Stars blink above me in the cloudless night sky. Resting my forearms on the truck roof, I stare hopelessly up at the stars. I wish. Oh, I wish. If the stars do grant wishes, then I deserve one the most. Don’t I? Just one wish.
“Levi,” I whisper to the sky. The name is a fervent wish on my lips and in my forever lonely heart.
CHAPTER TWELVE
TREVOR
Only the blood angrily pulsing in the bruises scattered around my body remind me that I’m still alive. Another too-rough client that used me to the brink with my permission. “Stop” so close to falling from my lips but ultimately unable to. Because I deserve every ounce of pain rained down on me. Some sick side of me thinks if I let myself be hurt enough, that’ll make up for all the years I benefited from the money my parents stole.
The pain makes my brain blissfully shut off. No thoughts of anything but the way my body is a vessel to someone else’s pleasure. No pleasure had for myself.
My walk of shame up to the clubhouse is all too familiar. At least this time I have the cover of night to make up for it. I should go back to my own apartment, but I crave the comfort of a friend. Jackson didn’t answer my texts but I’m hopeful he’s there, ready to patch up my wounds with a steady, quiet hand.
I sniffle quietly to avoid being heard and tiptoe toward the living room. My brain is still rattled from receiving the assignment from Davis for Colby, Beau’s cousin. Even the suggestion of it had made me so ill, so dizzy with nausea thatI’d done the only thing I could think to do. I passed a client off to Eli. Passing clients off to each other isn’t weird or abnormal, we all do it quite often. When one of us isn't in the mood for a certain client, a certain act, we pass them off to one that we think is better fitted for it.
Normally Claire is none the wiser.
But after I’d orchestrated the handoff to Eli last week, I dove headfirst into every client that requested rough sex. Every client that could wash my brain of Beau’s gentleness. Of the weight of what being loved by a man like that could do to me.
If I’m running, if I’m faking, then nothing can hurt me.
Carefully stumbling toward the living room, I limp toward the light of the television that hopefully means Jackson is awake, but I’m willing to accept Benji if I absolutely must. Instead, I’m confronted with the sight of Claire sitting on the sectional with a glass of wine in her elegant fingers.
“Oh fuck,” I say out loud, irritated to be caught.
Claire’s eyes flash with fear even in the low blue light of the television. “Why are you limping?”
Easing my way down onto the sectional, I aim my gaze towards the television. An old episode of a dating show is playing, a show I know for a fact she’s seen a million times. So, she’s been sitting here just waiting to catch me. I work my jaw a few times, trying to not clench up and close down.
“It was a rough one,” I admit, voice devoid of emotion.
“Should I ban him?”
“Definitely with Eli or Benji,” I say quickly, urgently needing her to understand my underlying meaning. The client wasn’t mean or malicious, but Eli or Benji couldn’t withstand what I’m able to nor should they.
She blinks slowly in understanding, then leans forward to set her wine down on the coffee table. A tremble in her fingers makes my mouth dry with worry. I did that. I made her worry.
“Claire—”
“I’m taking you off rotation.”
I wince at her words, letting my chin fall to my chest in defeat. Less at the words and more at her tone. Claire has always threatened to put me out of commission but never acted on it. A year ago, I probably would’ve argued with her, been spitting with anger even. But there’s something nice about the choice being taken away from me. If I ever get the courage to return to Beau, I can tell him that I’m done. That I'm a better man than I was the first time around. Maybe then I’ll deserve his love, really earn it.
Claire sighs and unfolds her legs to scoot toward me on the plush sofa. I lean heavily in relief against her when she wraps a tender arm around my neck. Curling her fingers into my hair, she scratches my head, and I sigh softly.
“Listen to me,” Claire whispers against my cheek, “you’ve been hurting yourself for years, you need to stop. Please, stop.”
“Okay,” I murmur helplessly, unable to withstand her tender care.
“You’ve graduated, the world is your oyster. Stop letting what they’ve done control your life. You are an amazing person and deserve happiness.”
I rub at my eyes and my fingers come away wet. Great. I’m crying. “I don’t know how to be happy.”
“I think you know exactly how to be happy. Your happiness starts in Clay Springs.”
She’s right but I don’t want to admit it. Just the thought of Beau brings glorious warmth to my chest. Bright warmth suffuses through me like the sun rising after weeks of night, just by remembering his bashful smile. The smile that I earned, that I put there, simply by being real Trevor, not the ghost of Levi.
“He won’t really want me… if he knows…”
