If There's a Way (Lost Boys #2)

by Jessie Walker

I go to reach for his face, only to remember where we’re at. Who we’re surrounded by. Touching him like that would be the last fucking thing he needs, even if he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing that exists right now.

Will’s hand disappears and I feel him start to stand. My hand lets go of the toilet and shoots out before I can stop myself, grasping at his jeans. He pauses. “Don’t,” I say. My voice rumbles against the porcelain. A beat passes. “I was just gonna get you water.” I shake my head. This time, when Will goes to sit back down, he plops down behind me instead, stretching his legs out on either side of me. I physically feel the tension leave him—all his hesitation. Like he can finally breathe now too.

His arm around my middle tightens while he slides his other hand up toward my chest, spreading his fingers right over my chest. “Still beating?” he whispers, dropping his chin to my shoulder. I sniff, and give him a little nod. He presses a kiss just under my ear, breathing me in. Neither of us say anything as we just sit there, with Will maintaining his protective cocoon around me as I ride out the rest of my panic attack. Every so often he taps his fingers against my chest, like he’s giving instructions to my heart—just a simple one-two beat that has my mouth twitching with the beginnings of a smile.

Footsteps sound from outside the bathroom, but when Will goes to move away, I drop my hands to his forearms, gripping him in place.

I swallow and try to find the words, but Will’s already two steps ahead, as always. I make a mental note to be annoyed about that fact later.

“Go,” Ivy says quietly. I kind of want to smack her for it.

I’ve never known sleep could feel this suffocating—like I’m drowning, and there’s nothing but blackness beyond; a black, dreamless void—and all I can think is⁠— All I can pray is⁠— That I can find my way back to the surface. That I can wake up. That I can find Will and tell him⁠— I just need to tell him⁠— I just… I need… to…

“Thank you,” a voice says, yanking me out of my spiraling thoughts. I lift my gaze to find Mason watching me with a look I can’t place. His brow wrinkles like he’s trying to figure something out. “Why are you thanking me?” He shrugs, and his face flushes faintly. “Because you’ve been a far better friend to him these last few months than I’ve been for years.”

“You love him, right?” A lump forms in my throat, making my voice raspy and nearly inaudible—it’s a wonder she even hears me. “More than I probably should,” I find myself admitting.

alley—“I never took you for a coward, Will. So find those big, stupid balls of yours that you had no problem toutin’ around like a douchebag when you first rolled into town, and get your shit together before I fucking kick them up into your asshole.”

“He’s right here, Will,” she says, quieter this time as the words seem to wrench out of some deep place in her chest. “He’s right fucking here. So what are you waiting for?”

Even the sun needs a break sometimes—it’s why it has the moon to help out every night.”

I want to clutch his shoulders and pull him against my chest. I want to cup his cheeks with strong, certain hands and brush his nose with mine. Relearn the texture of his lips. His taste. Cement it into my brain—every fiber of my being—so I never again forget how stupid I was for ever fighting this. Ever fighting him.

I want to be Will’s boyfriend. Maybe more than anything I’ve ever wanted. It’s such a silly, simple word for what we have, and yet, it’s everything.

“But you know what? You know what I’ve realized?” I go on, not tearing my gaze off his. “What?” “I like myself a whole lot better when I’m with you.” It takes a second for my words to register, and when they do, he stills. My mouth twitches. “Yeah, City Boy. You heard me.” His lashes flutter like he wants to look away, so I quickly reach up and cup his jaw—the uninjured side, since I can’t be trusted not to throttle him this time—forcing him to stay put. “None of that. I need your eyes on me. I need to make sure you’re listening.”

“When you came back to Shiloh…” I tell him after a moment. “And we… you know.” I gesture between us. “Well, I finally, finally started to believe that maybe I was wrong. That maybe I could have something good. Like… like maybe I finally paid my dues for existing when I shouldn’t have, and this was my reward. You were my reward.”

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be sober now. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in therapy. If it weren’t for you,” I choke out through my teeth, nearly inaudible, “I can’t say I’d still even be here. In Shiloh, on this planet, who the fuck knows?”

“You make me want to hang on and fight. You make me believe I stand a chance. You. No one else. You.” “Way,” he chokes out. I laugh through my tears. “God, you’ve ruined everything, City Boy. You’ve ruined me.” I rock my head against his, not once taking my tear-filled gaze off his. “Every time I look at you, I’m ruined.” He matches my watery laugh with one of his own. “You woke me up, Will,” I tell him again after our laughter fades. “And it’s been painful. Hard. It’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” I let go of his jaw and draw my thumb down his temple, tracing his hairline like he’s the finest, smoothest china. Precious. Sacred. But I refuse to keep him in a glass case anymore, where he can’t be touched. He deserves better than that. He deserves a chance. We both do. Even if it bites us in the ass. Even if it all comes tumbling down on us tomorrow.

“Don’t for one second think you make my life worse,” I tell him roughly. “You are the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me, and I wouldn’t trade even a second of it for anyone or anything.”

Inhale. Exhale… Then— “I love you.” He freezes. I choke out on a laugh. “Christ, man. That’s gotta be what this is, right? This feeling… like I’m being ripped apart from the inside out. Like I’m dying. Like I… like I literally can’t breathe from it.” My voice catches, breaking off like glass. “All there’s left in me is… is you, and I don’t even know if that makes sense. But it’s you. It’s always been you.”

This is what I’ve been waiting for all along. Maybe my whole life. Maybe this is exactly why I’ve been put here to begin with. On this planet. In this universe. At this exact moment in time. This.

A cage where a little boy remained a prisoner for so long that he forgot what it meant to be free. What it felt like to stand in the light. But I don’t look away. I don’t back down. I’ll never hide again. Never, never, never. Because I’m staring into the abyss and the abyss is staring back at me and it’s looking at me like I am the goddamn sun. He’s looking at me like I’m the goddamn sun.

But I’m ash. I’m dust. I am his. All his. And how I ever convinced myself I could ever be anything but… Well. We’ll just leave that mystery for the gods to solve. Because I’m out. Done. Kaput. Will Foster has left the fucking building.

It’s Waylon’s. It’s all Waylon’s because he loves me—me! Finally!—and being loved by him is all I’ve ever wanted, so excuse me if I’m nothing more than a puddle of mush right now.

Against my mouth, I’m mumbling nonsense in between kisses. Things like “how” and “what” and “asshole” and “fuck, fuck, fuck, say it again.” He laughs, and I feel my own lips stretch along with his as he says, “I love you, stupid.” I groan. “Dead. I am dead. So, so dead.”

Bowing my forehead to his, I wait for his hazel eyes to focus, and then I tell him, “I am stupidly, insanely in love with you.” He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, eyes searing into mine. “Hell, I’ve loved you,” I go on deeply, my voice bottoming out with a grave sort of certainty, “in some capacity, for what feels like my entire life. Before I even knew what love was, I’ve been loving you.” I choke out a watery laugh as I stroke his cool cheeks with my thumbs. “Do you really think I could stop, even if I tried? God, I’ve wanted you in my life since the second you first glared at me and gave me some bullshit about how boys can’t cry.”

I’d do just about anything for you, but don’t ever ask me to love you less.”

“Trust me,” I whisper over his lips, “there’s no getting over you. I’ve tried. Fuck, have I tried. And it’s impossible.”

I asked him to keep his heart beating for me, but the thing is… eventually those heartbeats will run out. I don’t know what the average amount of heartbeats a person has, but I imagine it’s somewhere in the billions, right? And while that’s, like, a lot—like more than the human mind can even grasp—there’s no fucking guarantee we’ll actually have that many. There’s no fucking guarantee we’ll have even half or a quarter of those. So while I hope—pray—that he has an infinite amount of beats left… I have to face the reality that he doesn’t. He might only have millions, or thousands, or hundreds left… He might only have tomorrow. Today. I might only have today.

“Still beating, Way?” I whisper, spreading a hand right over the center of his chest. He brings one of his up to my chest, mirroring my position. “I told you,” he says deeply. “So long as I have the will to live…” I swallow hard, fingers digging into his skin, and I murmur against his lips. “There’ll always be a way.” I’ll find it. Always. I’ll always find… Him.

“And fucking you into the mattress happens to be a favorite fantasy of mine.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good fucking thing I’m too impatient today.” Burying my nose in his groin, I wrap my hands around his ass, fitting them in between the rumpled up sheets and his taut, warm globes, giving them a hard squeeze. “My cock’s fucking aching to own this ass.”

All I know is that there are tears stinging my eyes, and regret in my heart, and I’m so goddamn in love with this boy I think I might burst.

We are solid and impenetrable. And everything else can just fuck off.

“Fuck yourself all you want against the bed,” I tell him as I move my hand away so I can spread his cheeks. “But don’t you dare fucking come yet. I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

His lashes flutter, and I can’t help but wonder if he feels it too. Feels how fucking timeless we are. How fucking endless.

And there is no other person in the universe I’d rather watch unravel than this guy right here. No one who deserves to let go as much as this human. This human who’s always been mine, in some way or another. Mine. And I am his. At long fucking last, I am his.

“This is real, right?” My eyes fall shut and I nod. A soft noise breeches his throat. “If it isn’t,” I whisper against the sharp jut of his thumb, feeling the way my lip drags over his skin, “I don’t wanna wake up.”

Our stories might be interconnected—now more than ever—but we’re still just two individuals. Two flawed, broken people trying to figure out this little fuck-show called life.

The precious asshole laughs.

Pulling back, I sweep my gaze over Waylon’s face, my heart swelling at the happiness reflecting back at me. It’s a look I see a lot these days—like he’s finally at peace with himself. It’s a fucking beautiful sight.

“Hate you,” he mutters around my lip. “Hate you so much.” I’m still smiling in between his assault on my mouth as I say, “Feels like it.” I thrust against him to punctuate my point.

“One day, I’m gonna hold your hand in public, and not feel like I’m dying when I do it.”

“Baby steps,” he whispers, almost like the words are just for him. Finally managing a swallow, I glance around, trying like fucking hell not to smile like a total maniac.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Waylon mumbles as we start making our way toward Main, toward the bar. “What thing?” “The one where you gawk at me like I’m Jesus and just turned water into whiskey.”

offered my beanie earlier, but he immediately shot me down and threatened to throw it in a puddle if I didn’t wear it.

“You’re really kind of beautiful. You know that?” he had whispered, stroking a thumb across a dimple. I remember the flush that crept up my neck. The fire swelling in my chest, as I rasped, “Boys aren’t supposed to be beautiful.” He hummed, leaning forward until our noses brushed. “Bullshit.”

“Don’t.” I shake him, squeezing his flesh in my hands. “Don’t you dare fucking say his name. Don’t even look at him. You shouldn’t even be breathing the same fucking air as him,” I grit out. “Got it?”

“He loves me—fairy boy and all—and he despises you. How’s that for some poetic fuckin’ justice?”

and if you ever go anywhere near Will…” I pause, dropping my mouth by his ear once more as I grip his neck even tighter. He squirms under my weight, bucking like a defenseless little animal. “I will not hesitate to end you.”