The nickname that he once tried to act as if he hated is what has the corner of his lips curving into a ghost of a smile, some of the unease bleeding out of him, loosening him just enough that he nods again and turns back toward the house, then slowly walks up the sidewalk to the front door.
Each step is measured, hesitant even, but a step nonetheless.
The pale, robin-egg-blue door is cracked and peeling, and the brass doorknocker rattles loosely when I reach up and rap it. The house itself has seen better days, but it still stands tall.
I can hear the steady breaths that Wilder drags in while we wait, and I wish that I could reach for him, hold his hand, touch him to reassure him, but I can’t.
The reminder of our reality hits me directly in the chest so hard that I almost stumble backward a step.
It’s easy to forget that we exist in secret and not out loud when it’s just the two of us, wrapped in each other, when no one else but us matters.
It’s moments like this when it feels impossible not to love Wilder out loud the way that my heart aches to.
The front door swings open to an older woman with gray hair tied at her nape, her features sharp, even with softening skin framed with wrinkles, her lips tight and narrow as she peers back at us.
“Wilder,” she says, her voice softer than she appears. As severe as she looks, her pale green eyes seem warm, kind even. “My God. I can’t believe you’re… grown.”
Wilder’s stiff beside me, his muscles coiled tight. I turn to glance up at him, and I see his jaw tense and set, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows roughly. “Mrs. Aucoin.” The words are hoarse and heavy, laced with a rawness I’ve never heard from him. “It’s been… a long time.”
The woman nods, offering a small smile. “That it has. Thank you for coming today. It is going to mean so much to the children. I hope you know how much I appreciate it.”
He nods. Then, he looks down at me. “This is Maisie Delacroix.”
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Aucoin. I’m the student liaison for OU’s children’s literacy program.” I stick my hand out for her to shake, and she does, giving me a more reserved smile than she did Wilder.
Behind us, thunder rolls somewhere in the distance, followed by a flash of lightning that has my hair standing on end.
I hadn’t realized how dark the sky had gotten until now.
“Oh goodness,” Mrs. Aucoin murmurs as she stares out into the distance behind us. “I need to make sure everyone is inside before this rain hits. Please, come in.”
Wilder glances down at me, like he needs reassurance that I’m still here, and swallows hard before stepping across the threshold. I have to physically stop myself from reaching for his hand again as I follow closely behind him.
Mrs. Aucoin quickly excuses herself to check on the children, leaving us alone in the foyer.
The inside of the house is much like the outside. Older, worn by time, desperate for an update.
But it’s tidy and doesn’t feel as… cold as I expected it would. For some reason, I had pictured this place differently. More barren and impersonal… Now I see that’s not the case.
It doesn’t lack warmth or comfort, but it does feel like it lacks something more important.
Love.
My gaze shifts to Wilder, to where he’s standing with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his pants, looking around the room like he’s reliving the memories stitched into the walls.
I take a step toward him, and his attention darts to me, his dark brown eyes bleary. “Looks the same as it did… Back then.” His throat bobs, and he drags his eyes over the bannister along the staircase that leads to the second floor. “Almost broke my arm falling down those when I was seven. Feels like I’m stepping back in fucking time.”
“I broke my arm when I was ten, falling down the stairs,” I tell him, turning my wrist over to show him the scar that runs in a faint line up my wrist. “My only broken bone and surgery.”
I’m trying to distract him the only way that I can think of, and it works. He reaches for me, circling my wrist with his fingers, gently sweeping his thumb along the faint white scar. It’s a quiet gesture, but it feels perfect to connect us when it feels like we’re miles apart, despite standing right beside each other.
A throat clearing has Wilder dropping my hand and me nearly jumping out of my skin, both of us taking a step away.
Mrs. Aucoin smiles as her gaze bounces between the two of us. “Sorry about that. I wanted to get the kids situated before the storm hit. They’re unable to sit still with excited energy today, so we wanted them to exercise it all out.”
“It’s an exciting day for them,” I say with a nod, forcing my gaze not to flit to Wilder. “The kids at our program are the same way. They love when the guys read to them. They always have a ton of questions after. It’s always a lot of fun.”
“Well,” she says, gesturing down the hallway, “let’s get started, then, shall we? I’m sure you’ve got a busy schedule. Both of you.”
