Page 43 of Wilder Heart

“Well, I might!” He turned forward again, sighing hard. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to bring this up right now. Maybe I have a concussion or something.” What waswrongwith him? He should have just kept his mouth shut.

Cash’s hand appeared in front of him, grabbing his chin and turning his head for another searing kiss. Wilder leaned into it, hungry for everything Cash might offer.

“Okay,” Cash said when they parted, with deliberate patience. “You’re worried, because you don’t know where Lain’s head is at. Right?”

“Yes.”

“And maybe you… have learned to expect the worst.”

Wilder scowled. Was it written on his forehead or something? How did Cash read him so well?

“Don’t frown at me,” Cash sassed. “Yes or no?”

“I… Yeah, I guess.”

“Okay. Then let me deal with Lain—although I still say you two should talk.”

Wilder tried to pull away at that, because there was nothing he’d rather dolessthan have it out with his brother, especially when Lain literally held Wilder’s future in the palm of his hand. Lain could have him out on his ass in a heartbeat if he wanted. Staying on his good side, or at least out of his way, was Wilder’s priority right now.

Cash didn’t let him move away, still gripping his chin tight and rewarding him with another kiss when he stoppedstruggling. “Fine, fine. I hear you. You’re not ready for that. But I’m not willing to give this up.”

“What if?—”

“Shush, I’m not done.”

Wilder sighed.

“I’m too old to play games and hide what you mean to me.”

Wilder softened.

“I like you a lot, and I want to explore what we could be. If that means staying a little more private for now, until you’re comfortable enough to be public with me, then so be it.” He gave Wilder an arch look. “Unless you don’t want this?”

Wilder hesitated. The smart thing to do would be to lie, tell Cash he didn’t want this, and let them both walk away with their hearts intact. But he wasnotsmart, hedidwant this, and he was just selfish enough to risk everything for it.

“What if I have to leave?”

“He’s not kicking you out for getting hurt, Wilder.”

“Maybe not. But I can’t pull my weight.”

“Accidents happen. You signed paperwork informing you about Workers’ Compensation, remember? Hecan’tfire you for getting hurt. Besides, taking a break to heal doesn’t mean you’re not pulling your weight. Everybody is allowed to have breaks when they need them. But if it’ll make you feel better, you can take over cooking for the hands while you heal, if you’d like. We’re easy to please, and you won’t have to strain yourself. We’ll see what the doctor says, but I’m sure there are at least a few things you can do while taking it easy until you’re healed.”

“I don’t know how to cook,” he warned.

“You cook the meat until it’s no longer pink. You cook the noodles until you can stick a fork through them. Drain any water or grease.”

Wilder snorted. “I think there’s more to it than that.”

“Those are the basics. You’re welcome.” Seriously, he said, “I want this. If you don’t, tell me now.”

Wilder’s chest ached, and it had nothing to do with his fall. He leaned in, letting Cash take his weight. “I do,” he confessed against his neck. “I just know it’ll hurt in the end.”

Cash’s fingers found his hair, threading in and holding on. “Not all falls end in disaster. Just give me the chance to prove it.”

Wilder closed his eyes. If he trusted anyone in this cold, cruel world, it was Cash.

“Okay.”

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