In last week's episode of No Way Out, Wyatt is nervously awaiting Shy's arrival. Shy's not having a good evening, far from it. Will Wyatt be sensitive to his needs? Does Lukas need to read him the riot act? Find out in this week's chapter of No Way Out. Also, just a reminder that next week will be the last one that I'll post online. So if you want to keep up with the story as I write it, email me and let me know. Don't forget to see what the rest of the Briefers are up to. Their links follow my tale! Enjoy!
No Way Out #25
“What the fuck do you think I am, an animal?” Wyatt’s indignation mounted, but at a glance from Lukas, he subsided into wounded silence.
“I didn’t say that. Didn’t even think it. But you honestly don’t know what you’re dealing with. It would take so little to scar that poor boy. And I’m not just talking sex here, though God knows that probably hasn’t been pleasant. Just don’t expect him to respond to you because you want him to. He won’t appreciate it, and he won’t know how to handle it. Take everything very slow with him. Everything, Wyatt.”
“I just want to help him, Lukas,” Wyatt said plaintively. “That’s all. I have no ulterior motives. I’m not trying to get him into bed or anything. Honest.”
“I believe you care about him. Too much.”
“What do you mean too much?”
“I think you’re forgetting who he belongs to.”
Another growl rose in Wyatt’s throat. “That’s ridiculous. He can’t belong to anyone but himself. What kind of times do you think we live in?”
“You tell him that and you’ll find out,” Lukas said flatly. He laid a hand on Wyatt’s arm, gazing earnestly into his eyes. “I know you mean well and you want to protect him. But what happens when he tells you he’s going back to Randy? What happens when his dom gets out of the hospital and claims Shy all over again? You have to realize that’s going to happen. You can’t afford to love this boy, Wyatt, you just can’t.”
“Maybe he won’t get out.” Wyatt clutched at straws. “People die from heart attacks all the time.”
“Yeah and maybe that would be a kindness to Shy, but you can’t count on that. And I don’t believe you’d wish someone’s death for that reason.”
Wyatt set his mouth in a tight line and refused to let himself be drawn into an argument. Grant’s death would not cause him to shed any tears, and he’d be no loss to the world. Most of all, Shy would be set free... If that was a horrible thought, then so be it.
“So, what are you planning on doing?”
“Just keep him safe. Take care of him the best I can.”
“With no expectations?”
“With no expectations.”
“Good.” Lukas let out a long breath. “That’s a start.”
Wyatt saw the lights first, cutting through the darkness of the street. He jumped to his feet, almost falling in the process. A swift but gentle kick from Lukas reminded him to settle down.
“Why don’t you answer the door while I clear up this mess?” He gathered up the empty bottles in one hand, picked up the glasses in his other, and quirked a brow at Wyatt.
“Yes, I know. Friend, not lover.”
Lukas nodded, satisfied, and left the room.
It felt like an eternity, but was probably mere moments later, that the sound of the doorbell shattered the silence. Wyatt took a deep breath. You can do this. You have to do this. For Shy’s sake.
Then he opened the door.
* * * *
The thought uppermost in Shy’s mind was home. Getting home before Randy, making sure everything was immaculate. And preparing for his punishment. That he’d be punished, he had no doubt. Randy had told him to do something, and he’d not done it. There would be consequences, that Shy knew.
The man who drove him home was nice. He hadn’t talked much, for which Shy was grateful. He’d asked Shy what music he liked to listen to. Shy said he didn’t know much about music, so the man—who said his name was Bill—picked out a station. Shy didn’t care; he wasn’t listening.
When they walked up the path, only then did he realize that this was not home. But before he could voice his concern, the door had opened and there stood Wyatt, and whatever Shy had been about to say evaporated, leaving him tongue-tied.
“Come in, come in,” Wyatt welcomed them, standing aside. Bill motioned Shy ahead of him. Shy was unsure of what to do, but his feet had no such problem, and he found himself inside the house, without having decided to move.
Another man entered the room, presumably from the back of the house. Shy recognized him. He knew his name was Lukas. He was a friend of the man who lived across the street from them. He was also a member of the club.
Lukas glanced at Wyatt, then at Bill. Everyone seemed frozen, like living statues. Wyatt broke the silence first.
“Sit down, Shy, please.” He took a step toward him then stopped, gesturing toward the sofa.
Shy reluctantly took a seat, to be polite, but he hovered on the edge of the cushions; he didn’t intend to stay for any length of time. “I have to get home,” he repeated. Maybe if he said it often enough, it would happen.
Another awkward moment. When Bill cleared his throat, Shy thought Wyatt would jump out of his skin. The thought almost made him giggle, but he held it in.
“Sorry,” Lukas apologized. “Wyatt, this is Bill Blankenship. Bill, this is my protégé, Wyatt Findley. You’ve heard me talk about him, I’m sure.”
“Oh yes, definitely.” Bill held out his hand to Wyatt, and Shy watched them shake.
“Thank you for bringing Shy. And for everything you did for him. I can’t thank you enough...”
“You don’t have to thank me. That was just—” He stopped speaking, glanced at Shy. “That was wrong on too many levels,” he finished.
“Does he know—? I mean, has there been any word?” That was Lukas now.
Does who know what? Sometimes they seemed to be speaking just outside of his knowledge, as if they were discussing him and didn’t want him to know what they were talking about. But why?
“I haven’t heard anything, but frankly, I’m not interested in his condition,” Bill replied.
to be continued
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