Chapter Fifteen
Eli
I sit on Skip’s couch and watch him add yet another lock to the door.
And another.
And then he moves to the windows.
“Is all of this necessary?” I ask. “When I got here the other day, you didn’t even lock your doors.”
“I can’t tell you everything that’s going on, Eli,” he says without looking back. “I know you’ve heard some of it, and I’ll always tell you enough to keep yourself safe, but right now? I need to know you’re sleeping behind more than a flimsy deadbolt.”
“Is it because of all the new people?”
He pauses long enough to glance at me. “Those are Maverick’s men. And while I trust Maverick, I don’t extend that trust to anyone just because they wear his colors.”
“Okay… but that’s not the only reason, is it?” I ask.
He hesitates.
I’ve seen Skip confident. Cocky. Teasing. Furious.
But hesitant? That’s new.
“Los Fantasmas,” I say quietly.
His head snaps around, eyes sharp. I lift my hands.
“The girls talk,” I explain. “A lot. Loudly. And with zero filter.”
Skip sighs through his nose.
“So this is like… really dangerous, isn’t it?” I press. “The kind of dangerous that ends in blood.”
He turns fully toward me at that. No sarcasm. No smirk.
Just a single, grim nod.
“These are the people who kidnapped Abby… twice?”
Another nod.
“The ones who hurt Maverick’s family?”
Nod.
“And they’re after your family?” I swallow. “Skip… are we safe here?”
That finally breaks him.
He puts down his tools, walks over, and sits on the coffee table directly in front of me. He takes my hands like they’re something fragile…something priceless.
And his voice is laced with guilt.
“I’m pissed at myself for bringing you into this,” he says. “You don’t deserve this shitstorm, Eli.”
I open my mouth, but he squeezes my hands tighter.
“I have a friend who offered to get you a new identity and a place to stay. Ohio. Far away. Safe. Clean slate. No cartels, no mafia, no fucking bullets flying past your head.”
My chest aches in a way I don’t know how to name.
Skip takes a shaky breath.
“God, I hate even saying this,” he admits. “I don’t want you out of my sight. I don’t want you anywhere I can’t reach you or hold you or…fuck, protect you. But it’d make me a selfish bastard not to offer it.”
He lifts my hands and presses them to his chest, right over his heart.
“You’re new here. You don’t owe us anything. You don’t owe me anything. Let my friend take you away, pretty boy. Let me know you’re somewhere stress-free… safe… and happy.”
He forces a breath through his nose.
“Even if that place isn’t with me.”
The words hit harder than any punch that’s ever been thrown.
Even if it’s not with him?
My heart caves in on itself.
“You’re wrong,” I whisper. “I wouldn’t be stress-free. I’d spend every single day worrying about you. Wondering if you’re alive. Wondering if someone hurt you. Wondering if you needed me and I wasn’t there…wondering if you fell in love with someone.”
Skip’s jaw twitches, but he stays silent.
“And I wouldn’t be safe or happy,” I continue, my voice shaking. “Because, crazy as it sounds, I’ve found my happy with you.”
His breath stutters.
“I have only ever felt safe around you,” I tell him. “And I know we’ve just met. I know I’m basically holding a shovel and digging my own grave with how insane this must sound, but I don’t want to go anywhere you’re not.”
Skip looks like someone just cracked his ribs open and handed him his own heart.
“Please don’t send me away, Skip,” I whisper. “If you don’t want me here… if you’ve changed your mind about wanting there to be an ‘us,’ I’ll go. I swear I will.”
He flinches like the idea physically wounds him.
“But if what you’ve been telling me is even remotely the truth,” I say, “then right here…with you…is where I want to be.”
The silence stretches, thick enough to choke on.
I swallow hard and finish in a trembling whisper:
“If you send me away… I’ll only make my way back. Because the thought of leaving you…of you falling in love with someone else…tears my heart to pieces.”
The tears spill before I even feel them, warm tracks down my cheeks, but I don’t wipe them. I want him to see. I want him to see exactly how much that thought rips me apart.
“Oh, baby…” Skip murmurs, voice roughening as he reaches for me. His thumb sweeps across my cheek, trying and failing to catch every tear. “That’s not possible. Not now. Not ever. Because I could never love someone else when you already own my fucking heart.”
His hand cups my jaw, steady and warm. “If you left, you’d be taking it with you.”
“You…” My voice cracks. “You love me?”
Skip doesn’t even blink. “So fucking much it terrifies me,” he confesses. “So much that I’m afraid it’s too much… too fast… for you to believe it yet.”
My chest tightens. I swallow hard.
“I’ve never loved someone before,” I whisper. “But I think… what I feel for you might be love. How do I know, Skip?”
A soft smile curves his lips…gentle, reverent, unlike any expression I’ve ever seen from him.
Leaning in, he kisses me gently.
Not hungry. Not demanding.
Just soft.
Soft enough to break me and stitch me back together in the same breath.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
“You’ll know,” he murmurs, voice quiet and unbearably tender, “because when I walk in the room… your whole world shifts. Your body reacts before your mind catches up.”
A slow smile touches his lips. “Hell, half the time you faint just because I breathe too close.”
I let out a shaky laugh.
“That’s not love,” I whisper, cheeks warm. “That’s faulty wiring.”
“It’s love,” he counters, thumb brushing the wetness from my cheek. “Because even when you’re scared… even when you’re overwhelmed… you still reach for me.”
I swallow hard.
“You let me protect you,” he says. “You argue with me. You sass me. You glow when I talk to you. You fall asleep on me like you’ve been doing it your whole damn life.”
His hand slips behind my neck, warm and steady.
“And baby… I’ve never had someone look at me the way you do.”
The room tilts…just a little…but not from panic.
From him.
Skip presses another kiss to my lips, lingering, sweet, devastating.
“That’s how you know,” he whispers against my mouth. “Because losing you scares me more than war. Because loving you feels like breathing for the first time in years. Because every time you look at me…” His forehead rests on mine. “…it feels like coming home.”
My throat tightens, heat spreading across my cheeks. “And what would you say if I felt those things too?”
His smile is soft. “I’d be the luckiest bastard in the world. So, tell me, baby… do you? Do you love me?”
I swallow hard, fighting past the fear, past the voice in my head telling me men like him don’t choose men like me. But he’s here. Holding me. Loving me.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I reckon I do love you.”
“Fuck yeah,” he breathes, grinning against my lips. “Now kiss me, pretty boy. Kiss that man you love.”
And I do. Because apparently I have this terrible, wonderful habit of doing whatever this man tells me to.
When he finally lets me up for air, my lungs burn, and my heart is racing.
“Now what?” I ask, breathless.
“Now?” He smiles slowly. “Now you stay. With me. Right here. Until the damn earth cracks open beneath us.”
His thumb strokes my jaw, tender in a way that breaks me open.
“And even then, pretty boy…” he murmurs, brushing his nose against mine, “…I’m not letting you go. We’ll fall into hell together.”
I blink…
“I don’t know if that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard… or the most terrifying.”
“Terrifying?” Skip scoffs like I’m the dramatic one. “Baby, that was romantic as fuck.”
He presses a quick kiss to my lips, then grins wickedly.
“And when we fall into hell together?” he continues. “We’ll just make friends with the devil while we wait for Bones to storm down after us and fight him for the damn throne.”
I snort. “Bones would win.”
“Obviously,” Skip nods solemnly. “Lucifer doesn’t stand a chance. Man would take one look at Bones sharpening a blade on his horns and hand over the crown.”
I laugh, and Skip beams like I just solved world hunger.
“See?” he says, tugging me closer. “Romantic and practical. That’s why you love me. That’s why you’ll keep me around.”
“You’re very sure of yourself,” I mutter, shaking my head at him.
“Leave me be, boy, so I can get these damn locks installed,” he sighs dramatically, standing and grabbing his drill. “We’ve gotta start our first experiment.”
“Our what?”
“Experiment, baby,” he says over his shoulder like it’s obvious. “Project: Get my pretty boy ready to take my cock.”
I choke on my own breath. He continues casually, like he’s listing ingredients for a recipe.
“Stage one: make you come with my hand.”
He picks up a screw.
“Stage two: my mouth.”
He taps the drill against his palm.
“Stage three: my cock. I have it all planned out. And when your body gives out and reboots, I’ll be right there beside you when you wake up.”
“Oh my,” I breathe, fanning my face. “What have I gotten myself into?”
“Hey, slow that damn heart rate, Eli,” he grins, eyes dragging down my body. “I can’t have you passing out on me before I even get naked.”
“Can we… maybe… skip to stage two?” I whisper, fully betraying every ounce of dignity I’ve ever had.
Skip freezes.
Groans.
Drops the drill like it offended him.
“Fuck the third lock,” he growls, stalking toward me with all the focus of a wolf who just spotted his dinner. “I’ll finish it after.”
Laughing nervously, I back away until I hit the wall, hands out like that’ll stop him.
It won’t.
He looks absolutely feral. A predator who just watched his prey beg to be eaten.
“Skip…” I squeak.
“That’s right,” he purrs, caging me in with his body as my back hits the wall. “Say my name real sweet, pretty boy. Stage two starts right now.”
His lips crash into mine, stealing the breath straight out of my lungs. My fingers grip his shoulders on instinct, clinging to him to keep my knees from buckling.