Chapter 22

Gazing off at the mountains, he wondered if that was the answer—to go there and let his animal side free. But he knew it wouldn’t work. He’d done that often enough in the past few months and for a brief time he’d manage to recapture the joy of being alive, only to lose it again as soon as he returned to the city and his studio.

How can one man, who’s probably forgotten I even exist, hold such sway over me? How can I let him? Because I’m a fool.

Turning, he walked to the door. A fool, maybe, but still…

He opened the door and froze. Mick stood there, his hand raised to knock.

“I was just…just going to…” Wynn stuttered out.

Mick pushed past him into the room. “Close the door. We need to talk.”

The anger in Mick’s voice shocked Wynn into compliance. He did as Mick had ordered then stood, mute, ashe looked at him. He appeared the same, just the way he remembered him—tall, dark-haired, muscular, broad-shouldered, scowling. All right, I don’t remember the scowl.