it feeling like his throat was being ripped to shreds, he settled for tipping his head towards the bunkhouse. It was a little further away than Chance’s house, but Bo had just realised something. He didn’t feel nearly as scared standing there with Max. And after all, Max was the only one who’d thought about him, really thought about him just now. The other three MILES TO GO
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were still in there little huddle. There was also the fact that Bo didn’t want to intrude on Chance and Rory any more than he already was.
Max looked past him. “Y’all okay with Bo making his own decision?”
The other two men inclined their heads, and while they didn’t look happy, they didn’t object when Max led Bo to the bunkhouse. The woman—Annabelle, he assumed—started walking towards him and Max.
“We should probably put Bo in the middle bedroom, the one with the pair of twin
beds,” Annabelle said as she stepped up to Bo’s other side. “We could take turns sleeping in there, or I can do it.” She paused as they helped him up the steps. “Or maybe Bo would be more comfortable if you stayed with him.”
Bo felt Max tense beside him. Was it fear, or something else that made him do that? Bo glanced at the man and saw the blush that had darkened his cheeks. Max didn’t look angry, or scared. Maybe it was the pain meds that Bo had taken, but he thought Max would look just like he did now if he were a little turned on. Of course, he’d probably never get to know what Max in the midst of arousal looked like. The man hadn’t responded to any of Bo’s flirting, not the first time they’d met and not when they’d had dinner at Cowboy’s. That just sucked. Bo had taken an instant liking to Max when they’d met, but he’d assumed the man was straight. If he wasn’t, he sure didn’t seem interested in Bo.
“I’ll do it,” Max said in a rough voice as he looked at Bo. “If that’s what you want.”
What Bo wanted was to feel safe again, to not have ever been exposed to the hellish reality that someone could and would hurt him just because of who and what he was. What he wanted was to go back in time and stop himself from going to that club in San Antonio a few nights ago, to not have been so desperate to feel another man’s touch that he’d nearly been killed for it. What he wanted was to know he wasn’t damaged, but he was, and all because he’d been desperate and stupid and looking for a man who’d want him since the one he wanted wasn’t interested.
“Bo? You want a roommate?”
Did he? Bo thought about how scared he was now when he woke up at night, how hard it was for him to even fall asleep. Did he want anyone else around to witness it if he woke up crying or panicking, trying to escape the assault that never seemed to leave his head? He looked at Max, saw the promise in his eyes. Max wouldn’t judge him a coward if he woke up sobbing, or if he was too afraid to sleep.
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“You,” Bo whispered, the word scraping painfully over his raw and damaged throat.
“I’ll go make the beds.” Annabelle scurried inside. Bo barely noticed. He was so tired, and he hurt so fucking bad.
“I’ll stay with you until you’re ready for me not to,” Max said softly.
Bo nodded as his heart did a funny flopping thing in his chest. Maybe he’d had too many pain pills. Or maybe it was just that he thought he might very well never be ready for Max not to be there.
The dim light cast by the lamp on the nightstand softened the bruises marring Bo’s face.
It didn’t matter, though—Max could vividly picture each injury the man had. The damage was more extensive than what Max had thought. When he and Rory had undressed Bo, Max had wanted to weep. Bo’s slight body was covered in dark bruises and painful looking welts.
What had been done to him was inhumane, and the images of that battered body were what was keeping Max from being able to
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were still in there little huddle. There was also the fact that Bo didn’t want to intrude on Chance and Rory any more than he already was.
Max looked past him. “Y’all okay with Bo making his own decision?”
The other two men inclined their heads, and while they didn’t look happy, they didn’t object when Max led Bo to the bunkhouse. The woman—Annabelle, he assumed—started walking towards him and Max.
“We should probably put Bo in the middle bedroom, the one with the pair of twin
beds,” Annabelle said as she stepped up to Bo’s other side. “We could take turns sleeping in there, or I can do it.” She paused as they helped him up the steps. “Or maybe Bo would be more comfortable if you stayed with him.”
Bo felt Max tense beside him. Was it fear, or something else that made him do that? Bo glanced at the man and saw the blush that had darkened his cheeks. Max didn’t look angry, or scared. Maybe it was the pain meds that Bo had taken, but he thought Max would look just like he did now if he were a little turned on. Of course, he’d probably never get to know what Max in the midst of arousal looked like. The man hadn’t responded to any of Bo’s flirting, not the first time they’d met and not when they’d had dinner at Cowboy’s. That just sucked. Bo had taken an instant liking to Max when they’d met, but he’d assumed the man was straight. If he wasn’t, he sure didn’t seem interested in Bo.
“I’ll do it,” Max said in a rough voice as he looked at Bo. “If that’s what you want.”
What Bo wanted was to feel safe again, to not have ever been exposed to the hellish reality that someone could and would hurt him just because of who and what he was. What he wanted was to go back in time and stop himself from going to that club in San Antonio a few nights ago, to not have been so desperate to feel another man’s touch that he’d nearly been killed for it. What he wanted was to know he wasn’t damaged, but he was, and all because he’d been desperate and stupid and looking for a man who’d want him since the one he wanted wasn’t interested.
“Bo? You want a roommate?”
Did he? Bo thought about how scared he was now when he woke up at night, how hard it was for him to even fall asleep. Did he want anyone else around to witness it if he woke up crying or panicking, trying to escape the assault that never seemed to leave his head? He looked at Max, saw the promise in his eyes. Max wouldn’t judge him a coward if he woke up sobbing, or if he was too afraid to sleep.
MILES TO GO
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“You,” Bo whispered, the word scraping painfully over his raw and damaged throat.
“I’ll go make the beds.” Annabelle scurried inside. Bo barely noticed. He was so tired, and he hurt so fucking bad.
“I’ll stay with you until you’re ready for me not to,” Max said softly.
Bo nodded as his heart did a funny flopping thing in his chest. Maybe he’d had too many pain pills. Or maybe it was just that he thought he might very well never be ready for Max not to be there.
The dim light cast by the lamp on the nightstand softened the bruises marring Bo’s face.
It didn’t matter, though—Max could vividly picture each injury the man had. The damage was more extensive than what Max had thought. When he and Rory had undressed Bo, Max had wanted to weep. Bo’s slight body was covered in dark bruises and painful looking welts.
What had been done to him was inhumane, and the images of that battered body were what was keeping Max from being able to
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