Page 69 of Down Bad

He puts on a smile and tilts his head my way. “Guess I’m not used to … being asked if I’m happy.” He looks ahead.

I already figured as much.

This whole town feeds on his kindness. No one checks in. No one stands over him to tell off the vultures.

It pisses me off.

“You okay?” he asks.

I’ve tightened up my jaw. “Guess I know a thing or two about moms running off, leaving their son to clean up the mess.”

He frowns at me. “What do you mean?”

Next second, I’m furious I let that out. “Nothing.” I look away.

“Your mom?”

“Said never mind.”

He doesn’t question it further.

After a little longer of walking, I let myself look at him again, studying the side of his face. Even when Wyatt’s serious, there’s this totally calm sexiness about him. I’d put money down there’s more fight in this guy than he lets on.

More fight than anyone in this whole town even knows.

Then he stops. “Okay, I have no idea where the bathroom is.”

I lift an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

“I feel like we might’ve passed one coming in …?”

I look around, not even having paid attention to where we’ve been walking. “You’ve been in this place how many times? Didn’t these rich people throw a Fourth of July thing here last month?”

He shrugs, then says, “Fun fact, it’s usually the Strongs’ who host all of the big events, but I think Mayor Nadine’s let go of the reins a bit, and Miss Cassie has this big ol’ house, and—You didn’t ask for the whole story,” he suddenly realizes, shutting himself up, then pointing at a random hall. “I vote that way.”

“Are we about to get lost in this place?”

“Aren’t we already?” He goes ahead of me.

I follow again, hands in my pockets.

We wander past rooms bigger than the house I’m staying in. A library with ladders. Some kind of music room. A sitting room I’m pretty sure no one ever actually sits in, from how clean it looks.

“How many random-ass rooms do rich people need?” I catch myself mumbling.

“I am happy in life, by the way.” He sighs. “I’m surrounded by what I love. My plants and flowers. I suspect they love me back. It’s like having hundreds of lovers all at once, and they show me love with their fragrance and their bold and colorful beauty.”

“Sounds fucking lonely.”

He stops at the door to another room and frowns back at me. “Speak for yourself, Mr. Won’t-Come-To-My-Movie-Nights.”

We stand at the doorway together.

There’s a fireplace at the other side.

A wall of windows. Curtains.

Big beautiful rug.