Page 26 of Wilder Heart

Relief hit him so hard his knees shook with it, and the next thing he knew he was being dragged into Cash’s arms, his hat knocked from his head and Cash’s warm pine and leather scent filling his lungs.

“You didn’t deserve that,” Cash said in his ear. “He shouldn’t have treated you like?—”

“Like a criminal?” Wilder rasped. “I am one. He’s right, I stole from this place dozens of?—”

“Hush,” Cash ordered sternly. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t give a shit. You didn’t do ittoday, so he had no business treating you that way.”

“Cash.” Being in his arms felt too good. It felt too much like real belonging, and that wasn’t something he deserved. He flattened his palms on Cash’s trunk-like waist in a halfhearted effort to push away, but instead his hands settled into place under Cash’s ribs like it was made for the shape of them.

When was the last time anyone hugged him like this? He dug his fingers into Cash’s sturdy sides, hiding his face in the curve of his neck.God, it felt good.

“That’s it,” Cash rumbled, like Wilder was a horse he was trying to coax out of a fit. Strong fingers curled into the back of his short hair, and Wilder went dizzy. He was in danger of getting hard if he kept that up. “I’ve got you.”

He never wanted this to end, but eventually, they had to move. With a tug on his hair, Cash guided Wilder’s head up. He swallowed back a moan at the treatment. It had been a long time since anyone had dared to manhandle him like that, and he liked it more than he wanted to admit, even in the privacy of his own mind.

“Wilder?” Cash asked gently.

He nodded. “I’m okay.” Coloring with embarrassment, he tried to extricate himself. He’d justclungto his boss at the first sign of affection. But before he could pull away, Cash caught him, cradling his face and drawing him close again.

“Hey, don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” Wilder asked, desperate to rebuild his walls but ensnared by Cash’s kindness.

“Don’t pull away. Don’t shut me out.”

He had to. It was the only way he’d survive.

“Shouldn’t we get moving? We have frozen stuff—wait, where’s the groceries?”

Cash sighed, like this response disappointed him. “I put them in the truck already when you wouldn’t respond to me.”

Wilder carded his fingers roughly through his hair. “I’m sorry. I should have been paying more attention.”

“You were freaking out, and that’s okay. Grab your hat and get in the truck.”

Cash’s hands lingered on him until he turned away, stooping to pick up his hat and then climbing in the passenger seat. He handed the keys back to Cash, and electricity buzzed under his skin at the brush of their fingers. He jerked away quickly, settling back against the door with his hat in his hands, fidgeting with the brim as Cash guided the truck out onto the road.

Neither of them spoke until they were outside Roselake proper. He felt Cash’s gaze on him a couple of times, but he avoided returning it. He was mortified Cash had seen him like that, as scared and small as he’d always felt under Dad’s thumb. He’d reacted to Gary the same way he used to react to Dad, cowering at the first sign of aggression from an older figure of authority.

Prison hadn’t helped that instinct. The guards hadn’t been unnecessarily cruel, but they’d been hard-asses. He’d been shoved and smacked and threatened with solitary for every tiny infraction. They had power and they knew it, flexing it every time anyone stepped a toe out of line. He’d done his best to avoid their attention altogether. His fellow prisoners were a different story. He didn’t have the same reaction to them, and making a name for himself among them had been relatively easy once he got the hang of the way prison worked.

He didn’t want Cash to think he had to worry about him, though. He wasn’t that same kid, and he wasn’t going to steal anything. Maybe he needed to explain himself, prove he wasn’t that same stupid, desperate kid.

He cleared his throat, staring down at his hat. “He wasn’t—totally wrong, you know.”

In his periphery, he saw Cash glance over at him. “I know,” Cash said softly.

Wilder tried to ignore the burning of his face. “I didn’t take much. Never more than I needed. Dad would go on these long benders, and Lain and I would go weeks without groceries. We didn’t have any money—Dad would have lost his shit if we got jobs in town. He thought it would make the ranch look weak if we sought work elsewhere. Didn’t matter that he was drinking away the money faster than the ranch could pull it in. So I… Yeah, I stole shit from the store sometimes. But I had to.” He hated the way his voice cracked. “I knew it was wrong. Lain told me not to. He always told me not to, told me it was wrong like I didn’t alreadyknow. I’d just grit my teeth and do it anyway, because if I didn’t feed us, who would?”

Cash reached over without looking, snagging Wilder’s wrist and pulling it into the space between them. He threaded their fingers together, and Wilder stared at their hands, at the way they fit together like puzzle pieces. Cash’s grip was tight but not painful, his thumb sweeping back and forth across his knuckles in a way that made Wilder’s stomach swoop.

“You did what you had to do to survive,” Cash said. “I’ll never judge you for that.”

“Why not?” Wilder croaked before he could think better of it.

Cash glanced at him, his eyes flinty. “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you judge me? Everyone else does. Most of the time I don’t even care. But you, you’ve never treated me like therest of them. You don’t treat me like a wild animal that might snap at any minute. Why?”

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