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 anyone inside him—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 the bag, 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.

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 him until 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.

“I will,” Skylar lied.

He turned away and made himself walk slowly towards the front door.

As soon as he was in the hallway, Skylar ran for the elevator. He jabbed at the button, waiting impatiently for the car to arrive. The ride down felt both too fast and too slow. Once the car came to a stop, the doors barely opened before Skylar started to bolt out, only to realize that people might see him. People who knew Uncle Zeke. He forced himself to slow down.

Out on the sidewalk, Skylar oriented himself, shading his eyes from the afternoon sun. His bank had a branch not too far away. He could go there first, withdraw his money, then get a taxi.

And hope he had enough for all of it.

Before he could forget again, Skylar turned off his phone and stuffed it into his pocket, muttering a prayer that Charlie wasn't watching the tracking app at that moment. Then he forced himself to a sedate walk as he headed for the bank.

Once he had his money tucked into his wallet and stuffed deep inside his pocket, he went back outside, flagged down a taxi, and gave the address for the tattoo shop.

He eyed the meter the whole way, knowing he'd have to spend at least the same amount to get back to Uncle Zeke's apartment. Skylar paid the driver, mentally calculating how much he'd have left once this day was over. He set aside enough money for the return trip, then counted what was left. He hoped it would be enough.

Skylar let himself into the tattoo parlor. It was quiet inside. Almost empty. Most of the artists had already gone home for the holiday, leaving just the receptionist and the artist with whom he'd been working for the past several years.

“You made it!” she greeted him. “Come on back.”

Skylar followed her and sat down on the chair.

“So,” she began with a beaming smile. “What are we doing today?”

Skylar took off the hoodie and rolled up his sleeve. “I want to finish it.”

“How exciting! What did you have in mind?”

Skylar paused, realizing he wasn't sure. A part of him wanted to have Ward and Charlie put there, but he'd never get away with that. Uncle Zeke would question it. As would any clients he took on in the future.

Somehow, he'd have to put a representation of them instead. Something personal.

“Here.” The artist spun around on her stool, grabbed a design book, and held it out. “Maybe these will give you some ideas.”

Skylar quickly flicked through the pages, trying to find anything that would spark inspiration. He saw ornate crosses and flowers and skulls. There were mandalas and geometric designs and all sorts of fancy lettering.

Nothing was close to what he wanted.

Then he turned a page and saw animals. Butterflies. Birds. A phoenix rising from flames. Snakes and lions. Deer and cats.

And a wolf.

Skylar gasped. That was it! A wolf for Ward, and a mouse for Charlie. Nobody would know what they meant except for him, but they would be as good as having the men's names tattooed on his skin.

He scanned the images again. “A wolf,” he muttered to himself, trying to find one that was just right. “Not angry or threatening, but protective. And a mouse. A happy mouse. I want both inside the heart.”

The woman gave him a scrutinizing look, then turned away again and grabbed a sketch pad. Her pencil flew across the page, the soft hiss making Skylar's heart beat faster.

When she turned the sketchpad around, Skylar gasped.

It was perfect. Within the heart, there was a wolf's head, the eyes staring straight forward, almost like it could see into one's soul. Beside it was the head of a mouse. It was cute and sweet and almost appeared to be smiling.

“Yes,” Skylar choked out, feeling tears begin to sting his eyes. “It's perfect.” He paused, swallowing hard. “How much?”

The artist eyed the design, then rattled off an amount.

Skylar felt dizzy. He had enough.

A grin took over his face. “Let's do it.”

The woman grinned at him and got to work.

When it was finished, Skylar couldn't stop staring at it in the mirror.

It really was perfect.

Now, even if only like this, Ward and Charlie would be with him forever.