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It was terrifying and dangerous. He should probably text and cancel, except…
That was the last thing he wanted.
Dressing in jeans and a t-shirt, he sprayed himself with sun block, ran a comb through his hair, then snagged his phone and moved to the kitchen for coffee. His adrenaline had settled into something softer and more manageable as he set the mug under the pod stream, then he flicked on his phone screen, and his heart twisted in his chest.
He kept in bare contact with his father and a bit more than that with his sister—but when she texted, it was either that she was in trouble or there was drama.
Willow: Dad in for MRI, feel sick
Wilder: What did they say?
Willow: no result yet text soon
Wilder: Keep me posted.
He set the phone down and tried not to feel the old urge to panic and abandon ship, rushing back to their sides because his mother had trained him to respond when she needed a link to the hearing world. But he was done with them now. He had shed their bonds and reclaimed his life for himself apart from her claws and Scott’s hands, and he wasn’t going to give that up now.
His parents were older. Older parents got sick. If his dad was at the hospital, it was the right place for him to be. It was not his job to care anymore—and over the years, they hadn’t bothered to even try and earn his help.
He knew the guilt would eat at him, but it was something he’d been working toward for years. The last time he’d even engaged his mother was when the farm flooded. She had been beside herself with worry, trying to force Wilder to leave his bakery and handle the mess. When he refused, he’d dealt with strings of texts that went from begging to telling him she hoped he’d never come home again, but he didn’t give in. Eventually, she managed the insurance papers on her own, and it was tacit proof for both her and Wilder that he wasn’t really needed. He could move on, and no one’s life would fall apart.
And one day, he swore, he would stop letting her have any control over his emotional state. One day, there would be true and actual silence between himself and his family, and he would be able to breathe easy. But for now, relying on his own strength was enough.
Wilder finished getting ready, then sent a text to Luca letting him know he was on his way. He waited a bit, to see if the other man was going to cancel, but he got a thumb’s up emoji in response, so he shot a text to Will that he was leaving, then jumped in his car and headed over.
Wilder pulled up next to the sporty little ride that he knew belonged to the only man in the city who bothered to bring a convertible to Savannah during the rainy season, and he shook his head with a grin as he let himself in the main doors. The Augustin gift shop at the end of the hall was still dark and closed, but the salon doors were open, and he saw Raphael behind the desk, bent over, picking something up off the ground.
He waited until the other man sat back up, then smiled. “Morning.”
Raphael set his elbow on the desk and laid his chin on his curled knuckles. “Dragging our guest out kicking and screaming?”
Wilder couldn’t help a laugh. “He’s not that bad, is he?”
Raphael shrugged. “I think there’s promise—he just needs to figure himself out on his own. Not that I can judge. I think people gave me more of a pass because of the wheelchair.”
Wilder wrinkled his nose, but he had a feeling it was true. The residents of Savannah meant well, but they fell on the side of over-compensation. None of them bothered to learn ASL, but Remi had set up a captions screen for the Fourth of July show the year before that attempted to auto describe the fireworks sounds. The teenagers found the gibberish hilarious, and Wilder felt both singled out and touched all at the same time.
They were better about it now, but he knew why Luca wasn’t getting a pass from most of the historic district locals.
“Well, maybe today will change his mind.”
“You mean if Kevin doesn’t murder him?” Raphael asked with his brows lifted.
Wilder chuckled. “Something like that.”
Raphael drummed his fingers on the desk, then met Wilder’s gaze. “Are you trying to convince him to go or to stay?”
“I—” And then he stopped, because before his shower that morning, he knew the answer. He didn’t think Luca was going to find what he was looking for in Savannah, but maybe the distance between his old life and now could help him find what he was looking for in himself. Or, at the very least, give the poor man some direction.
But now…
He wasn’t sure, because he didn’t know what he wanted out of it. And although small, Luca felt like a threat to the carefully crafted bubble Wilder had built to protect himself from ever being at risk again.
“He’s fragile,” Raphael said, so softly Wilder mostly had to read it off his lips, which was more difficult than most people, thanks to his accent. “He’s a good person, I think. Deep down.”
Wilder nodded, but he wasn’t sure he needed that sort of convincing. “I’m not going to hurt him. I think he just needs a dose of reality.”
“Well, I can’t argue there,” Raphael said with a smirk. “You text me if things go very wrong.”
