Page 28 of Wilder
The sound of little feet pounding the floor puts a quick end to our conversation. “Widah make me dinna?” My little guy comes in with a big smile. This kid. He’s a ray of pure fuckin’ sunshine.
I glance at Beckham, who has just let out a sigh of anxiety-ridden relief. There’s one thing we haven’t touched on. There’sno way we’re letting him stew about it on his own. If Beckham is affected by something, so are the rest of us.
TWELVE
ROYAL
I watchBeckham all throughout dinner, noting he’s a bit twitchy, like he’s mulling hard over something. As far as I know, he’s open with us about most everything. But he’s holding back, and I’d bet anything it’s got to do with whoever that woman in the sexcapade photos with him is.
It’s not until after dinner when we’re cleaning up the kitchen that I realize I’m not nearly as stealthy as my stalkery friend.
“You got something you need to say?” he grits out. “I feel you probing my brain like a fucking alien or something.”
Echo’s ears perk up, but she glances away through the glass-paned patio windows into the backyard where Wilder is running around with Chase. He gets a pass from cleanup duty since he did the cooking. She pretends, for the moment, like she’s not listening as she goes about bringing plates and utensils from the table and setting them on the counter next to where Beckham and I are working together to load the dishwasher. Our eyes connect, and she gives a little shrug, then shoos me with her hand, her gaze landing on Beckham. Her brows flick up. She definitely wants me to try to talk to him.
I exhale, steadily, rinsing my son’s mess of a bowl. “Yeah. You seemed to understand I was going through some shit in myhead. And”—I pause to gather all the silverware—“I thought I could return the favor. You seem bothered by something.”
Eyeing me with apprehension, he runs his hand over his stubble-lined jaw. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“But you’re not, unless something drastic has changed since last night. We were all thrown by those images of you appearing… Hell, I had the chore of removing them from the entryway.”
Beckham’s eyes go wild as they slide in Echo’s direction. A controlled, slow exhale feathers past his lips.
“Beck, please talk about it with Royal if you need to.” Echo doesn’t turn around, simply continues to stare out the window. “I can go outside, if you’d prefer I didn’t hear what you have to say. Even though it’d make me sad.” She sucks in a breath, glancing over her shoulder. “I trust you to know what or who you need.”
I rinse my hands off, then dry them as the air in the room thickens with tension. Beckham swallows hard, his hands shaking so violently I have to rescue a plate from his faltering grip before it goes crashing to the floor. I calmly set it in the dishwasher, then shut it. Quietly, I grit out, “Beck, man. Talk to me. Does Wilder know what’s going on?” My eyes search in the depths of his for the answer.No.I don’t think he’s even shared the entire story with Wilder.
Beck leans back against the cabinets and counter, lifting his hands up until they rake through his hair, gripping it tight. “He knows the woman was my fucking nanny. That’s all.”
I hear Echo’s gasp, but she’s not who I need to focus on right now. “That’s all, huh?”
He releases the vise-like hold on his hair and drops his arms to his sides, staring down at the floor. Dejected. Repulsed. Betrayed. I get all that and more when I search his face, the stance of his body.
I blow out my exhale through pursed lips. “Fuck, man.”
Just then, Echo pulls the door open for Wilder and Chase, who is giggling like crazy. “This boy needs a bath, I think.”
Quick steps sound in the hallway, and Kara pops her head in. “Did I hear someone say it’s bath time?” Her keen eyes read the room fast, and she holds her hands out for Chase. Fortunately, he goes running into them, no problem. “You wanna play with your boat in the tub, buddy?” He nods, waving at us over her shoulder as she takes off with him.
Wilder props his hands on his hips, his astute gaze taking in the strain on Beckham’s face. “What the fuck did we walk in on?”
Beckham pushes off the counter, shakes his head, then strides to the back door and takes off across the backyard.
Echo brings her hands to her cheeks as she tracks Beckham’s movements. He’s pacing out there, chest heaving. She brings her gaze to Wilder. “The nanny. He told us it was the nanny. I don’t know if he was going to say more than that.”
A puff of air bursts from between my lips, and I clench my teeth. “I didn’t think I was pushing. I offered to let him get out whatever he needed to because there’s no way he goes from being traumatized enough to drink himself into a stupor to… fine.”
“What do we do?” Echo hasn’t taken her eyes off him. The good news is, he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.
A moment later, my phone vibrates in my pocket. My brows furrow, but I pull it out, noting that Beckham is now sitting on the lush grass in the middle of the yard, his legs drawn up, and his head bowed. And, yep. He’s got his phone out.
Can you come out here?
I glance up. “He’s asking for… I don’t know if he means me or all of us.”
Wilder groans. “Ask.”
Did you want all of us?
