Page 62 of State of Mind

Wilder swallowed—he could do that much, at least. His tongue was thick and heavy, and he wasn’t sure he could make his words come out clear. “I.” It was the best he had right then.

Understanding flashed in Luca’s eyes and he dropped his head, pushing their noses together in a careful nuzzle. He felt a puff of air, the zinging vibration of words he couldn’t hear. Lips brushed his own, and then Luca pulled back to sign what he’d said. ‘When?’

“This morning,” Wilder said, and he was startled that he’d found his voice so quickly. He wanted to wrap both arms around Luca and bury his face in his broad chest and lose himself there. If he was there, reality outside that embrace didn’t exist, and he wouldn’t have to deal with any of it. “One a.m., I guess. My sister texted me. I have to go.”

He wasn’t sure if Luca tried to speak, but he didn’t think so. He didn’t feel the motion of words, just easy kisses dropping to his hair, his temple, across his forehead. Luca’s fingers drew soft lines up and down the sides of him, and the bed beneath them kept him from sinking beneath the earth.

“I don’t want to go. I don’t want to do this. God, I don’t want to see her.” He felt the sob lodge in his chest, but it wouldn’t break free, and he gave a frustrated growl because he wanted to fucking cry. Maybe it would make the knot in his gut unclench. Maybe it would stop that itchy sort of ache just under his skin that hadn’t gone away since he read Willow’s text.

Luca pushed up on his arms, but his stomach still weighed Wilder’s hip down to the bed. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

Yes, he did. More than anything.

He felt like he might lose himself and never find his way back again if he had to walk into that house and face his mother with his father gone. His father hadn’t done much, but he’d done enough—like a paper-thin buffer between Wilder and her poison, and now there was nothing. Her grief and anger would make her worse than poison, and his father’s small protection had slipped beyond the veil with him.

Wilder had no idea what to expect.

“I need to do this alone,” he said.

He wasn’t surprised at his words, but they filled him with an old self-loathing because he too often refused help when he needed it. He was his own worst enemy on the best of days, even when he didn’t have to be. But, as much as he wanted to cling to Luca like a crutch, he knew he couldn’t do that. Just like he couldn’t allow himself to rely on Luca’s soft touches or easy words. His own two feet, his own strength, had to keep him upright, because he might not have Luca one day, and he needed to know he could trust himself.

‘Ok.’ The two letters flicked through Luca’s fingers with steady acceptance, and Wilder winced inwardly. He wanted Luca to fight him—to fight for him—but he’d never ask for it. ‘How long will you be gone?’

“I don’t know.” And he didn’t. He had roots here. He wasn’t going to pull them from the ground and set them ablaze because of family tragedy, but he also knew that once his mother got her claws back in, it would be hard to break free. “I need to get ahold of Dmitri. I need to get a flight. I need to…”

His words stopped when Luca touched his cheek. ‘Let me call Dmitri. You go online and book your ticket. I’ll drive you to the airport.’

Wilder blinked, watching Luca’s hands, letting it all sink in. He wanted to turn away—or maybe he wanted Luca to beg him to stay, but he wasn’t a child. He had to face this. Pushing up, he eased himself away from his lover and moved to the bathroom. The door shut with a firm click, and he was profoundly aware right then he wasn’t home. He missed his space—and he was glad to be here with Luca, but in that moment, he wanted to be in his room, with his things.

He’d have to go and pack anyway, and he needed to get things prepped before he did, and he had to get Dmitri ready to handle the business by himself, and if he was gone for too long, things would fall apart, and…

He was on his knees, and it must have made a loud enough sound because Luca was instantly behind him, pulling him away from the sink to hold him. It had been a while since he’d had a full panic attack, but he felt the familiar tug—the room closing in on him, the feeling like he was about to die, the fear that it would never stop, and he’d be stuck in this terrible loop for the rest of his life.

He counted. He breathed. He tapped his fingers in a soft rhythm against the side of his thigh and let that be the only thing he felt until his chest began to loosen. Luca was still holding him, but his arms were loose and ready to pull back when Wilder needed him to.

“I have to go home. To my apartment,” Wilder said.

Luca nodded against his back and let go. They moved from the bedroom, and Wilder dressed before he changed his hearing aid batteries, then slipped them in and turned them on. He pressed his palm to the wall as he adjusted to the sudden rush of sound, to the pressure in his ear, and the inevitable surge of vertigo. It didn’t last, and he regained his balance enough that he could bend over for his phone without falling on his face.

Luca was waiting for him, sleepy-eyed and dressed in sweats. His hair was a mess, and he had a cardigan on that looked softer than anything Wilder had ever touched. He wanted to bury himself in it, but he couldn’t bring himself to take another moment of physical comfort from this man. If he was going to be gone for an indeterminate amount of time, he had no business making Luca any sort of promise, spoken or otherwise.

He appreciated that Luca didn’t try to talk on the drive over. He appreciated that the sound of soft classical music accompanied them back to Whipped, and that Luca didn’t turn the car off or get out when he pulled up to the curb.

“So…”

Wilder shook his head. “I don’t know how long this is going to take.”

“I know.” Luca offered him a small, sad grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “I get it.”

“I’m not—” Wilder said, then cut himself off with a growl. “I don’t want to go.”

“I know,” Luca repeated, his smile getting a little bit softer. “What do you want?”

Wilder blinked, then he laughed in spite of himself. “For none of this to be happening. To take you with me. To tell you I’m falling in love with you without the weight of my dad’s death hanging over it.” He stopped, because while it was true, he’d been trying to save that moment for somewhere important—somewhere good. Somewhere untainted by the pain of his past. The damage was done though, and he could see it in Luca’s face. “I want to be an easier person to love.”

Luca gripped the wheel, then he let go and opened the door, walking around the side of the car. Wilder was barely on his feet when Luca reached for him, and he went pliant as one hand dug into his side and the other into his hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Wilder shook his head. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. And you have a home to get back to, and…”

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