Page 18 of Wild Side
Without even thinking it through, I’d reached for her. Tried to throw her a lifeline. And I shouldn’t have. I’d taken it too damn far.
The truth is, I made that contact as much for her well-being as my own.
The memory of being told similar things by a social worker at every new home I was taken to as a child bubbled up in me unbidden. At thirty-five years old, it still haunts me.
And so does the knowledge that I would never do something that isn’t in Milo’s best interest… but I also promised his mother I’d stand in for her if this day ever came.
I just didn’t expect it to come.
The pain of Erika’s loss is fresh, still unbelievable in so many ways. Our friendship was easy, and she always seemed healthy.None of this feels real, and everything I do right now is just… on autopilot.
I don’t know how much time passes until the sharp clap of Tabitha’s hands behind me startles me out of my reverie.
“You can’t stay here.”
I turn to look at her and come up short when I see her standing in the doorway wearing pin-striped black pants and a white chef’s coat. “Why are you dressed like that?”
Her cheeks hollow out, and her expression sours as she examines me with disapproval. She’s pulled her hair into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, lending to the severe look.
I miss the messy updo and the grass stains on her knees.
“Because I have to go to work.”
“Right now?”
“No. I just love to play dress-up in my free time.”
I let out a beleaguered sigh. “We should talk at some point. To Milo. About Milo. All of it.”
“About Milo staying here?”
My jaw works. I don’t want to lie to her, but I also don’t want to give her false hope. “I don’t know.”
Her lips pop open in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“My life isn’t here. My work isn’t here. I have a summer home in Emerald Lake. There are laws that require me to leave. Staying for more than six months is frowned upon by immigration. And my time is almost up. I’ve been off work.”
Again.
She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Six months off, huh? Must be nice. What is it you do again?”
Now it’s my turn to stiffen. I hate talking about my work. The questions. The assumptions. The way people treat me differently once they find out.
I love being a wrestler with World Professional Wrestling, but I love my privacy more. It’s why my character keeps a mask on in the ring. And it’s why I don’t tell people what I do.
“I work in the entertainment industry.”
Her gaze sweeps over me. “Porn?”
“No.”
“Okay, suuure.” She adds a knowing wink at the end of her already disbelieving sentence.
I don’t respond. I don’t owe her an explanation. Years of learning to hide things and keep shit to myself in the foster system have become a way of life for me even as an adult.
It’s a tough habit to break, and I’m not even sure I want to. Sharing too much always backfires. People always end up wanting something. Namely money.
Maybe even my name in their will.
