Page 62 of Wilder Heart

“I-I’m not understanding.”

Wilder smiled down at the table. “I just wanted to prove I could do it. I wanted to prove to everyone, to myself, that I could be on the team if things were different. That I was good enough. And not only did I make the fucking team, but he wanted to make me a starter. Coach begged me to change my mind. Every time I saw him after that, he told me there was a spot for me if I wanted it. I just couldn’t take him up on it.”

Cash’s gaze was soft, like he was seeing something in Wilder he’d never noticed before. And there was something else—something Wilder had never seen directed at him. Pride. He reached out, smoothing a hand across Wilder’s upper back.

“You made the football team,” he repeated softly. “You would’ve been a star.”

Wilder’s mouth quirked. “I don’t know about that. But I made the team. I could’ve been…” He shook his head. “More, I guess.”

“You already are more, Wilder. You’re everything.”

Wilder closed his eyes, reaching out blindly and laying his hand on Cash’s leg under the table. A moment later, fingers found the spaces between his own, anchoring him.

Somebody thought he was more.Thatwas everything.

When their burgers came, he reluctantly separated from Cash to eat, but he found the zest for it after the first bite. Every bite was dripping with melty cheese and grease. The tomato was fresh and juicy, the lettuce crisp. Cash’s foot pressed against his own as they ate, chatting about things that didn’t matter, like how each of the hands wound up working at the ranch and what Cash was most looking forward to when spring came.

Wilder was mostly done eating, picking at his fries and sipping a vanilla cream soda, when his eyes snagged on an unfamiliar sight past Cash’s shoulder. Out on the dance floor, two men were dancing together. Smiling at each other, they were doing some kind of two-step Wilder didn’t recognize, twirling under each other’s arms and moving their feet in time together.

He looked around the room, bracing himself for negative reactions. Dad always said people wouldn’t stand for this kind of thing in Roselake. That they’d root out the unnatural. But there were no snarls of disgust. Nobody approached them. In fact, a few people smiled their way. A couple of women stepped outonto the dance floor to join them, falling into the same style of dance next to the men.

“It’s okay, Wilder,” Cash murmured, and he realized Cash had been watching him.

Wilder forced himself to relax. “I just thought…”

“I don’t know what the town was like when you were a kid, but this is a good place now. People are more accepting than they used to be. They’re not in any danger.”

“Good. That’s good.” He shouldn’t be bitter about that. It wasgoodthat Roselake was a more accepting place now. But it did make him wonder… If things had been different, would that have been his life? Would he have found a community here after all? Acceptance? Maybe Dad’s opinion had skewed his expectations about how he’d be treated in Roselake if he came out.

Not that it mattered. They might not care that he was gay, but they sure as hell cared that he was a felon.

Cash’s hand on his shoulder drew him from his thoughts. “Wilder.”

He met Cash’s eyes. “Yeah?”

Cash smiled, hopeful and bright. “We could dance, if you wanted.”

Wilder froze, his heart seizing in his chest. He couldn’t deny that there was a part of him that was exhilarated by the thought. Going out there in front of everyone and letting them see how well he and Cash fit together? It sounded fantastic.

But all of these people knew Lain. The hands were here. Half of them were out on the dance floor, and the others were at the surrounding tables. Any of them could report back to Lain about the foreman getting a little too chummy with his untrustworthy brother. Hell, the fact that they were sitting so close together while apart from everyone else was already risking suspicion.But sitting together could be explained away. Dancing, not so much.

“I didn’t mean to make you short-circuit,” Cash said kindly. “We don’t have to. I was just asking, because you had this look on your face.”

“What look?” Wilder asked. There was a knot in his gut.

“Longing,” Cash answered quietly.

Cash saw right through to the heart of him, but he didn’t long to dance. He longed for the kind of life where he had the choice to. The kind of life where he had a supportive parent he could have come out to. A father he didn’t have to protect his brother from. A father he didn’t have to fight.

Wilder stood, his chair scraping loudly across the wood. “Sorry, I-I need some air, I think. I’ll be right back.”

Cash called his name, but Wilder didn’t stop, propelling himself down the short steps and out onto the patio. It was less crowded here, because the air was brisk. Only a handful of people were braving the chill for a smoke, and none of them paid him any attention as he sucked the cool air into his lungs and let his head fall back.

He didn’t expect a firm hand to snag his arm, dragging him off the patio and out into the grass. He twisted, glimpsing Cash over his shoulder, tugging him out into the darkness around the corner of the building. Cash shoved him up against the wall with a heated grin and then descended, crushing their mouths together and swallowing Wilder’s quiet gasp. The underside of his hat rubbed Wilder’s hair. The cool air couldn’t penetrate their warm little bubble.

“Cash,” he murmured when they parted, wrapping his arms around him.

“Did I make you feel bad?” Cash asked, noses and mouths brushing. “That wasn’t my intention.”

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