Page 29 of His Wild Storm
“It is now.”
Wilde starts to laugh while gasping out, “You’re silly.”
“Only because I have you for a kid,” I throw right back at him.
When he gets himself under control, there’s a threat in his voice, “The treasure box better be sparkly.”
“It does need to be fit for a dragon,” I sigh, agreeing with his sparkly requirement.
“You get it,” he agrees with a big smile on his face.
When I hold my hand up, he doesn’t hesitate to high-five me. The sound isn’t quite as satisfying as it could be and Wilde frowns. Knowing what is coming, I hold my hand up again.
“Yeah, that wasn’t as good as it could have been,” I encourage him.
I swear he winds up in his head and when he high-fives me this time, the sound is loud in the room and my hand stings. After shaking out the feeling, I give him an appraising look as he covers his mouth, and his giant smile, with both his hands.
“Ow, Wilde,” I play it up with my voice. “You aren’t supposed to take my hand down. I’m going to need it later.”
With a gasp, my hand drops down to the bed behind him. Unable to contain his delight any longer, my son laughs uproariously. The sound washes over me and fills in some of the cracks that I haven’t been able to fully heal yet. It’s not a sound I would have heard when we were living underhisrules and authority.
Now, his laughter is so much easier, and I hear it more and more. It was true before we came to Safe Home, but something about being here has unlocked something inside of my son. His lightness has only increased over the last few weeks since the art class started.
The way he’s been able to express himself through art makes me wish I had his talent. Or maybe it’s better I don’t have it. He deserves something that is just his.
“Come on,” I urge even though I don’t let go of him to allow him to move away from me, “it’s time to start the day.”
“Is there enough time for breakfast before art class?” His voice is super serious, and his chin hits his chest as he looks at me.
“Like I would allow you to go to art class, where you’re Knox’s assistant, without feeding your tummy and brain,” I scoff.
He grins at me and then hops out of bed. As much as I want to snuggle back into my pillow, I don’t allow myself to do it. Itwould be so easy. Well, if Wilde would let me get away with it. He won’t.
It takes us a few minutes to get up and get dressed, but then we’re making our way towards the kitchen. Wilde slips his hand into mine and I fucking melt for this kid. He’s the sweetest and while, yes, I am biased, you can’t argue facts.
When we hear a male voice in the kitchen, we both freeze and share a look. I don’t want to be afraid and the last thing I want is for Wilde to be afraid. After listening for another moment, our shoulders relax at the same time when we recognize who it is.
Then Wilde is pulling me toward the kitchen while practically vibrating with excitement. The moment we step through the doorway, Knox turns and sees us. Watching him melt at the sight of us is something to behold.
Knox is a big man. I say that not only to speak on his size, which would be enough to make my statement true. But that’s not all.
There’s something about him that is larger than life. It makes you want to step a little closer to him. It makes you want to uncover his secrets and bask in his light.
I’ve never met a man quite like him.
As much as I should have spent this last week figuring out what life after Safe Home really looks like, I distractedly worked a little bit and then played Knox’s words, open and vulnerable as they were, over and over in my head.
Even a week later, I’m surprised I agreed to give him a chance to earn my trust. Not just my trust, but Wilde’s as well. I’m thinking, especially after this morning, getting my son on board won’t be a challenging task for the man.
Me?
Yeah, I’m much more difficult. It’s impossible for me to forget everything my ex put me through. There are times, especially in the dark, when I can still feel the reverberations of his hits against my body. I wish it weren’t true, but it is and I’m not going to lie about it.
It wouldn’t do me any good and it wouldn’t do Knox any good either.
So, why does being around Knox not make me want to run?
Before I can dive too deeply into my mind, Knox grins from ear to ear. “Good morning,” he greets us.
