Page 97 of His Boys to Protect

Shit. Was Charlie regretting this? What if he couldn't be comfortable here? He needed certain things for his routine, which was already thrown off as it was.

Skylar held his bag tighter as he stood there and trembled. “Ward–”

The big man strode right up to him and cupped his face with both hands. “Right here, kitten. Everything's gonna be fine.”

“But–” he tried again, glancing at Charlie.

“Sky,” Ward said, his tone gentle but full of warning. “Daddy's gonna take care of everything, okay? I need you to be agood boy for me and listen.” He pointed at the bathroom. “I want you to go in there and take a long, hot shower. Or a bath, if you prefer. Whatever's gonna help you relax. Then put on something comfortable. Maybe some pajamas, okay? While you're doing that, I'm gonna walk Charlie around the apartment and figure out what he needs.”

“But you might have to move the bed,” Skylar pointed out. “And change the sheets. And he's a picky eater, remember? What if you don't have any food that he'll eat? And he needs his routine, so this time of year, he'll be up at five-thirty, regardless of what we–”

“Sky,” Ward murmured. “I'll handle it. Okay? I can move the bed. And we can make a run to the store for food. Whatever it takes, sweetheart. It's gonna be fine.”

Skylar opened his mouth to say something else, but there was so much chaos in his head, he couldn't make the words come out. There were so many things he had to do! He had to get to the bank. And the pharmacy. And pay his bills. He needed to call his doctor. And make sure Charlie was settled.

Ward bent down, holding his gaze. “Stop. I see you overthinking. Theonlything you need to do right now is go take a shower. Okay? That's it. Can you be good for Daddy and go do that?”

Beside him, Charlie nodded emphatically, his chin jerking up and down. “Hhnn.”

Skylar relented. “Okay,” he whispered.

“That's my good boy,” Ward murmured. He hooked an arm around Skylar's waist and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then released him and nodded at the bathroom. “Go on.”

Skylar shuffled off to the bathroom, still clutching his bag in his arms, and closed the door. He stood there for a moment, listening to the murmur of Ward's voice as the man spoke toCharlie. Skylar couldn't make out the words, especially once his emotions got the better of him.

He had to hold his breath to stifle a sob.

They would probably come check on him if he didn't start the water up soon, so Skylar forced himself to go through the motions. The bathroom door didn't have a lock on it, so Skylar wedged his bag in front of it instead. Not that it would stop Ward. Hell, it wouldn't even stop Charlie. But that little extra barrier between himself and the outside world seemed to help. It was just enough for him to get undressed, step away, and reach into the shower.

He turned on the water, barely waited for it to heat up, then stepped inside and pulled the curtain shut.

Skylar fell to his knees, covering his face with both hands, his body wracked with sobs.

He completely lost track of time. It took everything he had just to keep quiet so Ward and Charlie wouldn't hear him crying. Then he realized they were sure to see it all over his face.Damn it. Skylar forced himself to his feet and stuck his head under the spray. He couldn't stop a groan of pleasure from escaping him as the heat of the water finally registered.

When was the last time he'd taken a proper, hot shower? Skylar shook his head. He couldn't remember. Maybe a couple weeks back, when they'd come down for Wine Festival, but even those showers had been rushed. Skylar hadn't wanted to abuse the hot water at Beau and Dakota's house with so many other people staying there. At his own apartment, he usually only turned the water lukewarm, got himself wet, shut the water off, soaped up, and turned on the water again to rinse off as quickly as possible. Anything to keep his bills down.

Simply standing there under hot water while he cried? That was a luxury he could never afford. And he shouldn't be allowinghimself to do so now. Not when it was Ward's water bill on the line.

Skylar quickly scrubbed himself all over, rinsed off, and forced himself to get out. He grabbed a clean towel and dried off, shivering despite the warmth of the room. Once he had the towel hung up to dry, Skylar dug into his bag.

What had Ward said? To put on something comfortable. Skylar pushed his clothes aside, putting his hands on the little bags of cash stuffed into the bottom of the bag, reassuring himself that they were still there, then pulled out some threadbare flannel pants—the only pajamas he owned—and an old, worn t-shirt. Skylar dragged on a pair of clean underwear first, then got dressed. As he stuffed his dirty clothes into a side pocket of his bag, Skylar left out Charlie's old hoodie. He pulled that on over the t-shirt, needing the extra layer. The extra comfort.

He picked up his bag and hugged it to his chest with one arm. With his free hand, he grabbed the doorknob, then paused there. Skylar closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bracing himself as he opened the door.

Across from him, Skylar saw the bedroom had been rearranged. The only furniture was the king-sized bed and a nightstand, and both had been moved. The bed now pointed east.

It looked all wrong. With the dimensions of the room, the bed's original position had made more sense. Now, with it turned ninety degrees from where it had been, there was barely enough space to get around the foot of it to reach the other side. Skylar cringed. What if Ward hated that?

Skylar heard Ward's voice. He followed the sound into the kitchen. There, he found Ward moving the coffee machine to a new spot, plugging it back in and reprogramming the clock.

Shit. “Ward–”

Ward looked up. “Hey, baby.” He paused, studying Skylar's face, then glanced at the bag still clutched in Skylar's arms. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” Skylar admitted. He gestured at the counter. “You didn't have to–”

“Sky,” Ward said, bringing out that gently commanding tone of his. “It's fine.” He reached over to Charlie, who stood beside him, supervising, and ran a hand through the boy's hair. “Charlie said it belongs here, so that's where it'll go.”

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