Ziggy’s Voice (The Wilde Men #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

ZIGGY

Wilde’s End is a lot of things to me.

It’s a place to lose myself.

It’s a new beginning.

It’s shelter and hopelessness and beauty and untamed wilderness.

It’s my home.

And it’s also where I met Kennedy Bellamy.

He’s got music playing through his phone, large body moving to the unfamiliar sounds, and whenever I’m around him, things feel loud.

Ever since I first saw him singing and dancing along to “My, My, My,” one of the few songs I recognize, it created this connection between us that is completely one-sided but I can’t seem to let drop.

Kennedy has a constant hum of life orbiting him, and I want to step into the pull and be swept up in the chaos.

I won’t though. Because that kind of life-altering jump isn’t for people like me.

Kennedy is a hurricane.

I’m a leaf starting its slow descent to the forest floor, far, far away.

He pulls off a step-slide thing, and damn, he looks hot doing it. Even wearing a full white jumpsuit with hood, face mask, and goggles for protection. The insulation he’s cutting and fitting in the wall cavity has caught on everything in tiny, fluffy clumps.

I’ve done all the electrical work I can for today, so I plant my ass on my toolbox and watch him, at war with myself.

I have two distinct sides of my personality, and it’s anyone’s guess who’ll win on any given day.

There’s the scared side that refuses to let go of everything that’s happened to me, and then there’s the spark of a person trapped.

The side of me that wants to break out and be a normal goddamn person.

That side gets stronger with Kennedy around.

While I love living in this town, and I love that people mind their own business, we’re mostly loners out this way, and it works for me. Until now, maybe it doesn’t.

I didn’t know people like Kennedy could exist.

Always singing, whistling, talking, moving.

He’s just so … happy.

I wish I could tell him what a good quality that is, but I can never find my moment.

Whenever the words get trapped in my throat, the stress of letting them out almost chokes me.

It takes me a really long time to get my thoughts in order, and then I have to run the words through my mind over and over until I feel ready to open my mouth.

Usually by the time I get there, the moment has moved on, and if I let out the words I’ve been building, conversation pulls to a jerky halt with a noise in my head like the obnoxious crunch of dying brakes.

Kennedy yanks me from my thoughts as his exhale huffs from him. He pushes back his hood, flicks up his face mask, and sets his goggles on top of his messy blond hair, sweat damp at his hairline.

“This job’s a pain in the ass,” he says. He crosses the half-demolished house with long strides and throws himself down on the floor beside me. “It’s always when it comes to the insulation that Hart and Hudson are nowhere to be found.”

Even though his brothers have abandoned him to this, his voice is full of affection for them. Personally, I don’t think either of them deserves someone as amazing as Kennedy, and if I could goddamn talk around people, I’d tell them that myself.

I try for a sympathetic smile.

“Ah, it’s okay.” He pats my knee with one of his large, gloved hands, and the spot burns long after he stops. “I like hard work. It makes me feel like I have purpose.”

I know exactly what he means. It’s taken us years to get the solar farm up and operational in Wilde’s End, then connected to all the properties spread out across the land, and I loved having a reason to get up in the morning.

Now that the brothers are doing up the abandoned mining town that we’ve dubbed Old End, I have a new project.

Getting electricity to this town that will be able to support whatever the end goal is.

It’s a really big fucking job.

I’ve craved this kind of purpose again.

“I don’t know what I’ll do after this,” he murmurs.

The contemplative tone catches my attention, even though these musings are common for him. It’s more what he’s contemplating that I’m interested in.

He plows on like he’s picked up on my curiosity.

“Yeah … I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know that we’ll be here for a while.

” He sounds like he’s thinking out loud, and I appreciate that he never expects me to fill in the gaps in conversation, just carries it himself.

“The plan, as far as my brothers are concerned, is that we leave as soon as we’re done here.

Let’s be real, there’s no way Hudson and Wilde are going to last beyond that.

” He throws me a grin like I should be in on the joke, but I only arch my eyebrow his way.

He might not know Wilde, but I do, and I’ve never seen him as restlessly not himself as he’s been since meeting Hudson.

The thought of them ending isn’t something I can picture.

Kennedy studies my face. “You think they’ll last?”

I shrug a little, and then after a moment, I nod.

Why shouldn’t I expect them to last? Wilde willingly left the End and went to a place with people to bring Hudson back here.

Other than his occasional trips into Wayward, he never leaves Wilde’s End, especially not to go to a town as big as the one they came from.

Towns like that scare him. Busy places, mild traffic, being social.

It was … sweet.

Having someone want me so much that they’d face their fears to keep me? I’ll never know what that’s like, because while I might be exploding with feelings for Kennedy, those feelings will only ever go one way.

Because how can you fall for someone who refuses to talk?

“Huh …” Kennedy mutters, expression torn between disbelief and awe.

“You know … my brothers like to joke that I’m the romantic one.

So you’d expect that if one of us was going to find his person in the middle of nowhere, it would be me.

” His sigh is long and heavy, like he loses himself for a moment.

Thankfully, he’s back to his happy self in no time at all.

“Whatever is meant to be, will be, am I right?”

I don’t answer him because I’m not so sure I believe in fate. If fate were real, would it have beaten me down as completely as it has? Would it have left me without a voice while it filled my soul with words?

“Besides,” he continues, like he didn’t ask a question at all. “We have more than enough work to keep us busy here. We can’t afford for two brothers to be distracted by sex.”

A flush rushes through me at him even saying the word. Just like that. Just so casually.

He lifts his hand and waves his fingers between us. “Me and my hand are doing okay together.”

The imagery of Kennedy unzipping that suit and reaching his hand inside, taking hold of his dick …

Holy fuck.

I stand quickly, hands shaking as I attempt to pick up my toolbox and get the hell out of here. I jerk off all the time; I know exactly how good it feels, but I have no idea how good it would feel to do it to him. And I really, really want to.

To see Kennedy’s eyes flutter back as his large body ripples with tension.

“Whoa, hey.” He sets his hand on my toolbox. “I know leaving mid-conversation is your thing, but do you really have to go?”

I don’t answer him because of course I don’t. I have nowhere else to be, and that longing ache in my gut wants to stay right here. The ache between my legs has other plans though.

With Kennedy holding down my things, I’m tempted to leave them there and bail, but his voice keeps me rooted in place.

“Come on … this stupid job isn’t half as annoying with you keeping me company.”

His warm, hopeful voice always melts me.

Like the first person to actually give a shit about me has all the wires in my brain short-circuiting. I know he only wants company, any company, and without his brothers here, I’ll do. That reminder is enough to make my boner flag, and after a long inhale, I can look at him again.

At those sweet, speckled green eyes, his kind face, the way his lips are tugging up in a smile, like they’re trying to show mine how to do the same.

Slowly, I sit back on my toolbox.

“I know you’re taking pity on me,” he says, “but thank you. I’d go out of my mind having to do this alone. One of the things I love about this place is how peaceful it is, but I also don’t do well by myself.”

I know what he means. Having him around helps distract from how loud it gets in my head. The roaring thoughts that are never given life make it hard to sleep at night, and the days I go without seeing anyone make me question if this is even existing.

At least if I moved to a city, I’d not be existing around other people, and the noise might help distract from those depressing thoughts.

On a whim, I reach over and give Kennedy’s sleeve a tug. Then, when I have his attention, I gesture to myself.

His eyes narrow a little, like he’s trying to read me, so I do the motion again.

“You … want one of these?”

It’s a relief that he gets it easily.

“I think Hartwell’s should fit you.”

I nod again, faster, and understanding dawns across his face.

“You’re going to help me.”

I pin him with a look that I hope conveys my what the fuck else would I do with the suit, and it must come close because he laughs and raises his gloved hands.

“Okay, okay, put the sass away. I’ll go grab it.”

The few minutes he’s gone force me to face my decision and come to the conclusion that yes, I am offering to help with the worst job in existence because he has me completely under his thumb.

Without even trying.

I’m a real goddamn sucker.

He gets back faster than I’m expecting and hands over the white coveralls for me to step into. I pull my arms into the sleeves, but before I can reach for the zipper, Kennedy is there.

He’s standing close, radiating sunshine, and pulls the zipper from my waist all the way up to my throat. His hand lingers there.

“This is going to be horrible,” he promises. “Just warning you now.”

Even if I wanted to talk, there’s no way I’d be able to. I’m struggling to breathe with how close he is.

I’m slightly taller than he is, but because of his size, he feels bigger than this goddamn room. Especially when he has no issues holding my eye contact, and as much as I wish I could find some sort of interest there, all I’m picking up is friendly vibes.

I’ve never had much practice with reading people, but Kennedy isn’t a hard guy to read. Unlike everyone here who keeps their secrets under lock and key, I don’t believe he’s ever had a secret in his life.

I can’t imagine what it’s like to live that way.

He lifts a pair of gloves and some goggles.

“They should fit,” he says, proving that the tension I’m feeling is only on my end. “You’re smaller than Hart, but your fingers are longer.”

I frown and direct my gaze to my hands. I’ve never given much thought to anything about me, but as I inspect my hand, Kennedy lifts his beside mine. His is broader, and his fingers are thick and rough.

“See?” He takes my wrist with his other hand and presses our palms together.

The heat from his hand warms me all the way to my shoulder.

The simple touch, his gentle expression, there’s something about this moment that reaches into the dusty, forgotten parts of me and tries to tempt them back to life.

“Your hands are as delicate as the rest of you.”

Delicate?

I’m a shadow, a void, a figment of people’s imaginations. People don’t think about me, and they definitely do not think about words like delicate when it comes to me.

Useless.

Pussy.

Waste of space.

I pull out of his hold and force a smile before I pull on the gloves. Then I point to the insulation, and like that, the moment is gone.

Destined to live in my memories forever.