He could barely see around Wilder’s wide shoulders, but he wasn’t surprised to find that Wilder’s hands were now withoutgloves. He knew better than to try and give them back. Out of the two of them, Wilder was definitely the most stubborn.
He held on tight as the bike moved forward, resting his head against the back of Wilder’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, taking in the vibrations of the motorcycle under them, the hard muscles of Wilder’s back, the ease with which Wilder maneuvered them through the traffic trickling through the dark streets.
There was still a small flare of sun across the sky, and he felt as if they were driving toward it. He’d always loved those pink and orange tones lighting up the sky. It gave it an almost ethereal look. Why that reminded him of Wilder, he didn’t know.
They turned into a wooded area, and even though he’d normally get creeped out by the darkness surrounding them, all he felt was safe pressed against Wilder’s broad back. They weren’t exactly on a road, just a light path that led deeper into the forest. Wilder had slowed down the bike, and Emmett pulled back, keeping his arms firmly around Wilder as he looked around at the tall trees surrounding them, blanketing them in darkness with their wide crowns.
The bike came to a stop, and he put his hands on Wilder’s shoulders to push himself up and hoisted his right leg over the bike, stepping back onto the ground. Wilder turned off the engine, and silence fell over them. He tugged off Wilder’s gloves and pulled his helmet off. He handed them to Wilder, who left both on the seat along with his own helmet.
“This isn’t creepy at all,” Emmett noted, brows raised at Wilder, whose lips spread in a wry smile.
Wilder took his hand and tugged. His feet moved on their own accord, following Wilder down a small path in the thick brush. It took him a moment to realize that the only things he could hear were the crunch of their footsteps, wind rustling the leaves on branches, and the low hum of noise from animals.
They stepped into a clearing that revealed a small lake. It was a beautiful sight with the last few rays of sun in the distance, bathing the trees in a soft light reflected in the surface of the lake.
“This is where I go when I need to be alone.”
Warmth spread through him, and as he ran his gaze over Wilder’s face, he realized just how much this meant to Wilder. How much it meant to have Wilder share it with him.
With Wilder’s arms around him, Emmett leaned his head against his chest and breathed in. Wilder smelled like leather, woods, and that hint of danger he was coming to associate with him, but hefeltlike safety. Wilder felt inevitable in a way that should’ve terrified him. Yet, as they stood there, watching the stillness of the water together, breathing in the fresh smell of trees and grass, he’d never felt more at ease in his life.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Wilder
SHARING SOMETHING that felt so intimate to him had been hard, and yet at the same time, it had been the easiest thing he’d ever done. Emmett had needed it and, perhaps, so had he. He wasn’t used towantingto share his solitude with anyone, but if there was someone who understood the beauty in silence, it was Emmett.
Most of his life, he’d been afraid of the silence. For so long, it had meant bad things were about to happen, and he’d spent years filling that silence with words, with jokes, until he realized that if he made the silencehis, then it couldn’t hurt him. It couldn’t make his heart race. It wouldn’t make that death grip of anxiety surface. It would simplybe.
He reached into the fridge, fingers wrapping around a bottle of water. Emmett was notoriously not taking care of himself when he was locked into painting, which of course gave him even more excuses to seek him out. He was trying to get everything ready for opening day, but it took a while when he found himself gravitating toward the boxing room time and again.
He pushed through the double doors, halting just inside to watch Emmett. He was painting, his brushstrokes measured and even, his attention wholly on the wall and the mural that was starting to come together.
“I can feel you hovering,” Emmett said, gaze remaining on the wall as he finished another brushstroke.
He chuckled, starting toward Emmett, who finally turned toward him, dropping his paintbrush on top of the paint can as he approached.
“Water,”he signed before handing the bottle to Emmett.
“Thank you,”Emmett signed, making Wilder smile.
He was learning. Slowly, but surely.
They headed toward the couch, Emmett sitting down with a sigh, rolling his head from side to side on his shoulders. Wilder lowered himself to sit on the couch in the opposite end, though he kept only about a foot between them so they could both turn and see each other as they signed.
He waited for Emmett to have a drink of water before he signed,“How are you?”and,not knowing the sign forare, he fingerspelled it instead.
The quirk of Emmett’s lips had his brows raising.
“There’s no sign for are, is, or be. We don’t use it.”
Wilder opened and closed his mouth, biting back a sound of frustration. There was still so much he didn’t know or understand, and it annoyed the shit out of him. He wanted to be able to speak to Emmett in his language.
“How would you…?”
“You just signhowandyou,” Emmett explained as he signed those two words.
Wilder hummed, leaning back against the couch cushion as he filed that information away for future use.
