I look at my own gas gauge. I could probably use a little, too, since it’s going to take more than just this tank to get us home—it’s the curse of not driving something more gas-efficient. I pull through the line to the second pump so Skye can get to the first one. Getting out of the truck, I straighten my shirt and look at her as we go inside to pay.
“I’ve got to use the restroom,” she says, nodding to where a “Restrooms” sign hangs from the ceiling.
“I’m going to get something to drink so I’ll wait for you,” I tell her, heading to the refrigerator section. I’m thinking bottled water because a lot of times the soda has a dirty taste if it’s been sitting on the shelf too long, and considering how unappealing this place looks from the outside, I’m willing to bet a lot of customers drive right past. The whole judging-a-book-by-its-cover thing. Now I’m inside, I can honestly say that if this were a book, I think it would need lots of help.
I fiddle by the drinks, thinking that if I waste enough time Skye will emerge from the hallway leading out from the bathroom, but the storekeeper eyes me, worried probably because I’m so tall and he’s not sure I’m not going to rob the place blind. On the contrary, I’m not taking anything more from here than the bottled water in my hand. I make it two so Skye has something to drink on the road.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the outline of a guy standing in the hallway. I catch a glimpse of Skye, her back plastered against the wall as the guy leans towards her, way too close. I start to head that direction when I hear the guy at the register yell, “Hey, you can’t take those back there.”
Whirling, I shoot him a glare and smack the two bottles on the shelf. I arch an eyebrow, daring him to say something else. Instead, he rings up a biker in black leather. When I step into the hallway, I notice the guy is shorter than I am and he’s rubbing Skye’s wrist. The thinning hair on the top of his head is a clue that he’s about twice her age, meaning he has no business even coming around her. Skye’s eyes are closed, and her face is a pasty white. She’s breathing fast.
“Get your damned hand off,” I tell him, standing so close he actually bumps his head on the hall shelf as he whirls to face me. He’s cocky, all right, from a distance, but when he realizes I’m taller and pissed as hell, his hand drops, and his shoulders slump slightly.
“I didn’t mean nothing,” he says, averting his gaze.
“She didn’t ask you to touch her.” I snap and look past him to Skye. Her eyes are closed, and I figure she’s fighting to keep her breathing normal.
“She didn’t tell me not to.”
I step closer, my chest and back taut with fury. “She shouldn’t have to. I could plow my fist into your face with the excuse you didn’t tell me not to.”
He scoots away. I step toward Skye and gently touch her shoulder. She jumps, and her eyelids flutter open.
“Hey there. You okay?” I whisper, my free hand curled into a fist I would love to slam across that jerk’s face—not that I believe it would help. Some people are beyond that, really, they are.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, averting her gaze.
“For what? Attracting a jerk who should know better? How’s that your fault, exactly?”
Without warning, she slips forward and embraces me, resting her head against my chest. I’m sure she can hear the rapid pounding of my heart, and I’m willing to bet she’ll think that has to do with almost getting into a fight, but it’s about being so furious with that jerk I can’t see straight. Yet the moment she folds into me, all I can think about is holding onto her for as long as I can, so I gently wrap my arms around her and lean my head atop hers.
I don’t know how long we linger like that—long enough for a biker to need to get past us to get to the restrooms, and I figure whether I want to stay like this all day or not doesn’t matter. We’re going to have to hit the road, so I slowly withdraw and look at her. Her gaze is fixed on the floor, and I know she’s probably lost in some memory, a place she’s been a thousand times before that never gets easier. I reach up and slowly brush the hair from her eyes.
“You okay now?” I ask.
She nods slowly and looks up. “I’ll be fine, Devin. I always am.”
Except that one time, I want to add but don’t. That it’s unspoken doesn’t mean we don’t both feel it. Not all scars are visible. Some are so bad they don’t have to be. Trust me on that one.
I nod toward the register. “We should probably hit the road. It’s gonna be late before we get home as it is.”
“Yeah,” she agrees weakly. “You’re right. You’re always right, Devin.”
Without waiting for my answer, she heads towards the register to pay for the gas while I grab the two waters I’d put to the side before following her. She’s already paid for the gas and slipped out the door as I step up to pay, and even though I would have pumped the gas for her, she’s already got it started by the time I get there. Too late as usual, it seems.
Call me suspicious, but I’m looking around for the jerk I came so close to punching out. Yeah, doing so might have gotten me into trouble, but Skye would definitely have been worth it. Nobody should treat her that way. Nobody.
Luckily, the charmer is nowhere to be seen. I’m not sure Skye has completely let go of what happened, so rather than getting into my truck, I lean against the driver’s door of her car, holding both bottles of water. More than once, her hair falls into her face, and I watch her long, slender fingers brush it aside. While she isn’t meeting my gaze, she does seem to be functioning okay. I wait until she’s finished putting the gas in her car before I hand her the water.
“You ready?”
“Let’s go.”
Hours later, in the middle of the night, the road begins to blur, and I stiffen in my seat, feeling hours of driving beginning to take their toll, and I know we have a couple of hours before we’ll even hit West Martin’s city limits. I don’t think I can drive for that long without falling asleep, so I pick up my cell and call Skye.
“Hello?” she says. Her voice is breathy and tired, which means she’s probably just as exhausted as I am.
“Hey, Skye. I think we might want to pull over and crash for the night. You’ve been weaving a bit, and I’m starting to feel it, too.”
“Okay. I’ll pull into the next hotel I run across. There should be a few coming up.”
Sure enough, when a Holiday Inn’s welcome sign appears, I see Skye’s turn signal blink. I tap mine and follow her into the parking lot. As we get out, I’m grateful to be able to stretch my legs. At 6’4”, I’m pretty tall, and even though the Jeep has ample leg room, I feel confined.
Looking at Skye, I see her deer-in-the-headlights expression, and I know if I nudged her she’d fall over. That’s how tired she is. Instead, I slip my arm around her and guide her toward the office. She’s so exhausted she leans against me.
“May I help you?” a forty-ish woman asks, offering a smile which must have been fueled by a ton of caffeine. Nobody grins like that at 2 a.m.. I glance at my watch. Okay, make that 2:30.
“We need a couple of rooms,” I say, pulling out my wallet.
“Okay. Just a second.” She starts typing, probably checking to see which rooms are available. Then she looks up. “I’m sorry. We only have one available.”
I immediately tense, wondering how Skye is going to feel about that.
“We’ll take it,” Skye says, blinking a few times in an attempt to wake up enough to get checked in.
The hostess looks at me for confirmation. “I guess we’ll take it,” I say, digging my debit card out of my wallet.
Once we’ve paid, we drive around and park by our room. As we head inside, I ask, “Anything you need carried in?”
“Just me,” she replies in a weary voice.
“Okay. I can do that.” I lunge toward her and grab her legs so I can hoist her over my shoulder.
“Hey!” she screeches. “Put me down!”
“I will,” I reply, shoving the pla
stic card in its slot. “In a minute.” I feel her arms trying to pummel my back, but she hits like a girl, so it doesn’t hurt. The kicking feet, however, could very well topple us both.
“Put me down!” she demands.
“Okay.” I open the door. “You asked for it. Just remember that.” I carry her to the bed and throw her down.
“You are so gonna pay for that!” Skye seethes and awkwardly rises from the bed as I stand there, my arms folded across my chest while I watch her.
“You’re too tired to hurt me,” I mutter. “Maybe tomorrow.”
She comes at me full force—I have to give her that much—but even with her full body weight and force leveled at my waist, all it does is force me to take a couple of steps back and shift to keep my balance.
“Am I supposed to be falling down or something?” I ask calmly, looking down at my watch.
“Damn it, Devin!” she snaps, regrouping. Even if it’s not working, Skye is too persistent to give up, and if I don’t “help” her, we’re going to be at this for a while, so I sort of let her catch me off-balance and tumble to the bed, where she promptly sits on me, grabs my hands, and pins them above my head.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” she smirks proudly.
“Oh, really?” The temptation is too great. In a flash, I flip her over and saddle myself atop her, pinning her hands down. She’s breathing fast, and a caustic frown replaces the smirk as she glares at me.
“You’re so no fun,” she says, trying to catch her breath.
“Why? Because you can’t pin me anymore?” As I sit there, I feel her breath caressing my face and throat. Once again, I want to kiss her, but I know that’s not the best idea. I definitely don’t want to spook her again.
Without saying anything else, I get up and move to the edge of the bed, and that’s when it occurs to me the room only has one. “I guess I can take the floor.”
She sits up and readjusts herself, watching me with those bottomless eyes. “No, we can both sleep here. It’s okay.”
“You sure?” I frown, wondering what she’s thinking. Even if I asked her, she wouldn’t tell me. There are some things Skye just can’t seem to get out, especially when it comes to feelings.
“Yeah, it’s cool. I’ll take this side since I’m already here.” She pulls off her shoes and slides under the covers.
“I’ll get the lights.”
I turn them off and walk back to the bed to pull off my own shoes and slide beneath the covers as well. The curtains aren’t entirely closed, and as I peer towards her side of the bed, I see Skye’s eyes are closed and her lips are slightly parted. I know she hasn’t gone to sleep yet, but that’s what it looks like. Then again, it could be just her way of opting out of serious conversation.
I close my eyes and settle myself for the night, glad there’s a bed because I’m tired. I’m drifting on the border of sleep when I hear Skye’s voice. “I’m glad you found me, Devin—and I’m glad you’re here.”
Chapter Seven
The next day, we finish the drive home, and as I park the Jeep behind my mom’s car, she stands outside, watering her flower bed. I get out, and she turns the water off so she can give me a hug.
“How was your drive?” she asks.
“Long but good.” I point to the flower bed. “Are those the same weeds from two years ago?”
“Not funny,” she warns. “Don’t criticize the gardener unless you want to help.”
I raise my hands in surrender. “Nope. It looks beautiful, Mom.”
She turns the water back on. “I thought you were going to get here last night.”
I thrust my keys into my pocket. “Skye and I were both too tired to keep driving.”
“So how is she?” She sets the hose by the hydrangea, which is overflowing with bluish-purple flowers. A bee buzzes nearby, and I wave it away, feeling sweat beading across my forehead.
“Great.” Suddenly I’m feeling not so comfortable with this conversation because my mom’s known forever how I feel about Skye, and I sense the coming avalanche of questions, some of which I can’t answer.
“Great as in, ‘Yeah, we are dating,’ or great as in ‘We’re just really good friends’?” She gives me a pointed stare that expects an answer.
“Great as in I don’t know, Mom.” With that, I walk up the steps.
“You’re never going to know unless you ask her,” she retorts.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I call, shaking my head. I sense that my mom, who adores Skye, wants to know just as much as I do. Well, she’s going to have to be patient, too. I go inside, heading to my room. As I step across my threshold, I realize it’s always strange coming home. I mean, I remember living here, but suddenly, as I look around the room at the movie posters and remnants of high school, it’s hard to believe I was ever that person. The only real clues this is my room are all the pictures scattered around of Skye I didn’t take to college with me.
Since I’m going to be here until I figure out something about a job, I set my duffle bag on the bed and start unpacking. When I find the ring, still hidden in my jeans pocket, I pull it out and look at it for a moment before hiding it in my dresser drawer, figuring maybe one day I’ll find a way to actually propose. I’ll sense things are right or at least feel right, and then I’ll stumble through all the words, knowing I couldn’t begin to tell her what I’m feeling. There’re no words for that.
I finish piling the dirty clothes on the floor and reach for my cell to punch in Skye’s number. She picks it up on the second ring.
“So, hey, you want to grab something to eat tonight? We can take a tour of the town and see what hasn’t changed.”
Laughing, Skye says, “Devin, nothing’s changed. It never changes. You know that.”
“Okay, so how about I pick you up at 7?”
“Okay,” she agrees. “But if you’re going to drag me around town to reminisce, it’d better be a good dinner.”
“Done.” I snap the cell shut and set it on my dresser.
Although it’s only been hours since Skye and I were together, I feel my back and shoulders tensing as I walk up to her front door. As I peer at the driveway, I see two cars, meaning that probably both Warren and Helen are at home. Skye’s car is parked by the curb in front of the house.
I no sooner ring the bell than Warren eases the door open. Seeing me, he thrusts out his hand.
“Hey, there, Devin. It’s really good to see you.”
I shake his hand. “You, too, sir.”
“I’m no ‘sir.’ It’s Warren to you.” He holds the door open wide, and we both go inside to the living room, where Helen sits, watching television—at least until she spots me.
“Devin Abbott!” Before I know it, she’s darted toward me and embraced me. “Have you gotten taller?” she asks when she finally releases me.
“No, ma’am. Still the same.” Yet even as I say the words, somehow it does feel like she’s a little shorter for some reason. God knows she’s not shrinking or anything, so I don’t know what the deal is.
“So what brings you over here?” she asks, gesturing for me to take a seat in the recliner while they sit on the couch, both seemingly glad that I’m here.
“Skye and I are going to go grab a bite to eat.” I stare around the living room, wondering where she might be. “Is she around?”
Warren nods. “Yep. Out back on the trampoline. Last I checked, she was trying to do a flip like she used to, and it wasn’t going so well.”
“She’s trying to flip?” I repeat, shaking my head. “Okay, this I’ve got to see.”
“Be my guest,” Helen says. “That trampoline belongs to you two, anyway.”
I smile and get up, heading toward the back sliding door. Even before I open it, I see Skye jumping really high and launching herself into a summersault that breaks apart before she even hits the tramp. Her arms splay wide, as though she’s really trying to regain her balance, but it doesn’t work.
I st
ep out onto the porch as quietly as I can and watch as the late afternoon sunlight glows gold through her hair, catching the dark strands and burning them with light. She goes through two or three more flip attempts before I start tsking at her. She jumps.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to see you crash and burn a few times.” I step off the back patio and ease towards her. “You used to not suck at that.”
“Oh, well, let’s see you do a flip, then,” she challenges. “I don’t think you’ve got it in you, either.”
I say, “You’re on.” I take off my shoes as she climbs down. A moment later I’m airborne above the tramp, and the feel of it is like flying. It’s been years since we were out here, and yet jumping like this makes it feel like no time whatsoever has passed.
I jump a few more times to get the feel of it again and fling my body forward, somehow completing the rotation before my feet come back down on the tramp again.
“No way!” Skye shouts, staring at me in disbelief. “You cheated.”
“No, I didn’t. Watch and learn.” Grinning, I complete at least three more summersaults, not that it makes Skye very happy to know I can do something she can’t. Poor baby.
She turns away in disgust, and I get off the tramp. “You ready to get some dinner now?”
“Sure. Why not.” Her long fingers begin fastening the straps of her sandals while I ease back into my shoes. When we’re both finished, we walk through the house.
“Bye, Devin, it’s good to see you again,” Helen calls.
“Good night,” I say, slipping my arm around Skye and ushering her toward the door. Once again, she doesn’t protest, and that must mean she’s okay with it. I can’t see Skye just putting up with something she doesn’t feel comfortable with.
“So what about this wonderful dinner you’re supposed to be taking me to?” she asks, winking.
“Well, let’s get in the car, and you’ll figure it out,” I promise, leading her to the Jeep. I open her door and wait for her to slip inside before shutting it.