Page 36 of His Boys to Protect

Although, if I had a dollar for every time that has happened, I'd be a hell of a lot richer.Skylar shook his head. It was amazing to him, how often people demanded things for free. And not just his own services, but in general. Almost every time he took his car in for service, he overheard someone demanding a freeor discounted repair. Funny how those people never considered the issue from the other side. They would never give away their own time and skills for free, so why did they find it acceptable to demand free things from others?

Granted, Skylar hadn't taken money from Ward, but that was different. That was his own choice.And so utterly worth it!He'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. Ward had given him an experience unlike any other. A little piece of joy—of hope—to hold onto once he ran away and started over.

Skylar closed his eyes.You're so close. Nine more months.He only had to scrimp and pinch every penny for nine more months. Even the smallest luxuries would have to wait. Books. Furniture. Christmas decorations. Clothing without holes. Hell, even a houseplant. Not to mention dozens of other things he'd wanted yet stopped himself from buying. Once he had his surgery and managed to find a new, steady job—somewhere far away, where nobody knew he'd once been a whore—then he could finally seek out all the things he'd been denying himself over the past ten years.

His phone screen was dark. Skylar switched it back on and found his place in his book. He only got through a few pages before he heard tires crunching on the gravel outside. Skylar glanced out the window and nearly gasped at the sight of a pickup truck coming into view.

But the vehicle body was too small. Right make, wrong model. And it was gray, not white. Skylar spotted Ryder behind the wheel as the truck crossed the parking lot and headed for the garage at the far end of the house.

Skylar rolled his eyes at himself. Of course Ward wouldn't have a reason to be there. Not on Christmas Eve.

But it sure would make the day. Skylar scanned the room again, a bittersweet smile tugging at his mouth as he imaginedhaving Ward there, cozied up with them in front of the fire. It was too easy to picture.

Dangerously easy.

Skylar shook off the thought just as Charlie carefully placed his bookmark and stood up.

“Charlie?”

With a scowl, Charlie signed,Upstairs. He left without waiting for a response, heading across the foyer.

Skylar breathed a laugh and jumped up to follow. Charlie must have seen Ryder, too. Both boys were on the spectrum, and they found one another's stimming habits annoying. Thankfully, in a house this big, it was usually easy for them to avoid one another.

Charlie pulled the room key out of his pocket and opened the door. He waited for Skylar to step into the room after him, then shut the door and flipped the lock.

Skylar bit back a smile. There was no need to keep the room locked now that the house was free of guests, but Charlie needed that little bit of context, that delineation between home and here. Skylar honestly loved knowing things like that about him. He loved Charlie's habits. Loved how familiar and predictable it all was.

A wave of impending loss crashed over him, nearly knocking him off his feet.Jeebus. Skylar turned away, blinking rapidly as he fought the urge to cry. He couldn't let Charlie see him like that.

Skylar bent down and unlaced his shoes, knowing Charlie wouldn't want them to go beyond the doorway. Charlie had already taken off his own shoes, and by the time Skylar finished and lined his worn sneakers up against the wall, he managed to wrestle his emotions under control. He straightened up and found Charlie already settled into a chair by the window, hisbook open. Skylar's heart clenched, but he managed to cross the room, sit in the other chair, and pull out his phone.

They read in silence, the only sounds coming from the rustle of clothing as they shifted positions or from Charlie as he quietly turned the pages of his book. The view outside the windows slowly faded as the sun finished its descent. Charlie marked his page and got up to close the curtains before it turned fully dark outside, then he turned on the overhead light and a table lamp. He sat back down and resumed reading.

Skylar pressed his lips together, though whether he was fighting the urge to laugh or cry, he couldn't quite tell. Maybe both. Charlie never turned on the lights before closing the curtains. It was always after. Even though it left the inside so dark that it was difficult to navigate his way to the light switches, it had to be done in that order. Otherwise, someone outside might be able to see into the room.

Charlie was the same way at home. Granted, he knew his house well enough that he could wander all over in the dark just fine. And his family were good about keeping everything where it belonged, for Charlie's sake.

The habit had rubbed off on Skylar himself. He frequently went about his own apartment in the dark, though that was more to save on electricity than anything else. He never opened his makeshift curtains, either. His apartment hadn't come with any kind of window treatments, so he'd tacked up some old sheets. He didn't want the view of the dilapidated neighborhood that surrounded him, anyway. The sheets barely dimmed the street lights, though, allowing him to navigate his apartment just fine.

Skylar glanced at the windows even though the curtains were closed. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to have simple luxuries like that. His home life from his childhood was such a distant memory, it almost didn't even seem real anymore. He'd taken so much for granted back then. Proper curtains on thewindows. Matching sheet sets for his bed. No bills to pay. A kitchen full of food.

Getting thrown out onto the streets had been a major shock all around.

Skylar tried to turn back to his book, then found himself idly scanning the room instead. What would it even be like to have a proper home again? To have reliable living conditions? Right now, the only times he got to enjoy things like warmth and quiet and comfort were when he was staying with Charlie, spending the night with Uncle Zeke, or hidden away in a hotel room with a client. Skylar shuddered. All three instances were like having something tantalizing dangled in his face, only to get snatched away again. Inevitably, he always had to go back to his cold, cramped, lonely apartment.

He hated it, but he'd made the choice. Every time he thought about moving to a nicer place, he knew it would mean putting off his surgery. That thought made him sick. Hehadto get those damned parts cut out of him. The top surgery had helped tremendously, as had the hormone therapy, but he wasn't done. He didn't feel complete.

Not until he could get rid of those last few parts that didn't belong.

Skylar squirmed in his chair. Some days, he almost swore he could feel them, sitting like a lead weight in his gut. An unwanted invader. There had been times when he was so frantic and impatient to get it over with, he imagined cutting them out himself. He'd never do that, of course. It would mean death, for sure.

But the idea was still tempting.

If only it could be as simple as a wish or the wave of a magic wand.

He was simply going to have to wait. To keep working day by day toward the finish line, squirreling away as much money ashe could until he had enough. Once it was over, though? Once the surgery was done and he could leave this life behind?

Jeebus. What would that even be like?

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