Page 64 of Wild Side
I blink rapidly, envisioning him. I imagine Rhys like Milo—same chubby, rosy cheeks but with big dark eyes. What I can’t imagine is giving him away, turning him over to a system where he’d never have any stability.
“How do you know all this?”
“My file.”
I hum, turmoil burbling inside me. No wonder he was worried about Milo ending up there too.
“So you grew up in foster care the entire time? You couldn’t stay in one place?”
He shrugs. The gesture is casual, but I don’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. “I got big. I ate a lot. I was… I don’t know. I don’t remember what I was like as a small child or any of the families I was with at that time. But I ended up scrappy at school, surly at home. And just not very lovable, I guess.”
A battering ram to my chest—that’s how those words feel. I glance at Milo, who has his body pressed safely against Rhys’s opposite side. Rhys is giving him all the security no one afforded him as a child. God, I just want to crawl on top of him and hug him, squeeze him tight like I do Milo when he’s sad.
I settle for splaying my fingers and pressing my hand against his heart. Then I try his move on for size, letting my thumb rub lazy circles against his jacket. My shoulders feel tight for amoment, as though bracing for him to shake me off or give me a dismissive eye roll and tell me he doesn’t need any coddling.
But he just sighs.
“Was it bad?” I pry a little further, not sure if I want to know the answer.
“Hmm. Not all bad. Mostly just unstable. I got juggled around a fair amount, which was tiring. Constantly navigating new household dynamics as a teenager was not ideal. It got better when I found wrestling at a small gym. Had to lie about my age to train, but at my size, it wasn’t a hard sell. The only bad part about it was that working out so much made me hungry all the fucking time. Pretty sure all my first paychecks went straight to food, which I’d hide in my room so that none of the other kids would come and swipe it.”
He chuckles over the last few words. But I don’t. I think back to that night I heard his stomach growling and the carbonara I whipped up for him. Part of what I love about being a chef is feeding people. Providing nourishment is my way of showing I care.
I loved cooking for Erika. She always ate with such gusto. Watching Milo lick his fingers clean after my from-scratch mac ’n’ cheese feels like winning Olympic gold for me. And seeing my friends laughing, talking, and savoring a meal made from my recipes at our wedding is a memory I will cherish forever.
It’s with those images in my head that I promise myself to never let Rhys go hungry again.
“I’m glad you told me. Milo is lucky to have you in his life.”
I hear him swallow and see him nod from the corner of my eye. Something tells me he doesn’t open up often and is realizing how much he let out in his valiant attempt to make me feel better. Now it feels like my opportunity to return the favor.
With one hand still holding him, I point up to the sky. “That cloud looks like Cleocatra.”
Rhys groans, but I detect humor in the sound.
“And if you squint, that one looks like you petting her.”
“Weird. Because I would never pet her.”
I snort.Liar.
“Plus, that strip of cloud is way too long to be my arm. It looks all stretched out.”
“You’re right. Maybe that’s Terence petting Cleocatra.”
His head snaps to the side, and our gazes collide. “Who?”
“Stretch. From bowling.”
Violence flashes in Rhys’s eyes, and it makes my stomach flip. That he goes from soft to feral so effortlessly shouldn’t be this exciting for me. But here I am.Lusting. Like the fucking mess I am.
“If that guy pets my cat, I’ll tie a knot in his scrawny arm to match the one in his neck.”
I grin. “Did you just sayyourcat?”
Now I get an eye roll and a small head shake. “Whatever.”
“Are you jealous?” I tease.
