Page 20 of The Story of You
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Wyatt
By the afternoon, I’m in the locker room at the gym where my new trainer works out of. I usually see him early, but he had to switch times today. Darius insisted that I have a trainer. I wouldn’t have thought of a trainer before and I might have decided I didn’t need one, but money is no longer a limitation. Darius spends it like it’s water and he has an ocean full. I have pride, but for other things. I think it’s cute he wants to do things like pay for a trainer for me and buy me special gym bags.
I asked him, “Doesn’t this ruin your daddy fantasy? Don’t all your books star billionaire daddies who sweep boys off their feet and away from their hard-knock lives?”
He’d put his arms around me and situated himself in my lap. “They do, but it’s the heart of the fantasy that matters for me. You’re my big strong daddy who fights the monsters and is utterly obsessed with me. Who never,everleaves me. I’m the beauty and you’re my beast.”
His words were punctuated with aggressive chest pokes.
I snatched his poking hand out of the air, trapping it. “Who never leaves you, darlin’, but who will spank you if you keep pokin’ me like that.”
That had ended that conversation.
My phone rings. It’s Oliver.
“Wyatt? Are you coming home soon?”
What is home when you’re a nomad? But it’s our night at Randall central so I guess that’s where for today.
“In an hour. Why?” I also want to know where Julius is. Oliver has fast become my little brother as much as anyone else’s. He needs some—no, a lot—of minding.
“I was going to read the book. You know the one. No one’s home.”
He doesn’t want to read it alone and he called me? How fucking adorable. “I can make it in thirty if you order me some food.”
“We’ve got food galore over here. Lak made curry last night. There’s a stack of naan and a bunch of that palak paneer you like.”
Lak made curry without us? My mouth’s watering. “You’d better fix me a big plate, kid.”
I make it home in record time. The willowy blond ballerina is at the stove staring at it like it might consume him. Glass-filled containers of curry are laid out on the counters. Shit. I forgot that he doesn’t know how to work that thing. “Here, baby eagle bird. Let me show you how to do that.”
“Thank fuck. I was worried I’d burn the house down, but I was going to try.”
“No one wants to get a microwave around here?” I grumble as I fish out a few pots. It’s not the first time I’ve said it.
Oliver laughs. “Oh no. We don’t do microwaves. Besides, one does not microwave Lakshan’s curry. He and his sister fight about it all the time. It’s funny.”
Bet his sister has a microwave. “You want some?”
“Yeah. I could eat.”
He can always eat.
“Mind if I start reading while you do all that?” he asks.
I nod. It doesn’t take me long to have three pots going and naan in the toaster oven. Oliver’s reading the book at the kitchen table. I glance over at him every so often. His face changes from smiles to concern to lip biting.
“You gonna be all right?”
Large blue eyes lift from the book and set heavy on me. “I wasn’t okay to begin with, Wyatt. It’s not … not Silas’s fault—or Darius’s. This kind of thing seeps into your marrow by osmosis.”
Turning off the stove, I make up a couple of plates, not skimping on his portion just because he’s a waif-like creature. I’ve seen how much he can pack away. Bet he burns a million calories a day dancing.
“Put the book away while we eat.”
“Fuck. Yes, sir. No wonder you were a major. That voice alone.” He sets the book off to the side.
