by Jess Bryant
“Of course I heard! The question is why didn’t I hear it from you? How could you not call? You know you’re supposed to call when you get sick!”
She sighed and moved out of the doorway when her mother stormed inside, “It wasn’t a big deal, Mom.”
“Of course it’s a big deal! It’s always a big deal! You know your heart is weak and being ill takes its toll on your entire system.”
Skylar bit her lip to keep from raising her voice. She hated that line of this age old argument. Her heart wasn’t weak damn it! Yes, she had been sick when she was a child but the doctor’s had fixed it. The surgeons had fixed her. Other than the scar that would forever mark her chest, there were no lingering effects from her heart condition.
It wasn’t going to come back. She knew that. Her parents knew that. Yes, there were things that could make her heart palpitate. Undo stress wasn’t good for it and having this conversation for the billionth time was definitely that.
And, okay, the doctors had told her that being sick might put strain on her heart as well but she hadn’t really been sick since she got out of the hospital over a decade ago. She was careful. She didn’t go outside with wet hair. She didn’t make unnecessary trips to the hospital or surround herself with sick people. She’d eaten some bad seafood. Her heart had never been in any real danger and neither had she.
“It was food poisoning. It’s passed now and my heart is fine.”
“Honey, I love you and I only want to keep you safe. Did you see a doctor? Tell me you called the doctor.”
“I didn’t need the doctor, Mom.” Her voice rose despite her best efforts, “I told you it was nothing. I’m fine now. Do you see me standing in front of you? I’m dressed and I’m going to work. I’m fine!”
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.” She smiled when her mother rolled her eyes, certain she was the only person in the world with a mom that rolled her eyes at her children, “I’m fine just, take it from me, don’t get sushi at the market.”
Her mother smiled at her joke and some of the tension left her face. Skylar hated to admit it, but when her mother smiled, they looked so much alike it was disturbing. Same blonde hair and blue eyes and sharp features, and since her mom had killer genetics they looked like they could be sisters. She chose not to freak out about that fact like some girls would, instead she liked to remember that when she aged she’d still look years younger than she should.
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yes Mom.”
“Your father and I were very worried.”
“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t call because I didn’t want to worry you over nothing.”
“Darling, you’re our daughter, we worry no matter what. Do you see these gray hairs? That’s all you.”
“Very funny.” She smirked when her mother attempted a joke of her own.
There wasn’t a single gray hair on Melanie Holland’s head. If, God forbid, there had been, she would have booked an appointment at the Red Door Salon immediately. Skylar didn’t take offense that her own mother would never let her touch her perfectly coifed and highlighted hair. Her mother had been relocated from her beloved Tulsa to this tiny little dust town when she fell in love with Skylar’s father but no matter how many years or changes they made, you could take the girl out of the city but not the city out of the girl.
She knew her mom was proud of her. She did well with her salon. But she figured the day the woman let her cut or color her hair, hell would freeze over.
“Next time you’re sick, call us and let us know. Please? I don’t like finding out at the market that my own daughter is sick from a third party.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Skylar furrowed her brow, “Who told you anyway? Owen and Jem are out of town.”
“Trey told me.”
“Oh…” She fidgeted at the mention of her boyfriend.
She’d forgotten about him. Again. Because she was a terrible person.
Trey knew she was sick. She’d told him but only because he’d wanted them to go out when he called originally. If he hadn’t wanted to make plans, she wouldn’t have told him either. She didn’t like being sick and she didn’t like talking about being sick. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know because she hadn’t wanted anyone to come barging in, trying to take care of her.
Except Colt.
She mentally bitch slapped herself for that wayward thought. No, she hadn’t minded Colt showing up at all. He’d forced his way in, uninvited, and she hadn’t fought him at all. Not like she should have.
“You saw Trey today?” She cleared her throat.
“Yes, at the market. He was doing some shopping this morning and we ran into each other.” Her mother smiled again, “That boy is so sweet. He carried my bags to the car for me and everything.”
“He’s a really nice guy.” She agreed wholeheartedly.
“When you first told me you were dating one of your brother’s friends, I worried. Those boys that work on the rigs aren’t always the most reliable, always on the road, gone for long periods of time, but he’s one of the good ones. He seems to care about you a lot, was worried he hadn’t heard from you. I hope things are going well between you two. They are, aren’t they?”
Her throat felt tight so she nodded, “Uh, yeah, sure.”
“Good. That’s good.” Her mother gave a giggling laugh, “Because I invited him to dinner tomorrow.”
She gaped at her mother, “You invited him to Sunday dinner?”
They had established Sunday dinners when Owen first moved out of the house. Her older brother had taken a job with their father’s oil company working on rigs and been gone for weeks at a time. Their mother had made Sunday dinner with the family a requirement every week he was in town and it had stuck.
If they were having Sunday dinner that meant Owen was going to be home from his extra assignment this weekend which was good, because she missed her brother, but also bad because he and Trey were practically inseparable when they were on the same schedule. They’d made fast friends on the rig and Owen had dragged the guy home with him because he didn’t have anywhere else to go on leave. That was how she’d met Trey and now that she had made the decision to break up with him she realized how stupid it had been of her to get involved with her brothers friend in the first place.
Owen loved Trey like a brother. Her parents adored him. And when she broke up with him, they were all going to be upset, probably even more so than she and Trey were going to be.
“Yes, is that a problem?”
“No, of course not, I just haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet so I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do.” Her mother smiled as if she’d just given Skylar a big, fat present instead of something to dread. “And you need to call that boy back, darling. He was worried about you.”
“I know. I will.” She sighed and glanced at the clock, “I’m glad you stopped by but I have to get to work, Mom. I’m running late as it is and since I was out yesterday, I have no idea what’s on the schedule. I need to get going.”
“Oh, of course…” Melanie paused and looked around, “Why don’t I stick around for a little bit, clean up for you? You were sick and…”
“Out, Mom! Now!” She ushered her towards the door.
She had a lot in common with her mother but cleaning habits weren’t one of them. She was not OCD. She didn’t move the furniture every time she vacuumed. And if she left her mother in her apartment unsupervised, she might come back to find her suffering from heart palpitations after one glimpse into the bathroom.
“Okay, okay, fine. I’m going.”
“Bye Mom. See you tomorrow.”
“Love you darling.”
“Love you too.” She waved as her mother got into her expensive BMW.
Like the woman herself, it looked out of place here in the run-down apartment complex where Skylar lived. She knew her parents didn’t like her renting an apartment
here. They’d offered multiple times to buy her a place if she didn’t want to move back home but she’d refused. It was part of her independence to pay for her own place and she liked her apartment.
It was hers.
Sometimes the water heater kicked off after only five minutes in the shower, but that was okay. The pipes creaked like they were being abused whenever she ran the dishwasher. The appliances were put in about a decade before she was born and the carpet was a terrible, orangey brown color, but she’d made it her own.
She’d painted the walls herself. She’d bought rugs to cover the awful carpet. She had lamps to help with lighting. With her knick-knacks and throw pillows, the bleak apartment took on a decidedly girly feel that was completely hers.
And it had the added benefit of being right next door to her favorite Bomar boy.
Ugh, she just couldn’t go five minutes without thinking about him could she? She shot a look at his door but it was shut and the lights were off. His truck was gone, hinting he’d already left for work and she tried not to let it get her down that she hadn’t heard from him this morning. It wasn’t as if last night had been a date.
She hadn’t heard from Trey either but apparently she had a date set up with him courtesy of her mother. She groaned and banged her head against the steering wheel of her car. Trey, her parents adored. Colt, they would hate.
Colt was a Bomar and they would dislike him on principle alone. She didn’t like to think that her parents were snobs but everyone in this town thought they were better than the Bomars. They were criminals and thugs and the fact that Colt was neither wouldn’t mean anything to her parents.
He owned the tattoo parlor. That made him a successful business owner. But all her parents would hear was tattoos and then they’d put together that he was the one that had inked her skin and oh, how they hated her tattoos.
They said they were cheap, which showed just how little they knew about the art form. They wanted to keep her their perfect, pristine, little girl and the more ink she added to her skin, the harder it was to reconcile that image of her with the person she truly was. That was one of the reasons she’d gotten her very first tattoo but they were never going to understand that.
They barely understood her and Colt wouldn’t stand a chance.
Not that it mattered. It didn’t matter what her parents thought of Colt because much like her tattoos, their opinion didn’t change what she wanted. She wanted him. If she was honest with herself, she had for a long time. And after last night, she was done letting him push her away. First things first she was going to stop by his shop and thank him for taking care of her last night and then… who knows.
Today, the sky really did seem like the limit.
Chapter Five
He was having a shitty fucking day. When he’d opened his eyes this morning, he’d known that he was in hell. Every moment since had only confirmed it. He was tired, exhausted physically and emotionally. He was sore, his body aching with every single movement. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his entire family seemed hell bent on making it worse.
Colt stared at his reflection in the mirror over his work station and assessed the damage again. His nose had been broken for what must be the twentieth time in his godawful life. Both of his eyes were bruised from the swelling and sadly his face didn’t show the worst of the damage.
His ribs were bruised and he wouldn’t have been surprised at all to find that at least one of them was cracked. It wasn’t as if he could go to a doctor so he’d patched himself up as best he could last night, taken some painkillers and passed out with the hope that things wouldn’t look so bad in the morning. Of course, he should have outgrown a silly emotion like hope years ago because in the bright light of day, things only looked worse.
Lincoln was pissed at him. Oh, his cousin had dragged his ass up and gotten him home. He’d been kind enough to set his nose for him, though the bastard probably would have gone a little easier on that task if he hadn’t been cursing him at the time. He’d saved the threats for after Colt had slept off the worst of the pain and exhaustion but they’d been coming in steadily all morning.
He didn’t even blame him.
Colt had fucked up royally. He’d stepped into the cage last night without his head on straight. He’d gone in there knowing full well that he wasn’t prepared for a fight and yet he’d had no choice. He couldn’t back out so the fight had gone on and he’d gotten his ass absolutely handed to him.
He hadn’t lost but that didn’t matter to Lincoln. He’d managed to pull it together at the last minute. He got a lucky break, caught the guy in the knee, taking him to the ground and the stinger meant he couldn’t put pressure on the leg. Colt had used his slight weight advantage to pin him and eventually gotten the tap out he needed. But it hadn’t gone down the way Lincoln wanted so it wasn’t a victory.
His opponent was supposed to go down in the second, hard. Colt was supposed to have ended it hard and fast. One round of dancing, showing off for the crowd, one round to get the last minute bets placed, and then Lincoln had told him to end it. Quick and painless, knock the guy out so they could take their money and go home.
All of that should have been fully within his abilities but he hadn’t been queued up for a fight. He’d spent the night cuddling with a cute girl instead of preparing himself and he’d gone in cold. He hadn’t been quick on his feet and his brain had been slow to adjust. He’d taken a beating before his pent-up rage finally let loose and his instincts kicked in.
Six rounds. He’d barely survived six rounds. He’d dragged his ass all over that cage to make it six rounds. He had the broken bones to show for his effort but Lincoln didn’t care about that either.
Colt had won the fight but he’d lost something much more important. Whatever small modicum of respect his cousin had for him was gone after last night. He hadn’t followed orders. He hadn’t played his part like a good little solider and he would pay. Lincoln had made that completely clear in his messages this morning.
This fight hadn’t counted against Colt’s debt. He’d gotten his ass kicked and it hadn’t even counted because Lincoln had bet on him to win in two and he hadn’t. Lincoln had lost money so Colt would owe even more now. That was the way of things and there was no family discount.
So yeah, his day had started off as shit and it had only gotten worse when he got to the shop.
Despite his multiple warnings, Bentley had gotten into his ink last night. He’d tried to clean up after himself but he had no idea what the hell he was doing which was why Colt had told him not to use the machine in the first place. His cousin had left ink in the line and it had dried up overnight. The entire setup would have to be replaced which would cost him money and since Bentley was Lincoln’s brother he couldn’t even force the bastard to cover it.
After cleaning up his cousin’s mess, Colt had gotten more family drama courtesy of his older brother. Remy had stopped by under the guise of a friendly chat but if there was one thing he and his big bro had in common it was that they both sucked at beating around the bush. Direct and to be point was the Bomar way, for better or worse, so he wasn’t surprised in the least when Remy dropped the bullshit after only five minutes and broached the real reason he was there.
He wanted to join the shop. Work for Colt. He needed a job and he expected his little brother to hand him one.
Colt scrubbed his face and only remembered the bruises when pain followed the movement. He didn’t need this shit. Not today. He had enough to deal with facing off against Lincoln, handling Bentley and keeping Cash off his ass. He didn’t need to add another family member to his list of problems, least of all the long lost brother he had about a billion issues with already.
Remington Bomar was five years older than Colt and Cash. He’d been Decker’s favorite son, or to hear their father tell it, his only son. And despite what the rumors said about the twins, nobody had ever doubted for a second that Remy was that bastard’s spawn. He looked just like him and
he’d gotten more than a few of his behavioral issues.
Even though Decker and Chrissy had doted on Remy and alternately ignored and abused Colt and Cash, he’d been a good big brother. He’d protected them from Decker’s fists. He’d made sure they ate when Chrissy was too stoned to know she even had sons. But all of that had ended the week he turned eighteen.
Remy had hitched a ride to the Army recruitment office in Falls Lake the day after his birthday. He’d signed up, gotten a haircut and never looked back. He’d come home long enough to tell them he was leaving, that he couldn’t stay and deal with the lies and bullshit any longer, and then he’d left.
He’d never come back. Not once. Not for an entire decade.
Colt and Cash had been thirteen at the time. They’d dealt with five more years of abuse in that house with nobody to protect them. They’d been too young and too small to defend themselves at the time and he would never forgive Remy for abandoning them when they needed him most.
Just like he would never forgive him for staying gone. For only calling to check on them when he was drunk and feeling lonely. For all of the excuses that weren’t explanations.
Remy had only come back into their life a couple of weeks ago and though that had been his call, he’d regretted it ever since. At the time, it was the only choice he’d had. Jemma had been in trouble and she’d trusted him to find a solution to her problem without involving Cash and getting him in trouble. Since the ex that had been threatening her was in Houston and he’d recently learned Remy was in the same city, he’d made the necessary call.
It had never been his intention to make Remy think he would be welcomed home with open arms if he helped them. Apparently something had gotten lost in translation though because his big brother had showed up on his doorstep days later. Neither he nor Cash had been all that welcoming yet Remy had stayed for reasons neither of them could figure out.
Until now.
A job. Colt almost laughed. That was the last thing he’d expected. A request for money or help disposing of a body would have been more in line with the Bomar way. He’d have been better equipped to deal with either of those than this.
