Lost Boy Read Online Free PDF

of thought because she is family. She's my girl in an innocent way.
    The ache on my skin of my fresh tattoo is the only thing holding me together. If I can't just talk to her, I’ll have sleeves in no time. Or my back will be covered. Either way, I need to find a way to release it where I don’t have to stay in control.
    I have given up my other ways for her. I want to be the person she needs, not the man I am.
    Weeks pass, they don’t change much. We watch the same things and the same faces. We watch her make the same moves and live in the same bubble.
    Stuart walks into the apartment and looks at my new tattoo bandage. He shakes his head while stuffing a sandwich in his mouth.
    “What?”
    He nods, “What’s that one look like?” In the last three months I’ve gotten four of them.
    I bite my lip and lift the bandage up.
    He stays quiet when he sees it.
    Neither one of us say anything. I don’t want to talk about it, but for whatever reason, I want him to see it.
    I want someone to see it, because I can't show the person I need to show it to. She’s dead. She's dead because I failed her. I should have protected her. That has never changed. At least I have a second chance, with the other girl.
    I put the bandage back and pull on a shirt, “I’m going out. Eyes on the camera.”
    He gives a thumbs up and continues chewing.
    I grab the sandwich he brought me and carry it out onto the street.
    Stuart texts me, 'Yo, she's on the move.'
    I pace until I see her leave the building, walking with a friend, the Michelle Monkton girl. They get into a car. I get into the truck and follow them to the other side of town where the houses are nicer and more family oriented.
    They get out. The girl is nattering on about something. She doesn’t notice my girl is sad about something. She has the fake look on her face that she gets around other people. She doesn’t usually get it around Michelle.
    My girl walks inside, fidgeting and looking unsure. I hate it.
    I want to save her. I want her to know someone loves her; I just need to find them. I know she isn’t a Spicer. I think I always did.
    The dead look in her eyes came from loss. The loss of her family, safety, and love.
    I sit parked for a minute, as she goes inside and closes me out. Knowing I can't sit here and wait, I get out and walk around the block to the street behind Michelle’s house. The house behind them looks like no one is home. I walk around the side yard, like I am supposed to do it and enter through the backyard. I like trusting, small-town people who leave their back doors unlocked.
    The house is dark and stinks of old cooking smells. I get up to the living room window and sit there, watching the backyard. There’s a pool, it’s not fancy. Nothing is fancy at Michelle’s but it looks homey. Like middle-income people who hug their children, because they had them out of an act of love.
    My girl sits at the edge of the pool with her legs in the water. She’s holding something, her hand sanitizer. She’s on edge. I see her trying and I see them attempting to not notice. But no one is succeeding.
    She watches one of the brothers. It bothers me. She’s young, too young. She’s fragile and needs me, and that makes her mine.
    A slow frown crosses my brow. She isn’t mine like that; she can look at boys her age. I have to stop seeing her that way. I narrow my gaze, pulling my binoculars from my pocket and search for her face.
    When I find her, she’s sad. I don’t know what to do about it.
    I pull my phone out and dial. I hate that I have to do it but I do.
    “Hello?” she answers quickly.
    “Jane, this is a mistake. We need to talk to her. She needs to know about me as much as I need her.”
    She sighs into the phone, “Eli, you have to stop this. This is bringing you backwards. You need to keep your distance. I’ve seen her every week for the last few months. I know what she needs. I’ve told you before, you shouldn’t be involved until we need you