Page 29 of State of Mind

Wilder glanced through the slit in the back of his booth tent that had a direct line to Fitz’s. It was a smaller square, just a short table with an awning and a finger-painted sign he was pretty sure Aksel made that read, Fitz’s Knitz. Fitz was standing behind his table wearing a small frown, saying something Wilder couldn’t read off his lips from there, and Luca was running his hands over one of the scarves.

He looked gorgeous, even from behind, with his artfully messy hair and his tight, stone-washed jeans. His forearms were slender but muscular, and his fingers were long and thin. Wilder wanted to feel them on his body, wanted to know what Luca smelled like up close, with his nose buried in the man’s neck.

He was in so much trouble.

Stepping back, he opened his mouth to say no, but the look on Jayden’s face said that if he didn’t, Jayden would make him pay for it. And maybe his friend was being a bit cruel, but maybe—somewhere deep down—Wilder was ready to take a step he hadn’t let himself in years.

‘Fine.’ His thumb tapped his chest a little too hard, but he barely felt it. Brushing past Jayden, he walked around the side of his table, then down the aisle behind his booth and caught Fitz’s eye as he approached.

Fitz’s middle finger dragged up the side of his chest. ‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing,’ Wilder signed back, and he knew Fitz’s lexicon didn’t extend much further than that—but it was something.

And it had caught Luca’s eye, whose head whipped around, and his eyes widened. He took a step back, and he wasn’t limping as badly as before, so Wilder hoped it meant that his pain was less. He had the mad urge to look down at his crotch and see if he looked bigger, but he wasn’t a fool.

“Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say hi,” Wilder said as he stepped closer. “You looking to buy?”

Luca swallowed thickly, then shrugged. “I like these, but this guy is trying to talk me out of buying one.”

Wilder looked up at Fitz, who was smiling helplessly. “They’re terrible.”

“They’re interesting,” Luca argued, and where anyone else might have been trying to be nice, Wilder knew Luca wasn’t motivated for that. He was staring at Fitz’s work like it meant something—like there was a hidden pattern in the stitches that no one had figured out. “I want at least two.”

Fitz sighed, then took the two that Luca had been touching and shoved them into a paper bag, pushing it toward him. “There you go.” When Luca reached for his wallet, Fitz shook his head. “Your money’s no good here.”

Luca’s fingers twitched, but the motion didn’t stop, and he pulled out two twenties. “I’m sure you’ll find use for it somewhere.” He slapped the bills on the table and then grabbed the bag, stalking off.

Fitz stared after him, mouth slightly parted, and then he looked back at Wilder. “Do you know what the fuck that was about?”

“It might have been about the incident?” Wilder offered, not sure if Aksel had spilled the truth yet.

Fitz’s brow furrowed. “The…Tavern thing?”

Something about Fitz not knowing made Wilder’s chest unknot, and he shook his head. “Uh, no. No, he had a bad day, and he probably thought you were doing it out of pity.”

Grabbing the twenties, Fitz shoved them at Wilder and held them against his chest until Wilder took them. “Go take that sad man out for dinner or something. He’s walking and talking like he has an actual stick up his ass.”

Wilder tried not to wince, because it was true. Luca was prickly, and he was still moving with a slight limp. He curled the cash into his palm, then shoved it in his pocket and resolved to find a way to give it back to Fitz somehow. He definitely wanted to take Luca to dinner, but not on Fitz’s dime.

With a quick wave, Wilder weaved through the increasing crowd and managed to catch up to Luca, who had found the same bus bench and was sitting there with the bag between his spread thighs. He had half a scarf out and was running his fingers over the fringes—all of them mismatched in color and length—and a mess. And yet, it was oddly fitting for Luca.

He slowed a bit as he approached, and he watched Luca stiffen when the other man realized he was there, but his presence wasn’t immediately rejected. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Luca snorted and shook his head. “People only say that when they’re nervous.”

Wilder bit his lip, then sat down. “Yeah well, you make me nervous.”

At that, Luca laughed—a full-bodied sound that was more vibration than noise, and it hit Wilder in the center of his chest. “Are you worried that my bad luck is catching?”

“I’m worried that you’re going to panic and leave without giving this place a chance,” he said. Without giving me a chance, but he wasn’t going to say that aloud. Not yet. “How are you feeling?”

“Dr. Alling gave me narcotics,” Luca answered with a shrug.

Wilder’s lips twitched. “It’s weird to hear anyone call him Dr. Alling. He’s…”

“A mess?” Luca offered.

“Unconventional.”

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