Page 166 of His Boys to Protect

But he couldn't turn it on. Except he had no other way to look up the number he needed.

Skylar sat back on his heels, torn with indecision. His heart raced with fear and desperation, the two warring within himuntil the latter won out. Skylar turned on his phone, fidgeting with impatience as it started up.

Maybe he'd get lucky, and Charlie wouldn't catch it.

It felt like hours before the phone finally displayed the lockscreen. Skylar opened it up, selected the Contacts icon, and scrolled through the listings to get the number for his tattoo artist.

Shit. Could he even afford it? The cash remaining in his wallet wouldn't pay for more than a few dots. Skylar muttered a curse and switched apps, logging into his bank instead. He couldn't remember how much money he had left after paying for his surgery.

The realization almost made him laugh. As obsessed as he'd been over saving every penny for so many years—keeping such close tabs on exactly how much money he had—now he couldn't begin to guess what was left.

The app opened. Skylar stared at his bank balance, showing just over five hundred dollars. He hoped it would be enough. Even if it wiped him out, he'd do it.

He switched back to his contacts and dialed the number.

The receptionist answered. Skylar gave his name, then had to sit through a minute of small talk since it had been a while since he'd last been in there. Finally, fighting for patience, he asked when was the soonest he could get in to do the last part of his design.

Silence greeted him for a moment, then the receptionist said, “Let me put you on hold for one second.”

Hold music greeted him before he could reply.

Skylar fidgeted, waiting. He eyed a clock on the nightstand by the bed, watching the little dots between the numbers flicking on and off, counting out the seconds. They seemed to flash in slow-motion.

“Okay,” the receptionist said, taking up the call again. “We're supposed to be closing early today, but she said she'll stay late for you if you can be here in an hour.”

Skylar blinked.Holy shit. He shot to his feet and snatched up his shoes. “Really? Criminy, yes! I'll be there!”

“See you soon!”

Skylar ended the call, then yanked on his shoes and grabbed Charlie's hoodie. He ran to the bedroom door, pausing there while he tried to come up with a lie that Uncle Zeke would believe.

Fuck. What could he say? He was too frantic to think. And he couldn't afford to stand there, wasting time. What possible excuse could he give when he was supposed to be staying home and recovering from surgery?

Oh!He'd had to leave Ward's apartment for post-op checkups. Maybe that would work. Skylar took a deep breath and yanked open the door, fighting for calm as he went hunting for Uncle Zeke.

Skylar found the man putting away groceries that he'd just picked up for tomorrow's dinner. Uncle Zeke turned away from the refrigerator and eyed the phone in Skylar's hand.

Shit. He'd forgotten to turn it back off!

Still, he could use it for the moment. Skylar waved it as he explained he'd just gotten a reminder call that he had a post-op appointment that afternoon that he'd forgotten all about.

Uncle Zeke's eyes went wide. “Shit. Okay. Do you need me to drive you, or–”

“No,” Skylar answered a little too quickly. “I mean, you've got so much to do,” he said, waving at the bags all over the counter. “I'll get a taxi or something. I'll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”Please let me go. Please let me go.

“Okay. Just be careful, alright?”

“I will. I'll go easy and take my time,” Skylar promised.

“Good girl,” Uncle Zeke said.

It was all Skylar could do not to wince.

“Call me if you need anything,” Uncle Zeke said.

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