Masuk.
Walker's POV I can't stop thinking about the kid and wondering if he's okay. I stayed home with him the past three days. He wasn't too happy about having to stay in the house with me the entire time. But I wasn't about to let him stay alone with staples in his head, a concussion, and a large bruise that covers most of his side, which causes him to wince in pain when he moves the wrong way or lifts something too heavy. If I didn't keep a close eye on him, he'd end up hurting himself further. The kid refuses to listen. I tell him to rest and not get up or move around too much, and when I turn around, he's up walking around the house, looking for something to do. I wanted to stay home with him at least one more day, but he insisted I go to work so I wouldn't miss our deadline. If the next team wasn't waiting for us to finish so they could start, I would have stayed home with him. That, and I wanted to be there when we erect the rafters for the roof. Knowing these guys, Jason would pro
Tristan's POVMy head throbbed as I opened my eyes. I reached up to grab my head, but paused when I saw an IV in the back of my right hand. I looked around and found I was in a hospital room, and Walker was in the chair beside me. Relief flooded me at the sight of him, but it also made warmth spread through my chest.I don't know why seeing him sitting there made my heart beat the way it did, or why it made my stomach flutter.He's sleeping with his head leaned back against the chair, and his lips closed, as if even in his sleep, he can't relax. I stare at him until I hear someone yawn from the other side of the room. I lift my head, look down, and I'm surprised to find the whole crew is here.Jason lay on the floor with a pillow and blanket, while the others sat in a chair. Everyone was asleep except Derek and Alex. They both stood when they saw me looking at them. “Hey, how are you feeling?” Alex asked as he approached.“Like my head is in a vise and someone is cranking it, trying
Walker's POVI feel sick to my stomach knowing everything he's been through, and now he's hurt again because of my negligence. Those kids didn't even know him, but his father?... How could a father hurt their child? How could his father leave scars on him like the ones I just saw? How could a father kick their child out at 17? Just throw them out into the world with no way to care for themselves.The thought enraged me. It makes me want to track his father down and kill him slowly. Unfortunately, that would probably make it worse. All that would do is hurt him…Him… I first saw him in town while I was getting gas. He walked out of the alley behind the shops, rubbing his eyes as though he had just woken up. I tried pulling my eyes away, but I couldn't. For some reason, I was drawn to him. His hair looked dirty, and so did his clothes, but his face was surprisingly clean. He was thin… too thin. I watched him wander around, even after my tank was full. I couldn't even replace the nozzl
When we got to the beach, the crew was already there, and I was both excited and nervous. I’m excited because I discovered I love the beach, but I'm nervous because I'm finally ready to wear my new swim shorts in front of everyone. Yes, everyone knows I'm gay, but no one has seen me dress like I am. Well, except Walker. I didn't like the swim shorts I originally had. They weren't comfortable, and I didn't feel like myself while wearing them. It took a while to find something I liked. Something that was more me, and when I did, I bought every color they had. They're not like the ones I usually see guys wearing, the kind that are loose, baggy, and hang down to your knees. These are different; they're short. Very short. They stop just below my butt cheeks, and are tight, showing off my butt. They're colorful and have a little slit on the sides that shows a little more skin, and makes me feel pretty. They're more feminine, more me. As I walk toward everyone, they say hi, and no one b
The last month has flown by. I can't recall a time in my life when there was always something to do, like there is now. When I was homeless, the only thing I had to do was try to stay alive: find food and a place to sleep. But now things are different. Life isn't just moving around me; I'm finally moving with it. It took us a week and a half to finish the studio apartment above his garage. Everything in there is new: the cabinets, sink, floors, everything. He gutted the place. Even the paint on the walls and ceiling is new. I thought I would have to furnish it myself, and I had every intention of doing that, but Walker insisted on doing it. He wanted me to save my money. I was surprised when he took me along and let me pick everything out. I wasn't expecting that, especially since he was the one paying for it.It was nice sleeping in that little room in his house, but there's something about having your own place. Especially this place. I've never felt so at home before. I've neve
I watched Walker do the dishes after breakfast. He wouldn't let me lift a finger to help. He worked quietly and efficiently; he barely had to look to see where his hands grabbed and placed the dishes. Like he had done it a million times, and perhaps he has. When he was done, he gave me the grand tour of the house. It's an old farmhouse he updated while keeping much of its original charm. The kitchen is small compared to most, tucked at the back of the house. The kitchen was updated with knotty-wood butcher-block countertops and light-gray cabinets with copper handles. The sink is my favorite. A deep porcelain double-wide farmhouse sink with a beautiful rustic copper faucet.The back door is to the left of the kitchen and opens to the driveway. A large window overlooked a big, beautiful backyard. At the end of the yard was a hayfield that stretched on as far as I could see. Walker said it belongs to the neighbors behind him. Aside from the kitchen, the first floor has a living room,



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