Urian tried calling Styxx again, and again it rolled to voice mail. Afraid Styxx might have slipped into another coma, Urian flashed himself to Styxx’s condo.
He knew the minute he materialized that something wasn’t right. Everything about the condo felt off. But glancing around, he saw nothing out of place.
“Styxx?”
No one answered.
He quickly searched the condo to find it empty. This time when he went into Styxx’s bedroom, he saw that Styxx had pulled out the sketchbook page of him and Phoebe and left it on top of his desk with a folded note. Fear cinched his gut as he opened it and read.
Urian,
You’re the only one who will notice that I’m not here. Don’t worry, I’m not doing anything particularly stupid. I just don’t want to live in a world I don’t understand anymore.
When I find my place and the peace I need to function, I’ll be in touch. Until then, take care, my brother. And thank you for being my friend.
S
Grinding his teeth, Urian wanted to find Styxx and beat the shit out of him for the pain he felt right now, and he didn’t know why he felt it. Why should he care? He barely knew Styxx.
It must be that they were kindred spirits. Styxx was the only one who really understood about Phoebe. After almost six years, everyone else had lost patience with his unwillingness to move on and find someone new to love.
But it wasn’t that easy. Not when you had a past that was so hard to share with another person. One that left you bleeding and vulnerable. It was difficult to open up to anyone because the moment you did, you knew you ran the risk of being hurt worse, and humiliated should they ever tell your secrets, and when you’d been hurt all your life by others …
There was only so much bravery in any given soul. And while Urian was more than willing to risk his life, he’d never again risk his heart. He was done with that shit.
Not even sex was worth the possibility of getting emotionally attached. He’d rather take things into his own hands than risk going through one more bout of Xanthia-style psychodrama, or worse, Xyn or Phoebe heartbreak.
At his age, it just wasn’t worth it.
That level of burn was unending.
To finally find the courage to trust and to dare lay your heart in the hands of another and then to lose them was the ultimate cruelty. And it was not something you ever got over. Ever.
Six years was just a blink of the eye. And apparently so was eleven thousand. As he well knew. ’Cause not a day went by where he didn’t think about Xyn.
If he closed his eyes right now, he could still see the red of her hair in his hands. Feel her lips tickling his skin. Smell her scent on a stray breeze. She was every bit as deeply embedded in his soul as Phoebe.
They had left him changed. Had left him marked.
And in the end, they had left him abandoned.
Lost.
He couldn’t go through it again. He’d rather be dead.
Urian cleared his throat. “Good luck, brother. I hope when you find a way to sleep through the night and breathe again, you’ll share the secret with me.”
Because right now, he still wasn’t sleeping. Some days and nights, he barely functioned.