Not necessarily abadstrange, though; I actually really liked the feel of his hands running over me, and his lips brushing across my back. It was nice. Not arousing, just really, really nice.
I check the hall one more time and am just shooing Rocket back inside when my phone buzzes on the kitchen table. I practically fly across the room to get to it, assuming it’s going to be Skyler.
Deacon Stapleton:Get here. Now
Deacon Stapleton:It’s Skyler
The second I see the text, I’m heading out the door, barely stopping to grab my coat and stuff my feet into the boots I’d fortunately left by the door. Deacon’s not one for dramatics, so if he’s telling me to come straight away I’m not going to waste any time.
“What thefuckhappened?” I demand, the second I enter the apartment and catch sight of Deacon’s stricken face, Drew’s frown, and Skyler curled up in the fetal position, his eyes red and puffy.
“Dude, you could have changed out of your PJs,” Drew tells me, offering the slight quirk of one brow.
“Deacon told me to get here, so I got here,” I grind out. “What the fuck is going on?”
Before Deacon or Drew can answer me, Skyler lifts his head and gazes at me. “Jackson?”
I just stand there for a moment, completely stunned. Every one of his carefully crafted layers of defensive armor has been ripped away, leaving him flayed open and bleeding for everyone to witness. I haven’t seen him appear this vulnerable since we were kids.
It only takes me a second to snap out of my stupor, and I rush to join Skyler on the sofa, slinging my arm around him and pulling him against me.
He clings to my coat and buries his face in my neck, sobbing freely as I comfort him as best as I can. I have no idea what’s going on, but I know pushing him to talk won’t help matters any. So I hold him against me, rubbing my hand over his back and murmuring reassurances while trying to pretend our two best friends aren’t hovering awkwardly somewhere nearby.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs once the sobbing has eased off. “I ruined everything.”
“You could never ruin anything,” I assure him. “Whatever it is, I know it’s not your fault.”
“It is,” he insists. “It is my fault. Everything’s a mess now. I don’t know how the world’s going to work now. Nothing will ever make sense. It’ll be like it was before…”
My brow creases in utter confusion. And concern. Despite his love of hyperbole, Skyler’s not really a doom and gloom kind of person. He can be cynical, but he’s also logical. Catastrophizing like this isn’t really in his nature.
“Sky, can you look at me for a second?”
With obvious reluctance, he lifts his head and fixes morose, red-rimmed eyes on me.
I lift a hand and gently thread my fingers through his hair, glad when I see some of his distress start to ease and his features relax. “Talk to me. Help me understand what’s going on.”
He doesn’t respond right away, but I’m not going to push. I just keep stroking his hair as I wait for him to find the words.
After a minute or two, I realize he’s probably not going to answer me. He’s so distracted by the petting I doubt he even remembers I asked a question. I consider stopping and posing my question to a more coherent Skyler, but I just can’t bring myself to do anything that’s going to make this calm, peaceful expression he’s wearing disappear.
“Stop,” Skyler chokes out, the calm on his features giving way to sudden distress.
Completely baffled by the rapid change, I act on instinct and continue stroking his hair. He loves when I stroke his hair. It always relaxes him. It’ll help.
“Please, stop,” he pleads in a near whisper.
“Jackson, stop,” Deacon orders, his voice cracking out like a whip, snatching my hand away from Skyler.
I sit there for a moment, completely dumbfounded as I stare at my hand. “What—?”
Before I can get a question out, Skyler shifts out of my embrace and moves down the sofa, grabbing a stuffed alligator of all things and clutching it to his chest.
“I don’t understand,” I murmur. “What’s going on? What just happened?”
Deacon and Drew exchange a look that tells me they’re well aware of the situation, but they don’t offer any insight. That’s okay; I don’t want to hear it from them.
I turn my gaze to Skyler, the sight of him huddled up tight, clutching that stuffy like his life depends on it is so reminiscent of the lonely little boy I first met all those years ago, it makes my heart crack open.
