Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)(13)

I sniff and look away at the screen, trying to regain my equilibrium, though it’s hard under the searing gaze of the giant beside me. “Yikes. Imagine being booted out onto the street by a friend who genuinely likes you.”

The growl that rumbles in Rhys’s chest is animal-like. I swear I can feel him vibrating beside me. But I don’t care. The truth hurts.

And that’s why I can’t bring myself to look at him either.

“Seems like there’s some serious animosity between you two.” Trixie sounds borderline amused. “But we should save those issues for another day. We can focus on Milo today if you’re interested.”

“Yes,” I say. Talking to someone impartial sounds fucking amazing.

Rhys stiffens and huffs out a curt, “Sure.”

“Can you two figure out a way to work together for Milo’s well-being?”

“Yes,” we both answer instantly. I fight the urge to look over at the man beside me, both relieved and annoyed by his response—and by his dedication to my nephew.

“Well, that’s as good a place to start as any. Because the first thing you both need to understand is that this little boy is going to need to know he’s safe and loved every single day. He needs community. He needs a team.”

I nod along, trying to ignore the rigid six-foot-four body beside me.

“At his age, the way he processes the death of his mother will differ from yours as fully functioning adults.”

“That’s generous,” I mutter beneath my breath so only Rhys can hear me. I’m rewarded by his heel bumping against mine in a silent reprimand.

So I place my foot right on top of his and grind my heel into the bridge of his. One dark eye twitches on the screen, but otherwise, he doesn’t react.

Childish? Yes.

Satisfying? Also, yes.

“Milo will have three big questions in his mind, and I’ll write these down for you in a follow-up email, so just listen for now.” She lifts a finger. “One, how does this affect me? You will need to be able to tell him that much of his life will stay the same. Two, am I safe? We will want to contribute to his sense of safety by not creating any other major changes in his life. So, it will fall to you both to make him feel safe. And question three is what’s happening to me next?”

She leaves that last question open, suspended in the dead space between us, as though she knows that’s the real kicker. I see it as my cue to make a point.

“So uprooting Milo and moving him away from his family would not be in his best interest?”

The woman’s cheeks pull back in a knowing grimace, and her eyes flit to Rhys as she answers with a simple “No.”

He stares back at the screen blankly.

“Unless you have reason to believe the child is in danger or is being mistreated in his current setting, I would not move him. Not yet.”

Not yet.

Hope and dread crash against each other in my gut.

“I’m not a Canadian citizen,” Rhys states. “My home base is in Florida. My work takes me on the road. I can only legally stay here for so long.”

Trixie just nods. “That’s a shame.”

“Yup. You’re a Florida Man if I ever saw one,” I mutter quietly while trying to brush the grass stain off my knee again, wishing I could be on my best behavior and failing all the same. His indifference makes me too heated.

Did he not hear what this professional just told us? Who gives a flying fuck about where he works? It’s not about him.

An awkward silence descends until Trixie speaks again. “I am not the child’s guardian. I don’t know either of you or your backgrounds. But, generally speaking, children are best served in a familiar setting, surrounded by familiar people.”

She’s not telling us what to do, but the writing is on the wall. And I can tell by Rhys squirming that he doesn’t like the implication. But this seems like something he and I can brawl over later. Because for as much of an asshole as he is, I don’t get the sense that he’s going to steal Milo away in the middle of the night.

I clear my throat. “Can we touch on the best way to tell him? I just—” My voice breaks, and it takes me a second to regain my composure.

I swallow.

I blink.

I roll my lips together.

And then I feel a big, warm hand on my knee.

One I wasn’t expecting. One I have no idea how to feel about. And one I can’t look away from.

Tan skin, thick fingers, streaked with veins.

My eyes flit to Rhys, but he’s not looking at me. His fingers pulse on my leg, and I’m too confused by his reassuring touch to react.

He doesn’t remove his hand, and that works for me, because it leaves me just bewildered enough to take a deep breath and continue. “I just don’t know how to explain this to him.”

Trixie nods sadly, eyes shining with compassion. “You tell him directly. You will use words like death, and died, and dead. Terms like passed away or isn’t with us anymore will only confuse him. I know these words can be uncomfortable and hard to say, but it will give him the best understanding. He needs to comprehend that he will not be seeing his mother anymore. That when people die, their hearts stop beating. And we won’t cover it with talking about her as being”—her knobby fingers come up in air quotes—“‘sick.’ Because, again, he will relate that back to himself. The next common cold he gets will cause unnecessary stress.”