Page 19 of Lost Boy

  Scared.

  Alone.

  Feeling hopeless.

  “So ya see… I couldn’t save Luke. I couldn’t save my momma. I couldn’t even save Creed. So I lost ‘em all.”

  I stood there in shock, listening to the silence for a second. My mind was reeling, trying to grab onto something, anything.

  That could help him.

  It wasn’t until he breathed out, “Baby, please say somethin’. I need ya to say somethin’. Please…”

  My body moved on its own accord, and my mind didn’t have time to doubt it. I grabbed the back of his neck and brought my lips up to his and kissed him. I couldn’t help myself, I had to feel his lips on mine. I had to show him with actions, not words, prove to him he wasn’t alone. That I was there for him. That nothing had changed between us, even though I knew about his worst nightmares.

  His father.

  His mother.

  Luke.

  The fighting.

  The truth to his life.

  My chest rose and fell when I pulled away, staring into his dark and dilated, mesmerizing but painful, stare. Burning with so much raw emotion that it was almost hard to breathe. Captivating every last part of me.

  I didn’t move an inch.

  Not for one second.

  I gazed profoundly into his eyes and exposed a huge part of me, whispering, “Thank you for saving my life.”

  Meaning it in more ways…

  Than him just saving me at the river, over four years ago.

  TWENTY-THREE

  NOAH

  It had been eight months since I shared my last truth with Skyler, and she had yet to share at least one fucking thing with me about her life. Not so much as a memory, or an invite into her house, or even about her upcoming work schedule. After all these years, and everything I’d openly shared with her, she wouldn’t allow me into any aspect of her life. Except spending time with her.

  And a man could only take so much.

  She was still trying to keep both her lives separate. Like she was two different people, one for me and another one for the cameras. It was blatantly obvious to me now, or maybe it always had been, and I was just too blinded by my love for her to see it. She was spending more days in L.A. and less in Southport.

  Away from me.

  Avoiding me.

  At this point, who the fuck knew, because I sure as shit didn’t.

  I knew her career was moving at full speed since her role as Roxie Hart. I saw her face everywhere, on magazines, online, on television with the latest celebrity news. Her picture was even on the side of a bus I rode past a few weeks ago. But the one that really fucking pissed me off was the billboard of her in the city. Where she was dressed in a revealing black bra that made her tits pop-out at the seams with matching panties that she was slightly pulling down with her thumbs. Sexually posing for some company, Victoria’s Secret, with her lips pursed and her hair tussled like she’d just been fucked.

  Every time I drove past it for one thing or another, mostly doing runs for the club, I resisted the urge to graffiti the fuck out of it. Until I finally decided on another route so I would avoid seeing it completely. Which didn’t fucking help, I still knew it was there for all the world to see, when I had yet to fucking see her like that. Knowing dickwads were jerking off to her, and I was no better because I was fucking my fist to the memory of her beneath me…

  Moaning.

  Panting.

  Screaming my name to make her come.

  Regardless, there was no defining our relationship, considering I called her my girl and she called me her best friend.

  Every time my mind went there, every time I allowed the unanswered questions to fester inside of me, just waiting to blow the fuck up and take over, my mind couldn’t help but remember the words she’d said to me from all those years ago. As if she was saying them to me right then and there…

  “I need you to promise me something, okay? Please, please don’t fall in love with me.”

  They carved into my skin, slicing into my core. Leaving behind one hell of a fucking scar each time. Marking my soul, my goddamn patience, my fucking love for her. Whether I desired it or not.

  Because at the end of the day, I wanted to love her, despite the fact she didn’t want me to.

  Nothing made sense, and as more time went on, it became crystal fucking clear it never would. Unless I took drastic matters into my own hands. But there was the catch…

  She wasn’t home enough for me to jeopardize the time we did spend together, and I think that was part of the reason she started working so damn much. She knew it because she knew me.

  It was that plain and simple.

  Only fueling my restlessness when it came to her.

  I began fighting more for my old man and on the side, purely for selfish fucking reasons. My mind and body feening for the control beating someone’s ass always provided for me. Seeing as though my refuge from my fucked-up life was off living her best one without me. Making me feel like she was leaving me behind, to eventually be forgotten like the rest of my fucking family.

  I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to make a home with her, and as the weeks went on with the boat restoration, for the life I wanted with her, it started seeming further and further away.

  Becoming just a fantasy from my reality.

  A dream from my nightmares.

  A refuge I sought out in her absence.

  I couldn’t go on with this uncertainty of what the future held for us. There was already so much of that in my life, and I needed Skyler to be my fucking anchor from the storm, residing inside of me. Yearning for her to be the stability of the home I never had and the family I always wanted. I even started sleeping on the boat just to feel close to her, instead of at the clubhouse or at the house with Ma.

  It wasn’t like Ma would notice I was gone. She started attending AA a few times a week a couple months ago. Sometimes she’d even spend the entire day there. Talking to other people about her problems seemed to help her through the jonesing of wanting and needing a drink. Though that didn’t stop me from checking on her often, making sure she was still sober, or at least trying to stay sober. She’d relapse here and there, but she kept putting an effort in nonetheless.

  I think it was a combination of her last seizure where she about flatlined and Aiden’s persistence on her getting help. It finally made her see some sort of fucking light. Except, it was still hard for me to have faith in her sobriety, which only aided the lost boy inside of me.

  Then there was Pops, who didn’t give a flying fuck where I slept as long as I was there when he needed me. Which was more often than not. There was so much blood on my hands, no amount of holy water could cleanse my soul.

  I was fucking damned.

  Exactly how he always wanted me to be.

  At times, it felt like Skyler was my only salvation, but even she might not be able to set me free.

  I kicked out the stand on my Harley, shoving away my plaguing thoughts. I hadn’t seen Skyler in about three weeks, and I missed the ever-loving shit out of her. I knew she flew back to Southport sometime last night, because she texted me when she was lying in her bed, Home sweet home.

  I spent most of the night chain-smoking on the bow of the boat, chugging down a bottle of Jack. Numbing my mind and my heart. Allowing the darkness to take over, it was just easier that way. Feeling more lost than ever.

  My sunshine was gone until she wasn’t. I knocked on her door, expecting her to answer this early in the morning. Instantly taken back when an older man with her eyes opened the door. Locking up like a goddamn pussy as I stood in front of the man, I assumed was her father, for the first time ever. Grateful as fuck I wasn’t wearing my cut.

  Hastily shaking it off, I extended out my hand. “Good mornin’, I’m Noah.” Silently hoping I hadn’t already fucked this up.

  “Not interested,” he snapped, trying to slam the door in my face.

  But I was quick on my feet and wedg

ed my combat boot against the doorframe, adding, “Imma friend of Skyler’s.”

  “Oh.” He jerked back, opening the door again. “I’m sorry about that. I thought you were a solicitor.” He extended out his hand, making me feel a little more at ease. “I’m Daniel Morgan, Skyler’s dad.”

  I nodded, shaking it. I thought Skyler’s last name was Bell?

  “She’s not home right now. She’s at a shoot over at the country club till late tonight. I’ll tell her you stopped by, though. Noah, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.” I waited for some sort of recognition in his expression from hearing my name. Like a lightbulb going off, knowing who I was and what I meant to his daughter. When it never came, I gave him one last curt nod. “Sorry to bother ya.” Turned back around and started walking toward my bike. Not only was I disappointed she wasn’t home, but her father had no idea who I was. She hadn’t even mentioned me in passing.

  Jesus Christ, Skyler… not even to your old man?

  “Do you know her from work? You an actor too?” he hollered from the porch, bringing my attention back to him.

  I grinned, wanting him to get a feel for who I was. “Naw. Why? I look like I gotta stick up my ass?”

  He busted out laughing, throwing his head back. “Good.” He smiled, looking me over. “She needs real people in her life. And those L.A. people are the furthest thing from that. I swear, they’re a different breed out there. No substance. No loyalty either.”

  Her father shared more with me in the last minute than Skyler had in almost five years.

  “I’m glad Skyler has you. She needs friends. I worry about her, you know?”

  “Yeah, I feel ya. I been worryin’ ’bout her since the first time I saw her swimmin’ at Cape Fear River—”

  “What?” he harshly blurted, narrowing his eyes at me. “Skyler was swimming at Cape Fear? When?”

  “A few years back, I think we were eleven almost twelve.”

  “You must be mistaken.”

  “Nah, I was there. It was definitely that river.”

  “But that was only the first time, right? That’s what you just said? That means there’s been more? How many more times then?” He couldn’t get his questions out fast enough. “How many times have you seen my daughter swimming in there since then?”

  By the sharp tone in his voice and the drastic change in his demeanor, I knew Skyler hadn’t breathed a word about what happened the last time I saw her in that river. And before I had the chance to reply, his phone rang. Breaking the sudden tension between us.

  Never taking his eyes off mine, he answered, “Hey.”

  I used it as my excuse to leave, signaling to him that I was taking off.

  “Give me a second,” he said into his phone and then covered it with his hand. “Noah, I’ll just be a minute. I want to know—”

  “Actually, I have somewhere I gotta be. I’m sorry, maybe another time.”

  He wearily nodded, making me feel like a piece of shit for unintentionally sharing something that made him so upset.

  But why?

  I jumped on my bike and took off, avoiding the shit out of that situation. Knowing Skyler was going to have to deal with her old man instead didn’t make me feel any less confused or concerned for what the hell just happened. I spent the entire ride back to Ma’s house trying to force away the memory of the day I saved her life, but it held onto me. Exactly the way my love for her did.

  Replaying over and over in my mind.

  “I’m gonna take you home on two conditions,” I stated.

  “Is that so?” she countered, cocking her head to the side.

  “Damn straight,” I affirmed, cocking my head to the side too. “You gotta promise me you’ll get checked out by your doctor, your parents, I don’t give a fuck, but by someone who can make sure you’re really okay.”

  “I’ll tell my dad. What’s the next condition?”

  After all these years of wanting to know something about her, I thought when I finally did, it would make everything truthful between us.

  I just never imagined…

  It would be a lie.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  SKYLER

  “Keith, I already told you I still don’t know,” I reminded him for what felt like the hundredth time today.

  I’d flown in late last night, and as soon as I got home, I took a warm shower and went straight to bed. Snapping a quick photo of myself for Noah first, hoping he’d reply to my text with at least a goodnight. I waited for as long as I could, but my eyes struggled to stay open.

  The next thing I knew, my alarm was going off. Indicating it was five a.m. and I had to get my ass out of bed for my photoshoot. I must have passed out hard, though I still woke up as if I hadn’t slept at all. Disappointed to find no reply from Noah.

  It was evident the closer our relationship became, the further our friendship drifted apart. If that made any sense at all.

  I’d been working nonstop. Between the grueling hours of prepping for my movie starting production in the next two months, to flying overseas to promote my new perfume launching in the fall, to photoshoots for Calvin Klein because I was the new face for their spring campaign. There wasn’t much free time left for myself, not to mention all the back and forth from L.A. to Southport, back to L.A. and so on, and so on. It was taxing to say the least.

  As much as I didn’t want to admit it to Keith, that in itself was exhausting.

  “Sky, what is keeping you in Southport?”

  And now, I’m having to deal with him in my trailer, on my lunch hour. Instead of taking a much-needed break from yet another shoot that would be going into the late hours of the evening.

  “Oh, I don’t know… maybe my dad,” I sarcastically stated the truth, knowing he wasn’t the main reason I kept flying home. I brushed past him, walking over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water and some Tylenol. My head was already pounding from this exchange I didn’t want to have to begin with.

  Keith wouldn’t drop this conversation. For the last three months, he’d been adamantly persistent on me permanently moving out to L.A. Particularly in the last month. It seemed like the closer the days got to my eighteenth birthday, the harder he kept hounding me to move. Especially now that my career was on fire and I’d been spending most of my time there anyway. From his point of view, it did make sense for me to go.

  If Noah and I had never met…

  If our lives had never crossed paths…

  If he didn’t mean so damn much to me…

  I probably would have moved years ago.

  My whole life seemed to be based off of ifs. If I got that role, if I shot that cover, if I did that interview, if I wore this or that, if I go here or there, if I… if I… if I…

  There was an endless number of ifs with no certainties attached to them whatsoever. No one understood what it was like to be me.

  Not my father.

  Not Keith.

  Not even Noah.

  Sometimes, it felt as if I didn’t even know what it was like to be me. I’d been so many different people for so long, and I wasn’t referring to all the roles I’d played over the years.

  “Oh, don’t give me that shit! Your dad is never around. You see him here as much as you see him when you’re in L.A. Nice try, Skyler.”

  It was true. He was right.

  But what if I moved and stopped seeing him entirely?

  Would it even matter to him?

  Did I even matter to him anymore?

  What if I did? Or worse… What if I didn’t?

  “Ugh! What does it matter? I’m doing fine commuting back and forth,” I lied, expecting him to call me out on it.

  Since in reality, my reality, Keith was more of a father to me than my own. And I wish I could tell you it hadn’t always been that way, but then… I’d just be lying again.

  “Oh, come on, give me more credit than that, Sky. Look at you.” He gestured to me as I stood back in front of him. “You’re exhausted. Y

ou think I don’t notice these things? Like the amount of time the makeup artists have been spending trying to cover your dark circles and your hollow cheekbones. Or what about how the wardrobe department for your next movie keeps having your clothes taken in because you’re losing so much weight. Those reasons alone should tell you something.”

  “That’s not from me flying to and from L.A, Keith. But if you’re so concerned about my eating habits and weight, how about you leave so I can eat lunch? Or better yet, call Hollywood Reporter since last week they said I was looking a little rounder.”

  “They photoshopped those pictures to sell their bullshit lies. Besides, when has it ever bothered you what the tabloids are fabricating this week?”

  “It doesn’t bother me now. I’m just stating facts. Because if it’s printed online or in a magazine, then it must be true, right?”

  I hated that we were arguing. Seeing as though, I couldn’t just tell him the truth about who Noah was and what he meant to me. He wouldn’t understand, I barely understood. He’d tell me Noah wasn’t right for me, he’d go digging into his life, and there was no way the press wouldn’t pick him apart and do the same. Everyone would find out about his family, all the illegal shit he was involved in, including the cops. The fighting, the killings, and God knows what else. His whole life would be turned upside down, for a life he knew nothing about. A life he didn’t choose, never realizing it came hand-in-hand with me.

  I couldn’t do that to him.

  I wouldn’t.

  He was mine and mine alone. Whether he knew it or not.

  Keith sighed, getting frustrated with me. “Alright, I’ll play it your way. I’ll just move onto the next reasons on why you need to move to L.A.”

  “Oh goodie,” I mocked, smiling. “I can’t wait.”

  “Skyler,” he coaxed in that fatherly tone I hated as well. “I’ve kept my mouth shut for as long as I needed to, but soon you’re going to be an adult and you need to start making wise choices for your future. You’re going to be eighteen in a few months, it’s time you start using your money wisely like for investments. The real estate market in L.A. is a great place for you to start. You could buy a house, make it your own home. Where your dad can have his own room, and he can visit you as much as he wants. There’s nothing here for you.”