Filthy Rich Single Daddies (Filthy Rich Harems #2)

23. Theo

Chapter 23

Theo

I watch Skylar pace the room, her chestnut hair swaying with each sharp turn. Her words from the funeral echo in my head—sharp, final. It's just grief, I tell myself. It has to be.

Please let it just be the grief.

"Sky," I start, reaching out to steady her, but she shrugs me off, her hazel eyes flaming with that familiar intensity. My heart lurches at the coldness. This isn't us. Not the Skylar and Theo who once shared whispered secrets under starlit skies.

"Please, don't," she snaps, and it's like a door slamming shut. I drop my hand, feeling the gap between us widen. In desperation, I claw through my memories, searching for a time when the space between us wasn't filled with regret and what-ifs.

We were young, hidden away in my family's lake house. The air was thick with the scent of pine and the promise of first loves. I remember how her laughter sounded like music, how it filled the empty spaces inside me. That night, under a blanket of darkness and the naive belief that love could conquer all, we gave ourselves to each other. It was clumsy and sweet, a moment etched into my soul.

But then dawn came, reality set in, and I let go without a fight. The world expected too much from us, and I caved. I left for a future that seemed golden but was tarnished without her in it.

My parents had their plan for me, for my future, one that didn’t include her. And my father, the force that had always dictated my life, made it clear that I had no choice but to follow his path. They didn’t just tear us apart—they made sure I was pulled far away.

The boarding school was a punishment, a way to separate us, to ensure we wouldn’t disrupt the perfect future they had planned for me. I never had a say in it. The moment I stepped onto that plane, I knew it was a mistake. But I was young. I let them win. And I've regretted it every day since.

I left for a future that was nothing without her in it. Even after all these years, after everything I’ve built, I still carry her with me. I never stopped thinking about her. She’s always been in my heart, even when I tried to ignore it. She’s never been far, and I’ve never forgotten.

Now, watching her slowly slip away from me again? I can't. I can't do that again. I can't lose her. Not now, not when I finally have a second chance. I wasn’t strong enough to fight for her then. I’ll be damned if I let her walk away again now.

"Skylar," I say again, softer this time. "Talk to me."

She stops pacing, her shoulders rigid. "What do you want me to say, Theo? That everything's fine?" Her voice is tight, her words clipped.

I want to tell her that I know things are far from fine, that every fiber of my being screams to close the distance between us, to not make the same mistake twice. But fear clamps down on my tongue, and I swallow the truth.

"Nothing's changed." My voice barely rises above a whisper, laden with an emotion I can't disguise. "I'm still here for you, no matter what."

She looks at me then, really looks at me, and for a second, I catch a glimpse of the girl who used to look at me like I was her whole world. But then she vanishes as quickly as she appeared, replaced by the steel fortress Skylar built around herself.

"Go back to your tech toys, Theo," she says, turning away. "That's where you're best, isn't it? Hiding behind screens."

Her words sting, but I know they're just a deflection—a way to keep some distance between us. I won't let her push me away again. Not this time. I'm not the same boy who didn't fight hard enough, who couldn't see past the present.

"Maybe," I concede, because arguing would only drive her further away. "But I never stopped caring about you. Not for a single day."

She doesn't respond, but the slight hitch in her step tells me she's heard me. It's not much, but it's enough. Enough for me to hold onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, she feels it too—the pull of a bond that's been stretched and frayed but never broken.

It's not just her, though. Cohen and Austin, with their stubborn pride and foolish games, are fanning the flames of this disaster. I watch them, my gaze flickering between Skylar's retreating figure and the two idiots who seem hell-bent on driving her away for good.

"Seriously?" My voice cuts through the silence, sharper than I mean it to be. "This is how you're going to play it?"

Cohen looks up, his eyes meeting mine. There's an edge there, but it's dulled by exhaustion, shadows lying heavy beneath his blue gaze. He knows he's messing up, has to know, yet he's trapped in his own head, playing defense against ghosts of his past.

"Play what, Theo?" he asks, his voice low.

"Like you don't see what's happening," I snap. "Like you don't care that she's one bad day away from leaving us all."

Austin's lips press into a thin line, his expression unreadable. It's like trying to read the surface of a frozen lake, knowing there's life underneath but unable to reach it. But I see the cracks forming; I see how much Skylar shakes the ground he stands on.

"Is this really your best?" I challenge him, unable to keep the accusation from my tone.

"Watch it, Theo," Austin warns, his voice steady but his blue eyes betraying a storm beneath.

"Or what? You'll lose her because you're too damn scared to face your own feelings?" I can feel my control slipping, anger bubbling up. I won't let their stupidity—their fear—be the reason Skylar disappears from our lives.

"Enough," Cohen mutters, running a hand through his hair. "We're not having this discussion now."

"Then when, Cohen? When she's gone?" My words are a punch, thrown with the desperate hope that they'll knock some sense into them.

"Look," Austin starts, taking a step toward me, his jaw clenched. "We all know what's at stake."

"Do we?" I question, the doubt obvious in my voice. "Because it seems to me like you're both ready to write her off as collateral damage in whatever internal wars you're fighting."

They exchange a glance, a silent conversation that I'm not privy to but that speaks volumes about the chaos brewing beneath the surface. The resolve hardens within me like cooling steel.

I won't give up. Not on Skylar, not on the possibility of something more—something real. Even if I have to drag these two kicking and screaming into the fight, I'll do it. Because nothing matters more than making sure Skylar stays in our lives, that the tentative threads holding us together aren't severed by fear or foolishness.

And if it's a war they want, then it's a war they'll get. Because when it comes to Skylar, I'm all in. For the long haul, no matter what it takes.

"Listen," I snarl, my voice low and laced with barely controlled rage. "This—" I gesture between the three of us, "—this isn't working."

Austin's gaze hardens, the muscles in his jaw twitching. "What do you want, Theo?"

"Dammit, Austin, look at her!" I half-shout, throwing my hand at where Skylar is standing, alone, radiating an aura of untouchable grace even as she masks her crumbling world. "She's pulling away because of us, because of your damn distance! Why are you acting like she doesn't matter to you?"

His eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms defensively. "I've got a lot on my plate, Theo. It's not about her."

"Like hell, it isn't." Frustration seethes through me, hot and vicious. "Skylar needs us—to be there, to be present. And you're treating her like she's just another item on your to-do list, something you can check off and move on from. Is that all she is to you? A passing distraction?"

The silence that follows is heavy, loaded with unspoken truths and denial. Austin looks away, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows whatever excuses threaten to spill out. He knows I'm right, we both know it, but his stubbornness is a wall I'm determined to tear down.

"Why are we even doing this?" Austin's voice breaks through the tension, his words rough and edged with frustration. "You finally have your second chance, Theo. Why not just take it and leave the rest of us out of it? Why drag us into something that clearly isn’t meant to be?”

His challenge hangs in the air, thick with accusation. It stings, but I don’t back down.

"Because it's what she wants," I reply, my words sharper than I intended them to be. "Skylar wants this. Even if she’s fighting it now, she wants us— all three of us. I can see it."

Austin’s jaw clenches, his muscles tight as if fighting back something far deeper than just a conversation. I see it—his stubborn pride, the walls he’s built, and the fear that’s keeping him locked in his own head. The tension between us tightens, pushing me to stand firm.

"And if she’s fighting it?" Austin presses, his voice low but furious. "What then? You really think this is what's best for her? For any of us?"

I step closer, my frustration boiling over. "She's not fighting it because it's not meant to be, Austin. She's fighting it because she's scared. Scared to hope, scared we’ll pull away. And you—" I gesture between the two of us, "—are making it worse with your distance, your damn fear to be real with her."

Austin takes a step back, as if my words have struck deeper than he’s willing to admit.

"Skylar deserves better," I press on, my voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, the hurt mingling with the anger. "She deserves all of us. Not this half-assed attention you think you can get away with. If you care about her, really care, then prove it. Because if we lose her now, we lose her for good."

With Austin momentarily silenced, my gaze slides over to Cohen, the intensity of my frustration far from diminished. "And you," I start, my voice low and threaded with accusation, "what's your excuse? Why are you just standing there, watching her crumble?"

Cohen crosses his arms. His eyes, dark and clouded like an impending storm, meet mine but flicker away too quickly. "It's not that simple," he mutters, the scruff on his jaw seeming all the more pronounced as he clenches his teeth.

"Make it simple," I demand, stepping closer to him. "She's falling apart, Cohen, and you're acting like you don't see it. Like the last few weeks never happened. Are you really going to let her slip away without even trying?"

He exhales sharply, a sound that carries the weight of his own battles. "You think I don't care?" There's a fire in his voice now, a spark of something that I've been waiting to see. "I'm just trying to keep my head above water, man. You know what I've been through."

"Then don't drown alone!" I shoot back, my patience threadbare. "Don't let Skylar drown either. She needs us—all of us—to be real with her. To show up, not just physically, but emotionally too."

The standoff is palpable, two men driven by their own demons. How can they not see that she's become our center of gravity?

"Skylar's been through hell," I murmur more to myself than to them, the silence wrapping around my words. "She's trying to heal, and she needs us—not this...whatever we've been giving her."

"Look," I start again, my voice firm but calm, "I'm not saying I have all the answers. But I can't—I won't—let her slip away without a fight."

I meet Austin's gaze first, then Cohen's, letting them see the determination etched into every line of my face. I need them to understand how serious I am.

"Whatever it takes," I say, each word deliberate, "we have to remind her that she's not alone. That she's loved and wanted. By all of us."

They nod, a silent agreement passing between us, and something shifts in the room. It's subtle, but it's there—a renewed sense of purpose. We're on the same page now, or at least starting to turn to it.

As they walk away to process everything, presumably to figure out their next steps, I stay rooted in place. A sense of clarity washes over me. Skylar's pulling away for a reason. She's been hurt before, and she's scared it'll happen again. Who wouldn't be?

But I'm not going anywhere. Not this time. And if that means putting in the hard work, facing the tough conversations, and tearing down those walls brick by brick, then so be it.