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A breeze blows through, rattling the screen door, lifting the curtains surrounding the windows. A piece of paper flutters off the table, landing somewhere on the floor.
I blink over at the patio, realizing suddenly how very little time we spent out there. So much we didn’t get a chance to do. So much we didn’t get to savor.
Something tells me it would’ve never been enough.
A door creaking open draws my attention to the other side of the room.
Skyler steps out of the bathroom, running his hands through his messy dark hair. He’s dressed now. Why he chose to grab his clothes and do it in the privacy of the bathroom, I have no idea. And I didn’t ask. He didn’t shower, but I did hear the faucet running.
Guilt spikes in my chest when I remember the way he pried himself off me, pushing to a shaky stand, and turned away, my cum dribbling down his thighs.
He wouldn’t let me clean him—I tried. Tried to get him to stay in bed so I could at least do that much for him after making such a fucking mess of him. It’ll be a miracle if he wakes up tomorrow without beard rash and scratches and hickeys all over his body.
Hell, even my own body aches in spots where his teeth and nails burrowed deep, and yet, if anything, I pray I wake up just as marked up as him. Just as broken and beat down as I feel right now.
Going home to Abby shouldn’t feel like a death sentence, but it’s kind of hard to feel like it’s anything but right now when I feel so fucking hollow inside.
Don’t get me wrong—I want to see my daughter. Hell, if it weren’t for Skyler I’d be climbing the walls right now with impatience.
I just…
I don’t know how to say goodbye to him. I don’t know how to reconcile this empty feeling with my relief.
How the hell did this happen?
“I should go,” Skyler says in a flat tone, his gaze downturned, hands fisted at his sides.
The need to go over there and untangle his fingers and press them to my chest instead is strong, but I refrain. I’ve hurt him enough.
“You can stay,” I say. “Fuck the rules. Sleep with me tonight.”
He’s shaking his head before I can even get the words fully out, and my heart breaks, knowing it’s for the best when he says, “I can’t.”
Throat thick, I nod, even though he can’t see me.
His bare feet pad across the floor toward the door, and before I can stop myself, I’m reaching out, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in a tight, bone-crushing hug.
He tenses, but only for a moment, and then his lanky arms come around me with far more strength than I thought him capable of.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I bury my face in his neck, nearly sobbing at the scent wafting over me, knowing it’ll be the last time I ever get a taste of this—sea salt and soap and Skyler andmine.
It doesn’t have to be…
Ask him for his number…
Make plans…
All these thoughts pop off in my head—desires I’d give anything to make a reality.
But then they’re quickly replaced by rebuttals.
He’s eighteen.
We live a whole half a country away from each other.
He still has to get out from under his parents.
I need to focus on Abby.
