Page 89 of Wilde's End
“How many kids are there?”
“Currently seven, though Matt’s about to turn eighteen.”
“Do you know everyone?”
“Yes.” He stretches his sore leg out. “Matt was the first kid born after I moved here. We’re an extended dysfunctional family, but we work.”
“Even Lynx?”
“Even him. Everyone has their place.”
I know I shouldn’t ask, but I do anyway. “What about me?”
His steely eyes meet mine, and there’s regret there as he answers. “Every society has its disruptor.”
I rip my gaze away. I’m sitting there, telling myself that as soon as the rain stops, I’ll leave, but this conversation doesn’t feel finished. I just have no idea where to take it from here.
“Do you want to meet them?” he asks. “The others?”
The question is so unexpected that I can’t believe Wilde asked it at first. He’s been determined to keep everything hidden from me, and this is the exact opposite of that. Has he had a personality transplant?
“When?”
“Today? Now?”
“You’re injured.”
He bites back his clear irritation at me pointing that out. “Fine. In the morning, then.”
The fact that he’s offered this at all feels like a turning point. A definable moment where he’s making an effort, so I’m going to make one right back. “Will you show me around as well? I want to know more.”
“Why? So you can see what you’re ruining?”
“So I can understand why you love the place.”
There’s a pause, then a soft “Why?”
“I don’t know. I just want to.”
He’s conflicted, but when he drags his gray eyes back to me, they’re unguarded. Almost vulnerable. “Don’t make me regret this.”
The worst part is that’s not a promise I can make.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
WILDE
Hudson returns in my truck early the next morning, just cementing thewhat the fuck am I doingthoughts that I’ve been having all night. And I do meanall night. The pain in my leg was a constant throb that made getting comfortable impossible.
He doesn’t even bother to knock. Just walks in, whistling, then tosses my keys my way. “Morning, sunshine. Need anything before we go?”
“For you not to call me sunshine.”
Amusement tugs at his lips. “Ah, but that’s the one thing that I can’t do.”
Figures. I push up onto my feet, ignoring the twinge that happens with every step. I’m determined not to limp because I don’t want the attention that comes from an injury. “Let’s go, then.”
