Beneath the Stain - Part 3 Read Online Free PDF Page A

Mackey sleep. He was defenseless like this, every bit of sarcasm, sass, and fire shuttered behind closed eyes. Trav had to protect him when he slept—who else would? So far the world had done a stunningly poor job of taking care of Mackey Sanders. Kell had Blake. Stevie and Jefferson had apparently always had each other. But Mackey?
    Mackey couldn’t even protect himself from himself, although God knew he tried.
    For that vulnerable moment between sleeping and waking, Trav hadn’t been able to protect himself from Mackey either.
    Attraction, unwanted and uncomfortable, wormed its way into Trav’s consciousness and settled in his gut. It left a host of uncomfortable realizations behind it.
    That was when Trav sat up, used the bathroom, splashed water on his face, and tried to scare up some breakfast in the cafeteria.
    He couldn’t. Not the breakfast—he had a piece of fruit and some milk. No, it was the attraction he couldn’t do. He would not acknowledge it. Impossible. This kid depended on him. Trav couldn’t let him down.
    He came back into the room and Mackey was sitting up eating eggs, the blanket loosely draped over his bare legs. Trav could make out one of those big donut pillows under his hips, and he sighed.
    “Yeah,” Mackey muttered. “Hiding this shit is gonna be hard.”
    “You know,” Trav said, feeling like a dog with a bone, “there’s a place where people are really fucking anonymous, and where you could heal your body and your soul.”
    Mackey glared at him. “Rehab,” he muttered. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. All roads lead to rehab. I’m hearing you.”
    “Do you hear me enough to go from here to rehab without passing go?”
    Mackey thought about it and munched on some toast while his eggs and sausage congealed on the plate. Trav looked at the food getting ready to be wasted and sighed.
    “Will you think about it more if I go get you a donut?”
    Mackey looked up and just emanated sunshine. “Really? They have donuts? You’d get me one? Really?”
    Trav swallowed hard. “Yeah, Mackey. I’ll go get you a couple—any preferences?”
    His smile widened, pushing his cheeks up until his eyes squinted. Trav could see his overbite, and the crowding on the bottom, and the pure vulpine beauty of his features. “Apple fritters,” Mackey said, nodding. “Not pastries or danishes but fritters—do they have those?”
    “I’m pretty sure—and if they don’t, I’ll go down the block, so I might be a few, but I’ll be back.”
    That smile, sunshiny and surreal, stayed in place. “That’s awesome, Trav. Thanks!”
    Trav nodded. He had to get the hell out of there, because he was suddenly not comfortable in his own skin. He tried to remember Terry, a grown-up, sitting across from him and eating cereal in his pajama bottoms and socks, but he couldn’t. There was too much sunshine in his eyes to see anything but Mackey.
    “You’re welcome,” Trav said and practically bolted through the door. He had a sudden thought when his hand hit the frame, though, and he turned around. “Just, uhm, don’t go anywhere, okay?”
    Mackey rolled his eyes. “My ass fuckin’ hurts, Trav. Where’m I gonna go?”
    Great. There was some cold water right there.
    “Yeah. Yeah—I’ll be back.”
    He actually did have to go to the donut shop down the block, and he came back with a dozen since he knew Mackey’s brothers would be by later. Jefferson—apparently the Trav/Outbreak Monkey liaison—texted telling Trav they’d be by to visit around noon. Trav asked for him to bring some of Mackey’s clothes—new ones, he specified, because he was tired of seeing Mackey ignore the new clothes on his own and go for the stuff that Kell had probably worn in the ninth grade—and then asked if Kell or Blake suspected the rape. He didn’t ask if Stevie or Shelia knew—he was going to assume they did.
    No. But Blake is stoned already. Maybe him and Mackey should be roomies in rehab.
    Trav grimly thought he’d have a