Page 165 of His Boys to Protect

“I was a coward,” John admitted, “and I ran away. I've regretted it every day since that I didn't stay with him back then. We could have had so much more time together.” John paused, taking a sip of his beer. “It's possible Skylar did the same thing. Ran away while you weren't looking. Maybe he was afraid of something. Maybe he's hurting just as much as you are.”

Ward nodded. He knew that much. When he'd first brought Skylar away from the city, the poor boy had looked wrecked over the prospect of leaving Charlie behind. Especially when he'd admitted that he'd always planned to leave Charlie for good.

Wherever he was, Skylar was probably devastated.

“So what are you gonna do?” John asked.

Ward picked at the label on his beer. “What can I do? I have no idea why he left. Or where the hell he even went. What's the point, anyway? He doesn't want to be here. It wasn't like I couldforce him to stay.” Ward scoffed. “He leftCharlie. If he could do that, leaving me was probably nothing.”

John winced. “Maybe he'll come back. Maybe you'll get a second chance, like I did with Adam.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ward mumbled.

But he wasn't holding his breath. He was certain he'd never see Skylar again.

Chapter 58

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SKYLAR

SKYLAR STARED at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He looked like shit. His skin was pale. His eyes, bloodshot. His face was unshaven, but he honestly rather liked that part. Still, overall, he looked like death warmed over. And no wonder, considering how much he'd been crying.

At least he could explain it all away as part of his surgery lie. Though, truth be told, he looked far worse now than he had in the days immediately following the procedure.

Still, Uncle Zeke was buying it. The man had gone out of his way to make sure Skylar was comfortable. Since Skylar 'couldn't'work, he carefully did chores around the apartment to help out, but Uncle Zeke made sure he never had to lift anything or move around for too long. Skylar had to keep reminding himself of that. It was all part of the lie.

He'd figured he had at least a month before he had to start working again. A month to prepare himself. Except over a week of that month had already gone by, and he wasn't any closer to facing the inevitable.

The thought of letting anyone touch him—letting anyoneinsidehim—was enough to make him sick.

Skylar covered his mouth with one hand and pressed the other hand to his belly. He held his breath, waiting. The queasiness slowly subsided but never truly went away. Skylar hung his head and braced his hands on the edge of the counter. He stared down into the pristine sink, which he'd just cleaned for what felt like the millionth time over the past several days. If he didn't keep busy with something, he'd go mad.

Because the alternative was to simply sit and dwell on what was coming.

He'd be plenty busy tomorrow. It was Thanksgiving, and Uncle Zeke would be hosting his best friends and clients who had no family, no one with whom to celebrate. They'd done this dinner every year, just like Christmas. It usually meant Skylar and some of the other escorts serving as the night's entertainment.

Luckily, Skylar was off the hook this time. He'd assumed Uncle Zeke could make him suck cocks in lieu of spreading his legs, but even that was off the table. Uncle Zeke had told him that he could help make dinner—carefully—but that was it. While the after-dinner party commenced, Skylar would be sent to bed.

Where he could spend another night, all alone, missing Ward and Charlie.

Skylar shivered and hugged himself, rubbing his arms. The temperature was plenty comfortable inside the apartment, but he couldn't help feeling cold all the same. He turned away from the bathroom and headed for the closet. The t-shirt he wore wasn't enough. He needed something warmer.

His meager wardrobe took up hardly any space in the closet. Skylar glanced at his shirts, then dropped to his knees and reached for his duffel bag instead. Charlie's old hoodie was still tucked away inside it, safe and out of sight. Skylar grabbed thebag, yanked the zipper open with his right hand, and dug inside it with his left.

He paused there, his fingers clutching the soft fleece. Skylar stared at his arm. At the tattoos covering his skin. His lifeline. The things that made life worth living.

The images didn't seem like enough anymore.

Skylar let go of the bag and traced the line, his eyes tearing up when he pictured Charlie doing the same thing. He started at the heart, just like Charlie always had. Skylar's fingers followed the line all the way down his arm, then back up the other side, stopping again at the point where he'd started.

He choked out a sob, wishing Charlie could be there. Wishing Ward could be there. Wishing there were some way he could brand himself as theirs, for all the world to see. Having them come inside him wasn't enough. He wanted their marks upon his skin.

Skylar paused. He jumped up and ran back to the bathroom, tugging up his sleeve so he could see his entire arm in the mirror. The heart tattoo looked so bare. So empty. More so than it ever had.

He needed to finish it. Needed to mark himself as theirs, even if he'd never see them again.

Skylar ran back to his bag and dug out his phone. It had been tucked away in there since the airport. He hadn't so much as touched it, afraid to turn it on and have Charlie see where he was. He really should have mailed it back to the Pratts by now, but something kept stopping him. Some feeling he couldn't explain.

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