Page 53 of State of Mind

“Don’t ever say that to my face again,” Wilder ordered, and he took Jayden by the elbow and escorted him to the door. “And maybe. I’m going to send him a text.”

Jayden looked happier than he had any right to be, but in that moment, Wilder couldn’t blame him. He felt the same emotion lodged deep in his chest.

* * *

Wilder made his way to Luca’s apartment with more instruction not to cook, and he wasn’t going to turn down Luca attempting to woo him through food again. He hadn’t been lying when he said he had written off his diet as bland and tasteless. He had never been particularly experimental outside of baking when it came to flavor, and anything pre-packaged low sodium was a death sentence to his taste buds.

So, he ate fresh and bland, indulged in his cakes, and didn’t let himself worry that his abs weren’t flat. It was his one small food joy, and he would take it without shame.

But Luca’s food had been like magic, and he couldn’t help but look forward to the night. He popped down to the bakery to make sure Dmitri was taking care of everything for the Market, then he grabbed a box and filled it with a few cakes that sat out on the table.

He had a few hours before set-up, and he was going to use that in his own sort of indulgence—wrapped in Luca’s arms and letting himself truly feel this brand-new happiness.

He bypassed the salon and headed up the stairs, then tapped his foot as he waited for Luca to answer. He did, not long after Wilder knocked, looking like he was fresh from a nap with mussed hair and his shirt rucked up on one side. He rubbed his curled fist into an eye as his other hand reached out, dragging Wilder inside, and when the door shut, Luca’s mouth was on him.

A press to the lips, a nip against his neck, a nuzzle along his collarbone—it was fucking heaven. Wilder closed his eyes and gave himself to each and every tiny sensation that Luca dragged from his neglected body. He’d grown numb to being touch-starved until now, and God, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to live without this for long.

“How are you?” Luca rumbled just under his ear.

“Exhausted. Long day. Were you sleeping?”

Luca nodded. “Sorry—I had a rough night. It’s been a while since I had insomnia, and it knocked me out this afternoon.”

Wilder’s brow furrowed, and he pushed past him to set the cupcakes and his bag on a chair. “I should have stayed.”

“And what, had me keep you up too?” Luca huffed and wrapped his arms around him, pulling Wilder’s back to his front before he kissed the nape of his neck. “You’re here now, and that’s what counts.”

“And you sound like you need to go back to bed,” Wilder countered.

Luca shook his head. “No. Food, Market date, then bed.” He kissed him again. “Want to help cook?”

“Always.” And although Wilder wasn’t good on his own in the kitchen, he was trained. It was easy enough to pick up a knife and start chopping zucchini—and there was something beautifully simple about the way they worked together, like they fit.

And he had never fit before.

“You look… thinking…hard,” Luca said, nudging Wilder with his elbow.

Wilder turned to face him, having missed most of the sentence. “Sorry, what?”

Biting his lip, Luca shook his head. “You look like you’re thinking too hard,” he repeated.

Wilder shrugged. “It’s nothing bad. I’ve just never really done this before. You know, the whole domestic, cooking dinner sort of thing.”

“Not even with…” Luca said, then paled and looked away as the rest of his sentence trailed off into a dull murmur.

His words were so muffled, Wilder was mostly guessing, so he reached out and touched his chin. “Bad ear day, so I really need you to face me. But I think I caught most of that, and no, not even with my ex.”

Luca set the wooden spoon he’d been using to brown sausage down, and he propped his hip against the counter and switched to sign. ‘Was it always terrible?’

Wilder shook his head, feeling soothed by his language on Luca’s hands. It was so much easier to talk about it that way. ‘No. It was okay at first—but not great. Not the way it should have been. It was just less violent. And there were good moments. I tried to leave him once, and he promised to change, and there were about three months that I thought he meant it.’

‘Sorry,’ Luca said. He turned to stir the meat again before looking back. ‘I wish it hadn’t cost you so much to get out.’

‘The price was worth it,’ Wilder said, and he believed that with every ounce of his being. He wouldn’t trade a single second of his scars—inside or out—for his freedom and for the distance between him and his past. ‘But even in the good months, it was never this good.’

‘It’s not really a high bar,’ Luca told him, and Wilder laughed.

‘No, but the one you set is.’ Wilder hesitated saying any of this, because it had been a week—just a week since the man stumbled into his life, begging for pity but offering so much more in return. Wilder shuddered to think about how he had almost not gone outside when he saw him on the bench that day. He had almost not bothered. That thought alone threatened to choke him, and he set his knife down and put both hands at Luca’s waist. “Thank you.”

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