by Alex Rosa
“You need to come home. It’s Skyler. Her . . . uh, ex-boyfriend showed up at your house. I hope this makes sense. The police are here. She’s really shaken up.”
My feet are already sprinting across the sound stage and out the door to my car in the parking lot. I’m frantic. Everything he’s said is bad, bad, bad.
“Is she okay?”
Another pause, and I want to fucking destroy something. “She’ll be fine. She’s been a bit roughed up, but she’s okay now. She’s just really upset.”
His tone is hard, but his accent curls around every word. He cares. He cares a lot. That much is certain. I don’t know whether to be thankful or furious.
I clench my eyes shut as I slam the driver-side door closed the moment I’m inside. “Keep her safe for me. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Of course. I’ll let her know you’re on your way.”
When he hangs up, I release the breath I’m holding. At least he knows his place. He needs to tell her I’m coming home to her, and that I want nothing but to be the one to keep her safe.
What was that asshole, Jason, doing at my house? What the fuck did he do to Skyler? If she has even the hint of a bruise, I’m going to go ballistic.
***
Do the police cars in front of my house make this situation more real or surreal? I’m not sure. There isn’t room for my car in the driveway with them there. I park in front and note Gio’s shiny Audi parked haphazardly and diagonally in the spot next to me, suggesting he might have thrown his car into park and flung himself out of it to take care of a chaos I can’t wrap my head around.
Skyler. I need to find Skyler.
My hands are constant clenched fists as I walk up the driveway. My eyes get distracted by movement, and I turn to my right to see Jason in the backseat of the police cruiser, his arms constricted behind his back.
The rat bastard looks just like I remember him. Pathetic. I remember his pleading when Skyler was just a dream of mine. I remember her fear then as she scurried inside, and I dealt with him. I remember yanking him up by a balled fist of fabric from his shirt as I probed him with questions and accusations months ago on this same doorstep. I remember him getting snarky, and turning into a coward when I threatened him. At the time, I didn’t understand the severity of the situation, and I let him go after he promised to leave and never come back. If I knew then what I know now, I would have done some serious damage.
At the thought, my strides hesitate just a second, debating on if I should attempt the thrashing I so desperately want to inflict. When his beady eyes lift to catch mine, he immediately looks away in apparent shame. Damn right.
I’ve never wanted to destroy something so badly in my entire life.
I force myself to look away as I approach my front door, which sits wide open. I can hear two voices I don’t recognize as I enter.
Cops. Both men stand looming over Skyler who’s trembling in the arms of Gio as they sit on the couch. The primal caveman in me wants to rip Gio to shreds, too, but I can’t get over at how small and frightened Skyler looks curled in on herself in his arms. It drives me into madness.
Gio sees me first, turning his wide, probing eyes to me. He doesn’t flinch, but continues his wide strokes against Skyler’s back. She’s speaking, maybe answering the police officers’ questions, but her eyes are clenched closed as tightly as my fists.
“Blake,” Gio whispers.
Skyler’s eyes fly open.
I want to run to her. I want to hug her, hold her, kiss her.
Though, my legs don’t want to run. My steps are surprisingly cautious as I take it all in, avoiding any sort of misstep. I’ve never been so hyper-attuned to someone. My only thought is I don’t want to rattle Skyler more than she already is, even if she’s eyeing me like a wild animal; her endless-ocean eyes are bloodshot from tears, but wide with need.
Both officers turn to me, nodding their hello. One of them is tall and dark, his eyes scrutinizing, but kind. While the other is a stout, graying man with an overly concerned look.
“You the boyfriend?” the taller one asks.
I nod, and extend my hand to both men, shaking theirs firmly.
Skyler is slowly peeling herself away from Gio, but I can see Gio just as carefully watching her, and even hesitant about letting her go. I want to hate him so fucking much, and I do. However, Skyler has that effect on people. You want to like her. You want to protect her. Her genius is just as inviting as her smile and eyes, but they hold a sincere naïveté that you can’t help but adore, which keeps men like me . . . and Gio, at her whim, whether she knows it or not. That’s if he sees what I see, which I think he does.
What kills me the most is she’s trying to show me she’s strong as she desperately tries to straighten her posture, but she doesn’t seem to have the energy to stand, and I wouldn’t ask her to try. Her trembles still riddle her body, most evident at her elbows and knees. She’s trying to wipe the fear and exhaustion from her face, but I want her to go back to lying down. I want to tell her everything’s going to be okay.
“I think we’ve got all the statements we need. Here’s our card if you need to get ahold of us.” The two officers walk away from the living room, and the air feels so thick and humid with anguish I can’t stop the rippling tension in my muscles from spreading as I follow, grabbing the card from the cop. I nod my head in the direction of Gio to signal him to stay at Skyler’s side, and it kills me that I haven’t touched her yet. I, myself, am starting to feel like a caged beast.
I walk the officers to the front door as they continue, “Skyler has given me your cell phone number, and hers, Giovanni’s, and her brother’s, if anything else comes up. Are you aware of the restraining order that was placed against Jason Vasquez?”
“Yes, I knew about it. Did she tell you he appeared here a couple months ago?”
Maybe I shouldn’t have divulged that, but when it comes to Skyler’s safety, I’m willing to let her get mad at me if it helps the cops take things more seriously.
They both nod. “Yes, and when he approached her in the street a couple weeks ago, too.”
My stomach plummets with the gravity of the information. Why didn’t she tell me Jason showed up again? Bang. It feels like a jab to my well-being. However, I nod like I already know. “Great,” I reply, except everything is anything but great. My eyes shoot over the taller cop’s shoulder at Jason, who watches from inside of the police cruiser. He’s squinting and scrutinizing us obviously talking about him. Prick.
Was there a moment weeks ago that Skyler was in as much danger as she was in tonight? I know she doesn’t like to worry me, but I wonder if this could’ve been avoided if she’d spoken up. The thought kills me.
I tell myself to hit the gym in the morning in order to work out this aggression that’s building fast and furiously inside me.
I have this sudden urge to throw open that police-car door and get violent, just to release this building anger, but instead I swallow it down and ask, “What’s going to happen to him?” I nudge my chin in the asshole’s direction, and I’m surprised I’m able to achieve this even keel when I want to commit a felony and rip the guy’s head off.
“Jail, sir. No bail, in violation of a strict restraining order. We’ll schedule him for a court date and go from there.”
I can’t imagine them clearing him with this huge amount of evidence. I want to ask the two cops for details, but I’d rather just ask Skyler.
“Good. Feel free to call Skyler if you have any updates, but I’d also like to add that I don’t know how she is emotionally, so if you feel so inclined, I’d also prefer you call me instead, if you can. I just . . . I just don’t know how she’s doing. She doesn’t look good.”
I’m babbling. The police don’t care.
The taller one’s eyes soften in understanding, and it gives me hope, but a ti
ght, regretful crook appears on his lips. “Unfortunately sir, legally we can only call the young lady, or her brother, since he’s family and the one who facilitated the restraining order in the first place.”
I nod for the umpteenth time, my jaw rigid. I understand, sure, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“Take good care of her tonight, she needs some TLC, sir.” The compassion from the stumpier man throws me, and I give him a small smile even though my arms are tightly crossed over my chest.
“I will no doubt take care of her. Thank you for taking care of this, officers.”
They both tip their heads in recognition, and then go on their way.
As I turn back inside I’m not willing to give Jason another glance, because he isn’t worth it. Maybe that’s Skyler’s reasoning. Maybe to her Jason isn’t worth her time or worth mentioning. Maybe she thought he would just go away. I grit my teeth at the thought. She’s smarter than this.
When I turn around, Gio is already a few feet away, running his hands through his dark hair as he approaches me. His eyes are tired with worry, and he can’t help himself as he turns back to look at Skyler once more. He looks compelled to fling himself back to her on the couch, but he rights himself seconds later as he finishes his journey to me.
I have to say it. I have to.
“Thanks for being here, Gio.”
He nods, and lifts his chin to the door, telling me he wants to talk outside.
I follow him out, and I notice the cruisers have already vanished. It isn’t until the front door shuts behind us that he speaks.
“She needs you,” he says.
I don’t know why this has me feeling relieved, but it does. It also has me realizing that I don’t want her alone inside. I need her in my arms. I need to tell her she’s safe. I don’t know who to blame, but God dammit, I want to blame someone, and the guilt building in my core is the worst.
He continues, rubbing at the back of his neck, suddenly looking more shook-up than I would expect. “I just wanted to explain the situation a bit, but I’ll be brief. She did incredible today at the photo shoot, Blake, she’s a real natural.” He clears his throat as if catching himself, but I ignore it as he goes on. “I dropped her off a little over an hour ago. Everything was fine. She waved me off, and I left. The only reason I came back was because she left the dress I gave her in my car.” This time he flashes me a smile of admiration. “She picked a dress out for your event, and she was really excited to wear it for you, so I knew I had to get it back to her. I might have been gone ten minutes, at most. When I pulled back up your street she was on the ground, curled up with this man looming over her, and I watched him—” His words get choked off as he rubs over his face, and my guts writhe with the pain I see flit over his features. “He kicked her, Blake. Hard. Next thing I know, I parked, ran toward her, and got that guy under control. I don’t know the details. She hasn’t talked much. She called the police from her cell phone. I held him until they got there.”
Bile rises in my throat as anger, fiery hot, seethes through my veins. My hands are back into clenched fists as I listen.
“He thrashed against my hold, and just so you know, I threw a punch in there for good measure—”
I have to say it so I take the moment to interrupt, “He fucking deserves more than just a punch!”
He manages a tight chuckle. “Cops were here in five minutes. I’ve just been holding her inside as she cried. She didn’t want to talk, and I didn’t make her. Like I said before, she’s really shaken up. You might want to check her body for,” he gulps, “bruises, maybe. I didn’t check her over for any marks or anything, but I think I noticed a scrape on her arm.”
My blood is at a boiling point, but I also want to shout at the top of my lungs, fury coursing through me. Life is unfair, and Skyler doesn’t deserve this.
If only I was around . . .
“Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. You’d better go inside.”
He doesn’t ask for more, or even expect a response. He’s almost nervous, and I’ve never known this guy to have a nervous bone in his body. Granted, this would rattle anyone.
He’s already heading toward his car as I shout, “Gio!”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for taking care of her, and showing up. I’m eternally grateful for that. I’ll—we’ll never forget it. She’s okay because of you.”
His chest deflates. “Of course. Also, don’t beat yourself up over this either. It’s no one’s fault. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Go take care of her, Blake.”
I don’t hesitate. I don’t say good-bye. I allow my body to act on its primal need. I sprint back inside, and Skyler is sitting perched on the edge of the couch. The moment she sees me enter she is springing herself forward with her last ounce of panicked strength.
“Skyler, just sit—”
My words are cut off with the force of her arms that fling themselves around me. She suddenly feels small, near frail; her arms stringy, but vise-tight, as they squeeze me close. It’s almost hard to breathe, but I don’t care.
I wrap my arms around her and lift her feet off the ground. Instinctively, she wraps her legs around my hips, and buries her head in my neck. Her trembling picks back up, and it kills me.
She’s crying.
“Skyler . . .” I soothe, rubbing my hands over her back. I don’t know how to make this better. She’s clinging to me for dear life. I can feel her pain and fear within her grip. “Tell me what you need.”
She heaves in a deep, choppy breath, and I haven’t had the time to really look into her eyes to diagnose her mood, her thoughts, her being. Her stare is what gives me that little insight that keeps my feet planted. Instead, I just hold her. It’s all I can do.
“I need you,” she breathes out through her tears. “Only you.” I feel the gentle squeezing of my body against hers before she adds, “Take a shower with me.”
I don’t know why I want to fight her. I’d rather lay her in my bed and hold her close, but she cuts me off before I can refuse, as if sensing it. “I need you to wash the feeling of him off me. I can’t stand it.” Her last words come off as a stutter, and I would never argue with that reasoning. I’d do anything for her. It pains me that I wasn’t here to rescue her, but whatever she needs now, I’d give ten times over and forever.
I stride toward the bathroom, and once I’m inside, I kick the door closed behind me, setting Skyler on the counter. She reluctantly releases me as she pulls in a sniffle.
I perch myself between her legs, reaching for her face, in need to read her. I cup my hands around her jaw, lifting her chin to mine. Her eyes are still wild and lost; red surrounds the crystal of her irises, and it makes my heart ache.
Her eyes search mine, begging, and I do the only thing that I can with all my heart.
I press my lips to hers gently, caressing their soft plumpness that only occurs so dramatically when she cries. She hums into my mouth as if I’m her first drink of water after days of wandering a desert. It has me hating my work schedule and everything that has kept me away from her. Her lips are hungry for comfort, and I meet her every stroke. I nibble on her bottom lip before pulling away.
Carefully watching her, I lean back to turn on the shower. She’s quiet. Her shallow breaths are the only sounds I can hear bouncing off the tiled walls before the shower turns on, and I make sure to make it comfortably hot. I want this night to be singed off our skin. I want these memories scrubbed and washed away. First, with the simmering water, and then with my lips. I won’t let Skye feel this way. She doesn’t deserve it. No one deserves it.
When I resume my staring, and her eyes bore into mine, my mind tries to process the terror that must’ve ensued behind those telling icebergs.
She’s so strong and resilient, but there’s something about her ex that breaks her at the core, fracturing t
he foundation of her being, and that’s something I won’t ever completely understand. I hate that someone, or something, so awful could have such control over someone who works so hard at being good.
I reach for her face again, and she all too willingly accepts. She’s eerily calm and still as her eyes watch me carefully. I know she isn’t scared of me, but she’s more cautious than I’ve ever seen her. Her eyes diligently explore the lines of my face, as if soaking me in.
I press my lips to hers, wanting my Skye to return. I want her to tell me I’m a jerk, or arrogant, or that I’m the Zoolander of this generation. I love it when she tries to rile me up and tease me. Right now, she’s mute, and it has me wanting to rip that guy Jason to shreds all over again.
“I love you, Skye,” I whisper. “You’re safe. You’re safe.”
She nods in my hands. She knows. Her right hand lifts up to my face, her fingertips carefully dragging up over my chin and combing through my hair as if cherishing me just as much as I cherish her.
I place a kiss on her chin, her jaw, and the soft spot below her ear that elicits the reflexive shiver I adore.
The bathroom is quickly filling with steam, and I need her scrubbed of the night and in my arms. It’s my only mission now.
I let go of her face, and reach for her tank top. She flinches before I reach the hem. Anger burns through my veins again.
I shake my head, lifting the fabric gently, and her sharp exhale as she raises her arms is like a vise grip on my chest. I toss her shirt aside and see faint blotches of purple over the left side of her ribcage, hinting at the beginning of a large bruise. My eyes are glued to her marked, tan skin, but when I hear a sniffle I’m back to her in an instant.
I kiss the tip of her nose, and then her salty lips where her tears have spilled over. I kiss her hard, and possessively. I want her to feel loved, and it doesn’t take long for her lips to coax mine open, tasting me as she dips her tongue into my mouth. Her releasing hum is all the more gratifying. I slow our lips and pull away to drag my mouth down her neck, and to her collarbone. I can feel her limbs slowly going languid, which is exactly what I want. I kiss down her chest, over the curves of her breasts, until finally I pepper kisses over the bruises that mark her.
