Page 65 of Love in the Wild

Eden rolled her eyes. “How can you be so hot when you boss me around? I’m beginning to think I have a submissive streak in me.”

Thorne liked it when she talked, even when he didn’t fully understand what she meant. He was used to the sounds of the jungle, the chatter of the monkeys, the cries of birds, and the throaty calls of the gorillas.

But there was something innately pleasing about the sound of a human female’s voice. Eden’s in particular made his body glow like he was beneath the late-summer sun, resting between the cool water of the falls and the heat of the sunlight. It was perfect. Just like Eden’s voice.

Thorne fell in behind Eden as she approached the wooden wall with windows placed intermittently down the row. A great beast pushed his head through one of the windows. Thorne tensed, then relaxed when he realized it was a horse. He wasn’t a child anymore, yet the beast’s size still intimidated him. The horse was like Tembo, but not nearly so tall, yet he seemed more restless, more dangerous with his potential for quick movements.

“Hey there,” Eden cooed to the horse and held out her hand. The horse bumped his nose into her palm and snorted softly. Then he nickered and encouraged her to pet him again.

“Need some attention, huh?” She scratched the horse’s nose and glanced at Thorne. “Come, you try.” She waved in his direction.

Thorne drew closer, holding his breath as he curled his fingers into a closed fist and let the horse breathe in his scent. He imagined he was back in the jungle, and how easy it was to be around animals, to let them speak to him. His shoulders dropped, releasing the tension inside him, and he could in that moment feel the horse’s heart alongside his own. He smiled. The horse huffed, and his withers rippled with a little tremor. Then he calmed and nosed Thorne’s bent knuckles. He opened his hand and let the horse nudge his palm. The dark, soulful eyes of the beast seemed ancient, much like Tembo’s solemn gaze.

“I bet you’ll be an amazing rider, like your father.”

“My father?”

Eden pointed to the wooden beam above the horse, which held several shaped gold objects. “Those are riding trophies. Your father’s name is on all of them.”

The thought of a connection to his father filled him with a secret joy. There was so much about this life he didn’t know, yet he wanted to. But he feared that the more time he was here, the more he would be expected to stay here forever. To abandon the forest. To give up his life with Keza and Akika. It was an unfair choice between two different worlds, and the world he had left in the jungle was still in great danger.

“There you are!” Isabelle appeared in the doorway of the stables, a warm but cautious smile on her lips. “I found some old photo albums and some videos of you and your parents. I thought you might want to see them.”

Thorne nodded. He longed to see his parents.

They left the stables and met Cameron in a cozy library that had a large screen. Cameron had laid out a collection of books on a nearby table and was flipping through them. He grinned as he saw them enter.

“Thorne, come in! Sit.” He nodded at a chair beside him.

Thorne sat down, and Cameron slid a book in front of him. It was full of photos of himself. No, not himself—his father. The handsome man stood next to a horse and wore a set of white clothes covered in grass stains and dirt. The rakish grin on his father’s face reminded Thorne of how he felt whenever he outwitted a silverback from a neighboring band if he strayed a little too close to their territory.

“He was a master polo champion, your father,” Cameron said with pride. He pointed to another man beside him. A happy looking man with laughing eyes. “That’s Jordie Lofthouse. We call him Lofty. He was a dear friend of your father’s.”

Isabelle laughed. “Lofty is such a darling scamp, isn’t he, my dear?”

“That he is,” Cameron agreed with a laugh.

Thorne saw a dozen more photos of his father before coming across a large photo of a woman in a white dress. She was half-hidden by a large bundle of flowers that she held in her arms.Roses.The deep-scarlet blooms were a brilliant contrast against the white of her dress.

“Your mother on her wedding day.” Cameron chuckled. “Your father made an utter fool of himself trying to win her over, though one could hardly blame him. We men should all be fools in love.”

She was beautiful, so beautiful that a bittersweet ache filled Thorne’s chest. It was the face in his dreams, the face that had given him comfort in the dark nights of the jungle in those early days.

“I remember her,” he confessed with quiet awe. “I remember them both.”

His mother’s smile. His father’s gentle chuckle. It was all there, buried deep within him. Thorne turned page after page of the pictures in the album, trying to capture more of these memories. When he was done, he looked at Eden, who stood next to the TV with Isabelle.

“Do you want to see the videos?” she asked.

Throat tight, Thorne nodded and stood before the screen. Eden had explained how this worked before they had left Uganda. A TV was like a camera, only the pictures could move and talk. Cameron joined him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. The screen suddenly flared to life, and he saw a little boy frolicking on the grass. His mother was laughing as she chased Thorne.

“Catch him, Amelia!” A rumbling voice came through the TV’s speakers. It was his father’s voice.

“He’s such a cheeky little thing,” Amelia giggled. She caught the child in her arms and carried him toward the camera. Thorne could now clearly see his own face in the child.

“Give him to me, darling,” Jacob said. The camera shook, then righted itself, and Jacob was holding Thorne in his arms now, and Amelia must have been holding the camera. The look upon his father’s face as he looked at Thorne was one of pure love and devotion. The face of a man who’d been born to be a father.

Thorne had lost his whole world at an age where he could barely remember it. No one should have to face this type of loss. The pain was too great, too cruel.

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