mom died, I wasn’t aware that guilt could make you spineless. But now, the only two people who still call me by my first name are Quinn and my aunt.

“For the longest time, I went by Del,” I offer.

“Del? I love that. I’m sure you heard my siblings call me Jax today. Wait, why did you stop going by Del?” he asks.

My lips press together in a tight smile, and I shake my head. “I don’t think I’ll be here long enough to get into that, Jaxon Wills.”

“Fair enough,” he says without skipping a beat. “So, do you want a nightcap, or do you just want to call it?”

“Nightcap, no question. What do you want?” I ask walking to the fridge to see if Hazel left anything. When I open it, five beers, five hard seltzers, and one bottle of wine with a note that says Glad you’re here is looking back at me. The three words make my nose tingle because this woman doesn’t know me from anybody, yet went out of her way to show me love. Grabbing the note, I turn to Jax. “Seriously? Are you guys all this wonderful?”

After skimming the note, he smiles. “Yeah. I mean, I’m the nicest, obviously, then Hazel, then Ev, then my nieces and nephews, and below the horses and barn cats is Cayson,” he laughs at his own joke. “No, Case is probably above the barn cats. Those guys are brutal.”

He reaches beyond me and grabs a beer, then moves to sit at the island. He feels comfortable. Like I’ve known him forever. But he also awakens a flicker of attraction, which I know is completely crossing a line, but I can’t help it. He’s gorgeous, and he’s giving me the time of day. Maybe I should just take Quinn’s advice and hook up with him. It’s not like Tripp wanted to sleep with me. Something tells me that Jaxon Wills might be down, and worth throwing all caution to the wind.

“Jax, are there other people in the cabins, or am I solo out here?” I ask, realizing that I don’t like that thought one bit.

“No. Eight, twelve, and fifteen are occupied. They’ve come every year for the last nine years before the season kicks off. We board their horses over the winter.”

“So I’m not alone? If something happens?”

“What do you think is going to happen?” he asks, his eyebrows raising.

“I don’t know. I would feel more confident walking the streets of Chicago at two in the morning than I do thinking about sleeping in a cabin in the middle of nowhere,” I pick at the label on my drink.

“You’re joking, right?”

“I know, I’m just. I know it’s silly. But I want you to know how much it’s taking for me to be playing it cool right now, because I hear coyotes. Or wolves. Or both. Possibly werewolves. I’m not sure who is calling to the moon, but each time I hear it, my arm hair stands on end. I’m shocked you haven’t called me out on flinching.”

“In good news, the creatures out here don’t have opposable thumbs, and they can’t open doors. But yes, Tatroe, you are playing it real cool,” he smiles before taking another swig of his beer.

The first drinks go down fast, as do the second and the third. I’m feeling warm inside, and I’m sure it has to do with the fact that I’ve consumed about ten ounces of pretzels today and a string cheese that Hazel left in my fridge. The two of us are shamelessly flirting at this point, and it’s fun. I don’t recall the last time I felt attractive, flirty, or aroused. Putting my latest empty can in the sink, I turn to Jaxon.

“Another?” I ask.

“Nah, it’s time to call it, Del. You’ve got to be exhausted.”

The way he says my nickname in a slight drawl makes me grin. “I was hoping to drink until I passed out,” I admit out loud, the booze suspending the filter in my brain. Because when Jaxon walks out of this cabin, I’m going to be left with my thoughts again. And I don’t want that. I had eight hours of that today. These last six have been such a wonderful reprieve. That and I don’t want to be by myself with the howling creatures that sound like they’re outside my door.

“I’ll be an enabler in lots of situations, but I don’t know if that’s your best course of action here,” he says.