Page 52 of Wild Life

“She was.” His voice carried a heaviness just underneath the nostalgia.

“You look like her.”

“You think?” he asked, tilting his head with interest.

“Totally. Your eyes wrinkle the same way at the corners when you’re happy.” I looked back, catching his warm gaze. We were often able to say so much more to each other without words.

His lips met mine in a gentle kiss, moving slowly, savoring me. When we pulled apart, his eyes wrinkled at the corners.Happiness.

I flipped to the last photo. “Your dad?”

“Yeah.”

Aleki and his mother were joined by a man with his arms around them. His skin and hair were lighter—sandy blond. He was handsome and fit completely with the little boy and his mother. They were the picture of a perfect family.

“Your parents loved you a lot. I can feel it from these photos.”

“I l-love them, too.”Present tense.Love never died, even when the object of it had.

“They’d be so proud of the man their son has become.”

A shiny film cast over his eyes, and he blinked it away. His heartache made my own heart hurt. He had been handed a shitty fate, and I couldn’t even begin to unpack the trauma he must have endured…alone.

He lifted my hair gently, pulling out the strands that had tucked between my shirt and skin.

“What are you doing?” I packed the photos carefully back into the pouch and set it aside.

“Quieting your mind,” he replied.

His fingers gripped my scalp, applying pressure as he massaged the base. Goose bumps broke out over my neck as the indulgent sensation washed over me.Ugh, it feels so good.

My nose picked up on a perfumy aroma, and I let out a whimper. “Is that jasmine?”

“Yes,” he said from behind me. “I use it for hair oiling.”

“Hair oiling?”

His fingers worked between my strands, kneading just above the hair line above my ears, and all the tension in my body vanished.

“Ma used to oil my hair as a child. Her m-mother and grand-m-mother did it to her when she was younger, and since she didn’t have a d-daughter, Ma did it to my hair to carry on the tradition.”

“Ahh. That’s why you have such beautiful hair, then.”

“That, and Ma’s genes.”

From the looks of the photo I’d just seen, he was telling the truth. His mother’s hair had been gorgeous, like onyx. “This is such a beautiful ritual.”

“Sometimes she would use a m-mix of oils. I made this one from j-jasmine flowers and coconut oil.”

“What was she like?” I asked, shifting positions and tucking my knees under my chin as he coated my locks in the fragrant oil.

“A lot like you. Spirited. L-loud. Funny.”

I chuckled. “She must’ve been a great woman. I wish my mom had been more nurturing like yours. I would have loved to have my hair oiled by her as a kid. I would have begged her to if I had known it felt this good.”

“Do you miss your m-mother?”

I played with the pages of the book next to me as I considered my answer. “Yes and no. Does that make me a bad person?”

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