Page 56 of Wild Heart
Austin made a sound like he was impressed. “They do, and we’ll make sure he spends time with the other goats. We just kept him in here today, so we didn’t have to chase him down when you arrived.”
“How often can I come?”
“As often as you’d like. We’re here every day, sunrise to sunset.”
Marcos nodded, hand still on Hay Hay’s back even as he looked away, staring thoughtfully at the edge of the gate as if there was something written there. He gnawed at his lip, thinking hard.
Healing Hooves was an hour from the city. Marcos was likely considering that distance, coupling it with the hard truth that some motherfucker posing as a good father sold his car.
“Solnyshko,” I called.
Brown eyes blinked, and he dragged them away from their spot, following the sound of my voice.
“We’ll get you here, yeah? Every morning before you head into the studio, if that’s what you want.”
“I want that very much,” he whispered, and so when he ran off with his tiny goat, I stepped away to make a call.
ChapterSixteen
Marcos
My heart was a little fucked up. Torn open and patched over. Bleeding but not quite broken, and I loved Ivan with every beat of it.
The scar on his stomach was less of a gash now and more of a memory—a soft red line I often ran my tongue across. Every once in a while, when we were in public, I’d slip my hand beneath his shirt and rub my fingers across the raised skin. Not to remind myself he was healing… but to remind myself it wasthere.
A bullet brought us together, and as much as I hated that scar, I loved it too.
“Solnyshko.” Ivan captured my jaw in his hand, lifting my chin until our eyes met. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
It wasn’t a question… it was an order, and when I didn’t speak right away, he slipped his palm down the column of my neck and rested it at the base of my throat. My bones shook beneath the weight of his focus. There was something so cunning about the way he stared at me, so predatory and single-minded.
The ice in his eyes wasn’t afraid of a little fire, and any time I displayed even a measure of distress, the heat of my body would touch the frozen parts of his.
I melted into his hold and placed both hands on his bare chest. The beat of his heart knocked against my palms. It was stronger than mine was, impatient and erratic, as he studied my lips and each time they opened to take a breath.
We each wore shadows across our bodies and a sliver of morning sun as it fought through the cracks of dark curtains, working its way through our bedroom the way it did every morning. The light was soft. Delicate. It touched my papa ever so cautiously, and I was drawn to the way it made him glow.
“Solnyshko,” he said again, but he already had my attention.
All of it.
Always.
“I can’t start my day until I know what’s bothering you. You tell Papa what’s wrong, and I’ll fix it, yeah?”
“Toby is coming back to dance today.”
“And you’ve been avoiding him.”
It was instantaneous.
The ache.
It struck me like a knife to the gut, and I sort of…wantedit. Like maybe the wound would release the guilt in a way my screams never could.
“Toby is the closest thing to a brother I've had since Manny passed, and he doesn’t know. Not about Manny. Not about you.”
“You don’t owe him your grief, Solnyshko. Fuck that. Your pain is your business, and just because he shared his doesn’t mean you have to share yours.”
