Page 16 of His Wild Storm
“Okay, okay,” I acquiesce. “I’ll get dressed and we’ll head down to get some breakfast before class starts.”
Wilde sighs, the relief clear on his face as he shuffles over to his small bed and sits while still holding onto everything. I chuckle under my breath and shake my head while mentally patting myself on the back for taking a shower last night. I don’t think he would tolerate me taking longer than absolutely necessary this morning.
Even though I make sure to be quick, Wilde still shoots me a look like I’ve taken forever. After I run a brush through my hair, I do the same to him which owes me an eye roll.
“Looking good for art class isn’t a bad thing,” I point out.
“Yeah,” he grumbles, “you’re right. Knox’s hair was brushed.”
I make a humming sound in response because it’s all I can do. He’s not wrong. I only got a glimpse of him, but I still noticed his auburn hair. It looked soft and the longer strands on top seemed to be calling out for my fingers to be buried there.
As I glance around the room I’ve been sharing with Wilde, I let out a soft sigh. I’ve been able to save up a nice little nest egg and have been taking on more work. As much as I know we need our own place, including a space just for Wilde, it’s nice to have the cushion of being in the shelter.
But what if I’m taking up a spot that someone needs more than me? I’d feel horrible about it.
I’ve been putting together a budget, and I think we can make a small two-bedroom apartment work for us. If I need to get some more work, then I will.
The thought of putting Wilde in a physical school makes me feel anxious. What if it is what tipshimoff about where I am?
While I hate the thought of him looking for us, I can’t say for sure whether he is or not. Other than making sure Ed knows I’m safe, I haven’t had any contact with anyone in Connecticut. It’s for the best.
Even though I’ve been sharing a room with Wilde, I’m grateful it’s only the two of us in the room. It wouldn’t have surprised me if we were sharing with more people, but we lucked out this time around.
Which means we need to ensure we don’t overstay our welcome. Other women are in a more dangerous spot than I am, and I know it.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” I can’t help but tease Wilde.
It looks like he practically levitates from the edge of his bed to rush out of the room and toward the kitchen. I have to move double time to keep up with him, but I don’t admonish him. I’m glad he’s excited about class.
Considering how much I worried about him and how he would do with the teacher and the class, how can I be anything other than grateful for how well he’s doing? Art has already helped him so much. I’ll do anything to make sure he continues to grow and thrive.
The next step for us will be getting a place of our own. I’ve been thinking about it more and more in the last week. Talking to Avery and finding outhedoesn’t have a legal leg to standon when it comes to Wilde without going to court and how not getting married makes the break between us cleaner, has taken a lot off my shoulders.
Maybe it was a good thing he was never excited about being a father and was too wrapped up in his own shit to ask important questions when it comes to something as simple as the birth certificate. His indifference is my win.
Wilde is practically vibrating when I make it down to the kitchen. It’s adorable and Laura has to cover her mouth to hide her laughter.
“How about some cereal? It looks like you might not be willing to wait for anything else to be cooked,” Laura teases.
“Cereal would be great,” Wilde confirms.
He puts all his art supplies up on the table and I can’t help but grin down at the pear he chose. A few days ago, a set of plastic fruit arrived, and Wendy gathered all the kids from art class together to let them choose their favorite fruit.
Wilde immediately dove for the pear. The kid loves a pear, even more than an apple. One time I asked him about it, and he just shrugged while explaining, “Apples are harder, and I don’t like biting into them, but a pear is soft and perfect, especially when ripe.”
How could I argue with his brand of logic? I didn’t even try.
“While I get out your breakfast,” Laura offers as she picks up a translucent plastic bowl from the countertop, “would you mind taking this to where art class takes place? I thought it would be a nice bowl for the fruit today.”
Wilde lights up and nods his head eagerly. “I’ll take it in for you, Miss Laura.”
His hands are gentle as he takes the bowl from her. “Please be careful with it. It’s not glass, but if dropped it might crack,” Laura’s voice is soft as she warns him, not wanting to trigger anything.
I’m grateful for how mindful they are about what could scare the kids and navigate interactions with those considerations in mind. Wilde has grown so much, especially here in Safe Home. It’s another one of the reasons why I think staying here in Denver to set down some roots is the right thing to do.
And if Denver has men like Knox in it, it can’t be all bed.
I shake my head to try and get rid of the thought. The last thing I need in my life is a man. It’s only been a year since I lefthimand before then I had put years into the relationship. Well, calling it a relationship might be a little bit of a stretch.
