I was proud of the work I was doing even though my dedication to the studio was keeping me away from my family. Finally my cousin Saint called me on it one Sunday morning just before lunchtime. It was early spring, and the day was warm with a cool breeze blowing across the ranch. “Get the fuck in the house, we’re here for an intervention,” he barked. I could immediately see how he’d succeeded as a Navy SEAL and wondered if maybe they wanted him back. We needed another bossy Wilde man around the ranch like a hole in the head. “West says Wildes don’t do interventions,” I snapped. “Which means
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