Page 44 of State of Mind

‘Thank you.’ Wilder took it from him and swiped a hand over his brow, which was sweating, but not from the short burst of late afternoon summer heat. He noticed when Adam became aware of the tremble in his fingers, and he held his hand behind his back. “Sorry.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed, and he shook his head at him. ‘Don’t.’

Wilder felt another ripple of anxiety, and he breathed through it, giving a tense, nervous laugh. “I should go.”

He started to back away, but Adam waved at him, and he turned. Adam’s signs were amateur at best, but he got his point across. ‘Relax. It’s going to be fine. Adriano loves his older brother. He’s a good person.’

Wilder nodded, but it didn’t help. Luca wasn’t the end-all, be-all of his potential love life, but Wilder had come to realize he wanted him to be. He wanted his happy ending, and he didn’t want to slog through more bullshit and pain to get there. He wanted to go to bed and wake up to his sleepy brown eyes and slightly crooked smile. He wanted to feel Luca’s warm hands on him and the way his shoulders shook when he laughed, and he wanted the shy look on his face all the time when he tentatively asked for validation.

He wanted to grow with him—to see what new shape he would take post-Scott as he shed the last of that life in the wake of something new and wonderful. And he thought maybe that could be Luca, but he had never been good at predicting the future.

He’d be damned if he didn’t try, though.

He offered Adam another thanks, which was waved off, and he felt better about himself as he headed back to the apartment. Making his way upstairs, he grabbed his phone and shot Luca a text, letting him know he was home and would be ready for him whenever.

Luca: I told you not to cook, right?

Wilder: You did, and I didn’t.

He contemplated telling him now that his restrictions were annoying, but important. Luca would get it—he had an allergy that could kill him if he wasn’t careful. He wouldn’t mock Wilder for it. But he hated needing to be accommodated.

Eyeing the bags of food on the table, he shoved them into the fridge, then began to tidy up until the light by the door flashed. His heart hammered in his chest for a minute, but he breathed through it, then walked downstairs and let Luca in.

He looked good, more dressed than he’d been that morning in the bakery kitchen, but not as fussy and put together as before. His hair was wind-swept, and his t-shirt was only half tucked into his jeans, and he was effortlessly gorgeous. He had a scarf hanging over his arm, and a couple of silver rings on his fingers, and his arms were loaded with Tupperware.

They said nothing, but they locked eyes and smiled for far too long before Wilder turned and led him up the stairs. He could feel Luca directly behind him, a sort of warmth taking up normally empty space, and he wondered if it was something he’d ever get used to.

It was odd having anyone but Jayden in his place. Apart from wine nights and the occasional trip down the hill for a movie, Wilder wasn’t the most social person, and he didn’t mind that life. He liked his safe space. He liked that he could trust his apartment would always be his—and he liked that he had control over who he shared his world with.

The moment became sweeter when Luca dropped everything on the table, then reached for Wilder and drew him close.

His palms were heated from the food he carried, and they seared through Wilder’s thin shirt, right into his hips as Luca lowered his head and nuzzled their lips together. He felt a moan drag from his throat, his lips parting, letting Luca’s tongue inside.

His head spun—but for the first time that day, it wasn’t vertigo. It was happiness, so alien to him, he almost didn’t recognize it.

“Hey.” At least, that’s what he thought Luca said, the breath of the word brushing against his mouth. He gave Wilder a series of pecks, then gently pulled back for sign space. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Better,’ he answered, glad he could be honest about that for once. He had stopped feeling like he was walking sideways around one, after he’d eaten his lunch, and even with his heart thumping wildly at the feeling of Luca standing so close, he had never felt steadier. ‘What did you bring me?’

Luca stepped back and flushed. ‘I’ve never had to surprise anyone with dinner, and I…you’ll think I’m weird.’

Wilder cocked his head to the side. ‘I won’t.’

‘I looked up your disease?’ He signed it with his brows lowered, almost like he was trying to phrase it as a question. But Wilder wasn’t sure he meant it that way, or if he was just struggling with his facial expressions. ‘Google said that sodium is a big deal.’

Wilder flushed, his guts twisting in the best and most painful way because no one ever—ever—asked him about it. ‘Yes. On bad days like today I generally avoid all salt.’

Luca nodded, and he bit his lip as he went on. ‘Italian food without salt is…a crime, according to my mother. But I tried my best, and I think it tastes okay. If it’s awful, we can order out or cook something. Whatever you want…’

That might not have been the end of his rambling signs, but Wilder would never know. He gave in to the rush of desire to grab him, to hold him, to kiss him deep as he backed Luca up all the way to the table, fingers digging into his hips. He broke apart, breathless and trembling, and he laid his head on Luca’s shoulder. “It’ll be perfect. Thank you.”

He felt a soft vibration, heard a faint tone, but he didn’t think it was words. A soft groan, maybe, as Luca curled his hands into Wilder’s shirt and just held him. It was nothing like he expected—and he wasn’t sure what to do with it, but he knew he was right in not wanting to let him go.

He pulled back after a minute, offering Luca a sheepish smile, and he shrugged. ‘I like you.’

Luca chuckled. ‘I can tell.’

Wilder felt a pang of something uncomfortable, an old, broken fear left over when Scott had used his body against him. If Wilder was hard, it was obvious he wanted it. If Wilder wanted it, he had no right to tell Scott no. It had taken him years to stop being afraid of his own body, to reclaim the idea of consent. But showing physical desire still terrified him a little.

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