Love Him Wild Read online

  Love Him Wild

  Book Three of On The Market

  E.M. Lindsey

  Love Him Wild

  E.M. Lindsey

  Copyright © 2020

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any events, places, or people portrayed in the book have been used in a manner of fiction and are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance is purely coincidental.

  Cover by Amai Designs

  Art by Marceau

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Coming Soon

  Acknowledgments

  Also by E.M. Lindsey

  About the Author

  Foreword

  I would like to first give a shout-out to my two beta/sensitivity readers for Ronan. Multiple-sclerosis comes in more than one form, and affects the people who have it in a myriad of ways. Although no two experiences are the same, I tried to put together a general experience to encompass what most people with MS go through to some degree. I would like to give an extra special thank you to Walter for your stories about what it was like to be diagnosed young, and to navigate the world of being queer and disabled. You helped breathe real life into Ronan, and for that, your expertise was invaluable.

  This book also contains the tricky subject of past parental abuse. It is not listed in extreme detail, but the abuse and abuse-recovery aspect in the book may be triggering for some. Also I’d like to point out that some of the worst things survivors hear are the questions, “Why did you stay for so long?” and “Why did you go back?” There is no one answer, and sometimes there is never an answer. There never needs to be an answer. Staying or leaving has no bearing on the strength of a person, and all survivors deserve respect, and all survivors deserve to be believed. If this is a tough topic for you, please take caution when reading this book.

  Thanks for coming on this journey with me, and please make sure you scroll to the end for a bonus scene and the link to Parker, Ronan, and Jonas’ extra epilogue on Prolific Works.

  All my love,

  Elaine x

  “In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors.”

  William Blake

  Chapter One

  Ronan never quite understood the compulsion to keep who he was a secret. Maybe it was the weight of expectation. He was the youngest of three boys, and they had been raised with the mentality that they had a specific role to play in life. The first two had all gone out into the world to do big, important things, one military and one police officer. They were bold, and they were brave. They were also a lot older than him, Rodger out of the house just before Ronan was five, and Richard following two years later. His mom was always sweet, but she was more like a grandmother than a mother by the time it got to the kind of parenting that really counted. She was in her thirties when her first son was born, so by the time Ronan was a teenager, she and his father had already retired.

  When people asked Ronan what he was going to be when he grew up, he never really had an answer. His parents looked at him like he wasn’t going to do anything else but follow in his brothers’ footsteps, because why wouldn’t he? It didn’t matter that the last thing in the world he wanted was to live that kind of life. It didn’t matter that he was nothing like his brothers.

  The only thing that mattered was living up to their expectation of him. Important job, married by twenty-five, kids a few years later. Be the dutiful son, husband, and father. Easy as that.

  It made more sense for Ronan to just play pretend in that role his parents and siblings wanted him to fill. He went to the same high school they did—and he was worse at sports and better at science, but everyone knew him and that was fine. He had Fitz and Parker by his side, and with them, he could be a softer, more nervous version of himself that didn’t have to act a certain way so no one would look a little deeper.

  But by the time he was in high school, he didn’t want to ignore the swooping feelings he had simmering low in his belly whenever Parker smiled at him. They’d had an eight-year long friendship that started the second day of first grade when Parker pounced on him and punched him in the face with the hook of his prosthetic arm after Ronan laughed at the gap in his teeth and the funny lilt to his words.

  It was a stupid way to gain respect, but it had worked. Ronan had a bloody nose, Fitz laughed until he almost peed his pants, and Parker had two new best friends. Ronan didn’t quite know what to make of the way Parker made him feel—but it wasn’t the same as Fitz. He admired his reckless abandon as he threw himself headlong into any challenge presented to them, even if it meant Parker walked away bruised and bloody or, twice in middle school, suspended.

  It made Ronan’s heart beat faster and breath get a little tighter, and it didn’t take long for him to put two and two together—to realize he felt differently about Parker than he did about anyone else. He decided to ignore it, of course, because Ronan wasn’t about to tell anyone the truth. He couldn’t risk losing what they had—he couldn’t risk Fitz looking at him like he was a freak or his parents trying to pray away his affliction. He couldn’t stand the thought of Parker looking at him with disgust in his eyes, so he bit his tongue and said nothing and resolved to keep it that way. Forever.

  And that might have worked, if Parker hadn’t been the brave, reckless, beautiful boy that he was. Even at fourteen, still too skinny and freckle-faced and tripping over his feet, he was ethereal. Ronan could see the man he was going to grow up and become, and he choked on his own bitterness when he thought ahead to Parker’s future with a super model wife and three blonde kids.

  They’d probably take over the world.

  And Ronan would just be…himself. Quiet, maybe a little bossy, and kind of an asshole. He’d work some dead-end job and endure his parents’ endless disappointment that nothing had ever mattered to him more than this little town and the people there who were his family.

  But Parker wasn’t content to let it end like that, and Ronan probably should have suspected it, because Parker had been weird that week and staring at Ronan like he’d grown a second head. He thought maybe Parker would just get over it—find some girl and get his rocks off and then go back to normal, but it didn’t happen that way. He stood in front of the class and lied to their PE teacher, saying there was an emergency rehearsal in band. Coach Smith didn’t seem to give a single shit as he waved them off, and Ronan let Parker take his hand, dragging him to the band room which was almost pitch black and should have been locked.

  “We’re not even in band,” he hissed as Parker pulled him further into the room. “He’s going to figure that out.”

  He heard Parker’s soft, contagious laugh, feeling his own mouth quirk up in the corners even though he wanted to keep scowling. “Nah
, he won’t. I told him I played the fucking flute, and he believed me. He is so stupid.”

  Ronan snorted, but then let out a huff of surprise when Parker’s warm hand grabbed him by the base of the throat and shoved him up against the wall. They were in a corner, a dip between the bricks, which wouldn’t have hidden them from anyone if it wasn’t so dark.

  “What are you doing?” Ronan’s voice was a hoarse, sharp, terrified whisper, reflecting the raging tremor of his hands and the swooping in his belly—because Parker touched him a lot, but never like this.

  “Remember during the camp out in October? When I snuck off to meet Jill?”

  “Yes,” Ronan said and was proud of himself for not sounding like he was grinding his teeth together. It was the fall trip, and boys were separated from girls, but Jillian Lasky had smiled at him across the fire pit, and Parker managed to sneak off, returning half an hour later with a hickey on his neck and a smile not even Fitz could punch away.

  Parker’s grip on his throat loosened, but it didn’t leave his skin. It was searing hot, and his entire existence felt boiled down to those points where Parker’s five existing fingers pressed into him. It wasn’t entirely new to be touched by his friends. In private, the boys were affectionate with each other. Fitz was a cuddler when he was allowed to be, and Ronan didn’t mind it. They would die before saying a word to their friends, but right there, in that moment, it was something entirely new. It was a quiet fantasy he’d never let himself acknowledge, and he was too afraid to hope for more now.

  He lost his breath when Parker’s fingers crept up toward his chin, like he was feeling his way there. His prosthetic arm was a hard weight against his hip, the hook opening and pinching around a clump of his shirt.

  “I need to tell you something, and I want you to promise me you won’t freak out,” Parker said.

  Ronan swallowed thickly. “Okay.” It wasn’t a promise he wanted to make, but for Parker, he’d probably promise him the moon and figure out a way to deliver.

  “I saw you look at me in gym last week. In the showers.”

  Ronan felt his entire body erupt into a hot, furious blush. He had looked, he just hadn’t realized Parker noticed. It was steamy, and the boys were all smacking each other with wet wash cloths, but Parker was ignoring them to wash up. He was at the corner stall with his ass white and bare, his head tipped back. Ronan hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away. Then Parker turned his body, and Ronan saw that he was hard. Parker had touched himself then, just one quick tug on his cock before he turned his body away, and it was then Ronan knew there was no turning back.

  “Why did you bring me to a fucking dark room to kick my ass?” Ronan ground out. “Why wait this fucking long?”

  “What? Jesus, Ronan, I don’t want to kick your ass,” Parker said. His voice was breathless and soft. “I mean, you liked it, didn’t you? When you saw me hard? When you saw me touch myself?”

  Ronan squeezed his eyes shut, though it didn’t matter in the dark classroom. Parker knew the answer, but Ronan didn’t have the courage to say it aloud. “Are you going to tell Fitz?”

  “No.” Parker huffed a laugh, then nosed along Ronan’s jaw, drawing out the softest whimper from his chest. “Have you ever kissed a girl?”

  Ronan’s swallow got caught in his throat, and he had to force it down. “No. You fucking know I haven’t.”

  “Have you kissed a boy?”

  “Why the hell would I…” This time, Ronan did try to break free, but Parker’s lean body was surprisingly strong. He shoved Ronan back again, stealing his breath for a moment as he hit the bricks.

  “I haven’t kissed a boy,” Parker said thoughtfully. “I kissed Jill a lot. She even touched my dick through my boxers.”

  Ronan felt turned on and angry all at once that someone else had touched him. And then he felt humiliated because obviously Parker knew. His friend was an asshole, but he hadn’t thought him cruel until right now. “Let me go. Please. God, I’ll…I’ll get my mom to transfer me or something, okay?”

  “Ronan,” Parker whispered.

  Ronan shook his head. “Just…”

  “You’d be my first. Boy, I mean,” Parker said. His hand moved again, this time to Ronan’s cheek. “Do you want to be?”

  “I,” Ronan said. The answer was yes. The answer was god yes—fuck yes—but his fear gripped him by the throat, because he didn’t know why a boy like Parker—beautiful and bright like a supernova—would look at him. All the girls wanted Parker, all of them, and Ronan knew he wasn’t the only boy looking, either.

  So why him? Why would Parker want the boy with the permanent scowl and attitude problem? The one no one else gave a second look to.

  “Talk to me,” Parker whispered, leaning in close. His breath smelled like Reese’s Cups and his skin like sweat from their brief time outside for PE. “Ronan.”

  And the truth was, Ronan had never been able to deny either of his friends anything. Not when they asked and not when they didn’t.

  “I’m nobody,” he said. His voice was choked with fear and anxiety. He wanted Parker to stop, but he also wanted him to keep going, and it was too much. “I’m nobody.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Parker hissed. His prosthetic arm went tighter around his waist, the hard casing digging into Ronan’s back, keeping him grounded. His other hand curled around his neck, thumb pressed to his pulse point. “Don’t you fucking dare ever call yourself nothing. Ever again.”

  Ronan let out a soft noise that was maybe a sob, but he didn’t have time to think about it because it was swallowed up by Parker’s mouth. His lips were chapped, and his tongue was too wet and so foreign, but Ronan opened himself up to it anyway. He was painfully hard and shaking and shit-scared and the happiest he had ever, ever been.

  “Ronan,” Parker whispered again when he broke the kiss. He brushed his lips along Ronan’s cheeks.

  “We can’t tell anyone. My parents,” he breathed out. “My brothers.”

  Parker bowed his head and pressed it to Ronan’s collarbone. His breathing was a little hitched, and for the first time, Ronan sensed nerves in him. “I get it.”

  “I’m not ashamed of…of this. Of you. But I don’t think I can…”

  Parker cut him off, his sticky fingers pressed to Ronan’s mouth. “I get it. It’s okay. As long as you promise to kiss me again.”

  Ronan sniffed and when Parker dragged his hand back, he nodded. “Yeah. Okay but…but don’t kiss Jill anymore.”

  Parker laughed, and he pushed his nose into Ronan’s cheek so hard it had to hurt. “Fine. You dick. But you have that stupid scout camping trip next weekend. Will you make it worth my while?”

  In that moment, Ronan had no idea how that promise would change everything. In that moment, he just knew he’d do whatever it took to get Parker alone and prove it was what he wanted.

  He just didn’t realize the cost would be so high.

  Ronan didn’t complain once about the pain from his burns, which were his reward for pushing his hands into a blazing fire and pulling his best friend free. He wore them like the stripes of self-flagellation, each day staring at the blisters as a reminder of what his thoughtlessness had cost him. He’d seen Fitz three times—once while he was still unconscious and intubated and twice when he was awake but drugged so heavily Ronan wasn’t sure his friend recognized him.

  His own burns healed, leaving speckled scars across the tops of his hands that would fade in time. They were nothing compared to the wreck Fitz had become. Ronan had stood by his bed and stared at him, at the patches of hair that had burned away and the mess of raw, open wounds from his neck down to fingers that he couldn’t see for the thick bandages that were supposed to help save him from amputation. He stayed just long enough for Fitz’s mom to explain that they still weren’t sure if he was going to be able to keep his arm, and then he left.

  Parker had been there, casting Ronan a surreptitious glance across the room, and Ronan panicked. If they found out, if they knew
what sneaking off with Parker had cost one of the few good people in his life, they’d never forgive him. Just like he couldn’t forgive himself.

  As Fitz healed, Ronan spent more time in the woods than out of it. He stopped going to class, and eventually, Parker stopped looking for him. Parker went to visit Fitz in rehab alone, and when Fitz returned, Parker swam with him and ran with him and worked alongside the therapists Fitz’s parents brought in from Denver.

  And Ronan continued to hide. He couldn’t look Fitz in the eye, so he stopped trying to look at him at all. He sat on the opposite side of the classroom from him and he ate his lunch under the bleachers, and he was never more grateful that the night of graduation, their names were six students apart.

  Fitz was too tired to keep trying to win Ronan’s attention, and Ronan was grateful, because he would never feel worthy of the easy way Fitz forgave everyone. Parker was a different story, but Ronan couldn’t look at him for other reasons. Because he still loved him, those long three years of separating himself from the people he once trusted most in the world. He loved him, and he wanted him, and that selfish desire had almost killed someone he loved just as much. But Parker had never stopped trying. He cornered Ronan in hallways and found him on weekends and never, ever stopped staring across the room.