“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
Bailey Bradford
38
“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 sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Bo, imagined the man trying to escape the fists and belts—Max knew what those welts were, he’d had plenty of them himself when he was a kid. Seeing those long, cruel stripes that had been pounded into Bo’s flesh stirred up memories, which was never a good thing in Max’s opinion.
A glance at the alarm clock told Max it was time for another dose of pain meds for Bo.
Max gingerly got out of bed, trying to keep the bedsprings squeaking to a minimum. He nearly laughed at his attempt not to wake Bo—wasn’t he fixing to do just that when he gave him his pills? But it just seemed kinder to wake the man with a gentle touch rather than the sound of metal grinding together.
Max palmed the pills he’d laid out and rose, walking quietly across the few feet that separated their beds. He knelt beside Bo’s bed, worried he’d terrify Bo and bring on memories of the assault if he woke the man while lumbering over him. Max gently brushed a lock of hair off Bo’s sweaty brow, letting his fingers linger on the soft, slick skin.
Bo shifted and moaned piteously, and Max thought his heart would break right then and there. He brushed his fingers over Bo’s brow one more time then brought his hand to Bo’s shoulder.
MILES TO GO
Bailey Bradford
39
“Hey, Bo,” Max whispered. “Time for your pain pills.”
Bo’s breath hitched and he turned his head towards Max. He lifted his arm and flailed his hand, crying out when his knuckles smacked into Max’s chest. Max’s stomach
plummeted and he grasped Bo’s hand with his, clutching it tightly to his chest.
“Bo, wake up, it’s Max.” Bo’s fingers spasmed against Max’s skin, right over his heart, then clenched tightly, catching a handful of Max’s chest hair. Max bit back a hiss and leaned closer to Bo, trying to keep from having his hair ripped out. “Bo, it’s Max, you need to wake up. C’mon, baby—”
Max jerked back at the endearment, wondering where the hell it had come from. He hadn’t ever called anyone ‘baby’ unless there was an actual baby involved. Pain zinged out like a thousand tiny needles were spiking through his chest and calling Bo ‘baby’ suddenly wasn’t so troublesome. I should have slept in sweats and a T-shirt! Or a damned bullet-proof vest!
This is what he got for trying to make sure Bo felt comfortable! Max had felt awkward about being in just his boxers around someone else, but he’d shoved down his reservations because Bo wanted to sleep in his underwear only. He didn’t want Bo to feel weird—or think he was weird. Plus Annabelle had thought the heat needed to be turned up for Bo’s sake.
“Bo—” The fingers pulling his hair tightened and tugged. Max nearly toppled forward onto Bo in his attempt to keep from having a bald patch on his chest. “Bo, God—” Damn it!
That hurt! The fingers causing Max’s torment released him so suddenly Max flopped back on his ass. By the time he managed to scramble back up to his knees, Bo was pushed up on his elbows and looking at him with a mix of confusion and pain in his expression.
“What happened?” Bo rasped.
“Just clumsy,” Max
