I lower my head and start laying kisses over his back—all across his ink. He seems to enjoy this as well, and lets me ease him onto his front as my lips move farther south.
By the time I get to the bottom of that tattoo, it’s taking all my self-control not to start grinding into the mattress. But then a thought hits me and I feel like I’ve been doused in cold water—what the fuck am I doing? What the hell’s the plan now? Am I going to tug down those PJs and lick him out? Put my cock in him?What the fuck is wrong with you Skyler? He’s not even turned on by any of this!
I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train as that reality slams home. Jackson might have found this pleasurable, because he’s Jackson and it’s just how he is—I’m pretty sure he was the only kid who ever actuallylikedhaving sunblock put on him—but he wasn’t into it the same way I was, and that thought is utterly mortifying.
“I’m, um…going to go to the bathroom,” I mutter, climbing off the bed and quickly striding for the door.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. Go to sleep. I think that’s enough of…that.”
Jackson lets out a soft chuckle and rolls back onto his side. “Night, Sky.”
I watch him for a moment after his eyes close, a sob catching in my throat as my heart starts to crack. I already knew I loved him with every breath in my body, but the attraction? I genuinely thought I was safe there.
Now I feel like I’m witnessing a rare, precious gem get ground down into something completely unrecognizable and far less amazing.
Everything’s going to be different now. We’ll still besomething, but we won’t beus.We can’t be.
ChapterThirteen
Skyler
“Skyler?”Deacon asks when he opens the door of his apartment to my persistent knocking. He brings a hand up to wipe over bleary eyes. “It’s, like, two in the morning—what the fuck are—”
“Why did you do this to me?” I demand in a desperate whine. “Everything was perfect. Why did you ruin it for me?”
Deacon drops his hand and takes a moment to scrutinize me, his mouth falling open as surprise slowly registers on his face “Jesus, fuck, Skyler. Are you crying?”
I know he’s only posed the observation in the form of a question because he’s so stunned. There’s no way he’s missed the tears streaking down my cheeks, or the puffy eyes, or the snotty nose.
I swipe at my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie—Jackson’s hoodie—which is already completely gross from the amount of times I’ve done that on my way over here.
“Why did you do this to me?” I sob. “Why, Deacon?”
He just stares at me, clearly stunned. “I…I don’t know what’s going on. Sky, I’m sorry if I’ve done something. I definitely didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Between all the fear and dread and emotional turmoil, I’m suddenly finding it difficult to stay steady on my feet. The second Deacon utters the word “sorry,” I slump forward and throw my arms around him, burying my head against his shoulder and sobbing uncontrollably.
“Fuck, Skyler.” Alarm is clear in his voice as he gently pats my back. “What the hell’s going on? It’s like you’re fucking grieving or something.”
Because I am, I realize. For everything Jackson and I have shared. For the lifetime we were supposed to spend together. I know he’ll say it doesn’t change anything, but it will. It already has.
“Jackson,” I murmur.
“What?What about Jackson?” Deacon demands. “Is he hurt? Did something happen?”
“He’s at home. He’s asleep.”
“Jesus Christ, Skyler. You scared the shit out of me,” he grumbles. “Come on, let’s get inside.”
He takes a few steps back and I let him lead me inside the familiar apartment and over to the couch.
“Here, why don’t you take a seat, buddy,” he says gently, guiding me down onto the sofa. “You want some water?”
I shake my head no and shuffle down the sofa a bit, lifting my legs up so I can curl around on my side, sniffling into the sleeve of Jackson’s hoodie.
“Well, I’m at least going to get you a tissue,” Deacon mutters. “That hoodie is gross.”
