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 to wanting to 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 silence his, 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 simply be.
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 for are, 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 sign how and you,” 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.
Emmett went on to show him some new signs, Wilder mirroring his movements.
He got more of them wrong than he got them right, but the frustration that would normally try to overwhelm him never came because of the joy shining from Emmett’s eyes, the laughter it drew out of him.
He was all too happy to mess up if it meant he got to see that again and again.
His perfectionism was taking a step back for once, and he was enjoying it. He was enjoying himself.
“How do you say dick?”
Emmett’s brows lowered into a frown, and for a moment, he thought he might not answer.
“There’s not really a sign for it. You can fingerspell it or use the sign for penis,” Emmett said, showing him the sign.
“Doesn’t really have the same umph, does it?”
“Depends on your expression,” Emmett said with a shrug.
“How’s this?”
He cocked a brow at Emmett, lips pulled into a sly smile as he raised his right hand to his face, moving his middle finger to hit the pad of his thumb the way Emmett had demonstrated.
Emmett chuckled low and shook his head.
“That’ll do it.”
“How do you say―”
“No,” Emmett signed, the snap of his fingers combined with his raised brows driving home exactly what Emmett meant about the expression being important.
“Don’t you finish that thought,” Emmett said, red creeping up his neck.
He felt a smile spread on his lips as he leaned back, arm thrown over the back of the couch.
“No dick talk,” Emmett signed. Well. No penis talk, but he was absolutely going to use that sign as meaning dick.
“Killjoy.”
Emmett rolled his eyes, soft laughter filling the room.
“I should get back to it,” Emmett said and rubbed the back of his shoulder.
“Maybe you should quit for tonight.”
Emmett pursed his lips, gaze moving to the wall and the paint cans, then back to Wilder. Emmett had a stubborn streak that he generally admired, even if it made his job harder.
“Fine,” Emmett sighed.
They shared a soft smile, and then he said, “You pack up in here, and I’ll lock down the gym.”
He headed through the gym to the front, where he knew Dash and Alvis were hanging out.
He sent them home a few dollars richer and then checked all doors and windows, making sure everything was locked.
He was trudging down the stairs from the second floor when he found Emmett waiting for him, looking up with a soft smile and vibrant eyes, jacket on, and his bag in hand.
“You ready?”
Emmett nodded, lifting the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
He led the way down the hallway to the back door, much too aware of Emmett’s soft footsteps right behind him. He opened the door and scanned the parking lot before stepping out and letting Emmett exit.
He handed Emmett his helmet and watched as Emmett pulled it over his head before he put on his own. He dug his key out of his front pocket and mounted the bike, starting the engine before Emmett slid on behind him, arms wrapping tightly around his middle.
He knew Emmett could easily drive Miles’s car here every day while he followed on his bike, but he liked to torture himself by having the man pressed against him. Aside from their time spent together with Emmett teaching him ASL, this was his favorite part of the day.
Riding gave him a sense of freedom he’d never found in anything else.
He tapped Emmett’s leg to let him know to hold on before speeding up.
Emmett’s arms wrapped tighter around him, but not in the panicked way he’d held on the first few times he’d had him on the back of his bike.
It made him smile to himself because just maybe that meant Emmett was feeling that freedom riding with him, too.
He almost slowed down again just so he’d get to feel Emmett pressed against his back for longer, but it wasn’t exactly a long ride to the clubhouse, and soon he was forced to slow down to take the turn down the driveway anyway.
He pulled up next to the neat line of bikes and let Emmett dismount before he put the kickstand down and turned the key. Pulling it out, he looked up to find Emmett with his helmet off and a frown furrowing his brows, his gaze on the car parked next to Miles’s in front of the garage.
Wilder pulled his helmet off and asked, “What is it?”
“My brother’s here,” Emmett said, lips twitching, and then he turned his gaze back on Wilder. “I didn’t know he was coming.”
“Is that good or bad?”
Emmett’s shrug didn’t ease his worries one bit. It only made that protectiveness he felt for Emmett flare higher.
He got off his bike and gently tugged Emmett’s helmet out of his hand to place it on the seat of his bike next to his own.
“Wanna escape?”
Emmett arched a brow at him, his lips pulling up at the corners.
“He’d just make everyone look for me.”
“Who says he’d find you?”
Emmett’s eyes were sparkling with laughter as he shook his head and wagged a finger at Wilder. “Don’t you go giving me ideas.”
“Hmm. What kind of ideas are you getting?”
Color filled Emmett’s cheeks, and fuck if it didn’t send his heart racing.
He couldn’t get enough of this man. It was wreaking havoc on him, on his control.
He’d drop to his knees right then and there if Emmett asked him to.
He wanted to see those eyes dark with need.
He needed to feel Emmett pressed against him, that ass he knew would fit perfectly in his hands.
Fuck. He was getting hard just thinking about it.
“We should―” He cleared his throat. “Go inside.”
Emmett nodded, his gaze much too captivating. He couldn’t look away. He was downright beautiful. Both on the inside and the outside. There wasn’t a single thing he didn’t like about him, and no matter how much that scared him, he wanted Emmett too much to care.