by Charli Webb
Keith screams at me. But I can’t hear him over the ringing in my ears. Mom is lying on the dirty, grey carpet. There’s blood everywhere. It’s leaking out of a quarter-sized hole between her blank, staring eyes. Pouring out of the back of her head. Fanning out across the floor. Dripping down the wall.
The ringing in my ears fades. I hear sirens, getting closer, louder. Keith wraps my fingers around the gun. He jams the barrel under my chin. He’s going to kill me. He pulls the trigger.
Click.
Keith swears and opens the cylinder. It’s empty. Red and blue lights flash through the window. I should be relieved, but all I am is numb.
Chapter Eleven
Skylar
“Rowdy?”
He’s trembling. And as much as I’d like to believe it’s because the only thing between my breasts and his naked chest is a thin layer of cotton, but I don’t think he even knows I’m here.
I pat his cheek.
His gaze shifts, as if he’s searching for me, but can’t see me.
“What’s wrong? Rowdy. Please, look at me.”
“Skylar?” He’s dazed and confused, but at least he recognizes me.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing to me. Where’d you go?”
He blinks then rubs his eyes. “I just zoned out for a second.”
“It was more like ninety seconds and you were completely out of it. What’s going on?”
At first, I don’t think he’s going to answer me. When he does, it’s with a flat, emotionless tone of voice. “Involuntary recurrent memory.”
“That sounds serious. What is it?”
“Flashback.” He blinks again and shakes his head quickly, as if trying to fling water out of his hair. He seems more in control now. “And it’s potentially career ending so don’t mention it to anyone.”
“You’re okay, though, right?”
“Did I do anything weird?”
“Like what?”
“If you have to ask, that means I didn’t.” He smiles, but it looks more like a grimace.
“What triggered it?”
“Stress.”
“I shouldn’t have pressured you.”
He sighs. “I didn’t want you to know.”
“Why? Did you think I wouldn’t understand? That I would judge you?”
He shrugs. “I thought it was the reason you disappeared.”
His admission stabs me through the heart. I can’t believe he didn’t have more faith in me.
“When you didn’t return any of my calls, I got worried. At first, I thought Will and Lori were keeping us apart, but they were just as baffled about your sudden disappearance as I was.”
My chest aches as I imagine their concern. “What did they say?”
Rowdy’s lips twitch into a slight smile. “They quizzed me pretty hard about what happened between us that night.”
Blood rushes to my face. “What do you mean?”
“They thought you might have left because we had a big fight or something.”
“What did you tell them?”
“The truth.”
It’s hard to force the words past the lump in my throat. “You told them we had sex?”
Rowdy takes my hands and holds them next to his chest. “I didn’t want to. But you’d been gone for three days. No one could get in touch with you or your parents. I didn’t want to withhold any information that might help find you.”
I see his point, even if I don’t see how that particular detail could help anyone find me.
“I didn’t lose faith right away.” He weaves his fingers between mine. “In fact, I clung to every excuse I could think of no matter how ridiculous or far-fetched. When your Facebook and Twitter accounts were deleted, I assumed that your mom heard about what happened and didn’t want you anywhere near me. I hung on to the hope that it wasn’t your choice. I thought that once school started in the fall, you’d borrow a phone and call me. When that didn’t happen, I told myself that as soon as you were eighteen, you’d reach out to me.”
I lift his hands to my face and press his knuckles against my cheek.
He turns my hands over and kisses both palms. “I was upset when you didn’t call, but I rationalized my way past it. I told myself that even though you were eighteen, you were still in high school. Still living under your mom’s roof and her rules. I took a bus to San Diego and went to your old high school to try to find you. You weren’t there and none of your old friends knew where you’d gone.”
“You talked to my old friends?” The thought simultaneously warms my heart and intensifies the ache.
Rowdy smiles and nods. “I was surprised by how many of them recognized me. You never told me that you plastered the inside of your locker with my photos or kept a laminated picture of me in your purse and another one stuck in the sun visor of your car. I was practically a celebrity.”
My face is on fire. But hearing Rowdy’s deep, quiet chuckle is worth the embarrassment. “How many of my friends hit on you?”
“All of the girls and two of the guys.” He smiles, but it’s a sad, barely there, smile. “I turned them all down. I didn’t break any of my promises until after the funeral.”
My heart stops. I take a step back to give myself some breathing room. “Why then?”
“I ran out of excuses.” He shrugs. “You were nineteen. I couldn’t blame your absence on your mom anymore.”
“Is that when you started to hate me?”
“I never hated you.” Rowdy lifts my chin with his forefinger and ducks his head to capture my gaze. “I tried. Every day since the funeral, I tried to hate you. But it never worked. I could be angry with you, furious even, but hate you? Never.”
I’m melting into a puddle of Rowdy-adoring goo. I need to reestablish a few boundaries, before I forget how. I rock back on my heels.
Rowdy slides his palms down my arms, guiding my hands to his shoulders. He digs his fingers into my hips and pulls me against his body. Holy crap, he’s hard.
I instinctively lean into him. We’re both trembling.
I sway on my feet. “Can we sit down? I’m feeling a little lightheaded.”
He pulls back and searches my face. “Do you need your inhaler?”
“No. I’m just nervous.”
He chuckles. “Me too.”
“You’re nervous?”
“I haven’t done this in a long time.”
“That’s not what I heard.” I push away from him.
He catches my wrists, completely encircling them with his fingers. His voice deepens to a growl. “What have you heard?”
“That you’re with a different girl every night.” I stare into his eyes, daring him to lie to me.
“That’s a gross exaggeration.” He lets go of my hands and sits on the edge of the bed.
I sit beside him and put a hand on his knee. “I get that you felt betrayed. And I understand why you broke your promise to never make love to anyone but me. But I don’t understand—”
“I didn’t break that promise.”
“Don’t lie to me, Rowdy.” My heart aches. I hate that he sleeps around, but I can forgive him as long as he stops doing it and doesn’t lie about it. If he lies, we don’t have a chance.
“I’ve fucked more women than I can count, but you’re the only one I’ve ever made love to.”
I really shouldn’t find that obscene remark the least bit endearing. I bite my lip to keep from smiling. I can’t let him think for one second that I’m okay with his promiscuity. Because I most certainly am not.
“I’ve never kissed anyone but you, either.” His cheeks flush. I definitely find that endearing.
“You’re joking, right?”
“I don’t like kissing, so I don’t do it.” He cups my cheek. “If anyone has a problem with it, they can walk away.”
“Has anyone ever walked away?”
He quirks one side of his mouth up into a lopsid
ed grin then caresses my lower lip with his thumb. “Never.”
“That cocky attitude of yours is not the least bit sexy.” My shallow, rapid breathing and racing heart indicate otherwise. Who’s the liar now?
He brushes his lips across mine, barely touching them, softer than the stroke of a butterfly’s wing. He kisses my neck, right below my ear. “Did you seriously just use cocky and sexy in the same sentence?”
“I thought you didn’t like kissing.” I tilt my head, giving him better access to my throat.
“I lied.” He kisses a trail across my collarbone. “I don’t like kissing anyone but you.”
My eyelids flutter shut.
He brushes his lips across mine again. Once, twice, and then his mouth captures mine. His tongue sweeps across the seam of my lips.
I can’t refuse him. He tastes so good. A hint of cinnamon layered over something that is pure Rowdy. I search for an analogy so I can always remember it. His taste, his smell. God, I missed it. But how do you describe the taste of pure bliss?
He moves slowly, gently. So tenderly. His kiss is just as I remembered. It awakens something deep inside me. Something that has lain dormant for the past four years. A whole-body yearning that’s so intense it’s painful.
I love that he’s being careful with me, but I need more. I keep one hand over his heart and tangle the other in his hair. I pull his face closer and suck his lower lip into my mouth.
A primitive, animalistic sound rumbles deep inside his chest, vibrating against my palm. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth. No longer gentle, he’s claiming more than just my lips. I follow his lead as he establishes a seductive rhythm that promises so much more.
“God, Rowdy. What the fuck?”
We break apart, gasping. Anna is standing in the hall, just outside Boone’s bedroom door. What the fuck, indeed?
“Anna. What are you doing here?” Rowdy’s not nearly as upset about the interruption as he should be.
“Wade said you were spending the night here.”
“I am.”
Anna jams one fist on her hip and points at me. “With her?”
Blood rushes to my face, but I’m not embarrassed. I’m pissed. I’ve been waiting for this kiss for four years. “What we do is none of your business.”
Her nostrils flare as she shifts her attention to me. She lowers her voice but cranks up the intensity. “Rowdy Daletzki works with me. We make life and death decisions on a daily basis. If he’s doing something that jeopardizes his mental health, then yes, it is my business.”
“Calm down, Anna.” Rowdy sounds and looks exhausted. Why isn’t he putting this bitch in her place?
I stand up and fold my arms over my chest. “You need to leave.”
She ignores me and extends a hand towards Rowdy. “Come on, Cowboy. Let’s go home.”
“Cowboy?” She’s got a pet name for Rowdy? Might as well stab a hot poker through my chest.
He rolls his eyes. “A few years ago we got a call out for a mountain biker cornered by a bull. I was the first one on the scene. The ‘bull’ turned out to be a lost calf looking for his next meal. I slipped a prusik cord over his head and led him off the trail so the biker could continue his ride. And now everyone calls me Cowboy.”
I’m glad he emphasized everyone, making it clear that Cowboy is not Anna’s exclusive little term of endearment.
The bitch wiggles her fingers, impatiently. “Some of us have to work tomorrow. Let’s go.”
“What are you? His mother?” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, but the damage has already been done.
Rowdy’s fingers tighten around my hand. I squeeze back to keep him from crushing my bones.
“I’m sorry.” My voice is breathy. Barely audible.
“It’s okay.” Rowdy’s voice is just as hushed as mine. He clears his throat. “Go home, Anna.”
“After everything she’s put you through, you’re just going to forgive her?”
“I already have.”
My heart melts. I know we have a lot of issues to work through but those three little words just made everything a whole lot easier. How can I hold anything against Rowdy when he’s already forgiven me?
“So. You’re just going to pretend none of it matters?”
“I’m not pretending. The past doesn’t matter. And like Skylar’s already said, this is none of your business.” The slight edge in Rowdy’s voice is a clear warning.
A warning Anna ignores. “Where was she when you needed her the most? Gone. Who picked up the pieces after she disappeared? Me.”
I can hold my own in a cat fight, verbal as well as physical, but I know how much Rowdy hates confrontations. I’ll keep the claws in and let Anna prove what a bitch she is.
Her eyes soften as she gives Rowdy her full attention. They even sparkle with unshed tears. She’s obviously changing tactics. Her voice is soft with a slight tremble. “You haven’t had a meltdown in nine months. I don’t want to see you slide back into that dark place.”
“I told you. I’m fine.” Rowdy’s speaking through clenched teeth now. If I were Anna, I’d back the hell off.
“Please, Rowdy. Come home.”
She’s trying to make it sound as if they’re living together and not just housemates. I’m not buying it. Boone, Wade and Rowdy have all said there’s nothing going on between the two of them.
Rowdy shakes his head. “Skylar’s got some health issues that I’m monitoring tonight.”
“Asthma? Oh, please.” Anna rolls her eyes. “She’s just manipulating you.”
I’d like to manipulate her right out the window.
Rowdy narrows his eyes. “Are you questioning my diagnostic skills?”
“If you’re honestly worried about it, call Wade. He can babysit her.”
Rowdy crosses the room and puts his hands on her shoulders. He gently pushes her back into the hall. “Good night, Anna. Go home.”
She does a great imitation of a trout as Rowdy shuts the door in her face.
~***~
I wait until I hear the front door close before I speak. “Do you want to go back to my room?”
“Do you want me to?”
“I’m not asking you to have sex with me.”
“Oh-kaay.” Rowdy drags the word out, sounding confused.
“I don’t want to mislead you. We have a lot of unfinished business to discuss and I’d rather not be disturbed when Boone comes to bed. That kiss was amazing and I’d like to do it again, but you aren’t getting laid tonight.”
Rowdy frowns then grabs a light blue t-shirt out of one of Boone’s drawers and tugs it on over his head. The fabric strains across his chest, shoulders and biceps.
I hate that he covered up all that glorious skin and sculpted muscle, but it’s a good thing. I don’t trust myself to stick with my self-imposed rule of no sex until I’m sure I can trust him. If there was some way to know that he’d be able to stop whoring around and be faithful to one woman—to me—I’d jump his gorgeous bones right now.
He tugs on the hem of the t-shirt, but a good two inches of his stomach is still exposed between it and the waistband of his sweatpants. “Maybe we should wait until tomorrow to continue this conversation.”
I don’t want to wait. I want to get it all out in the open and deal with it. “I’m not going to be able to sleep.”
“Me neither.” He bites his lip then grins at me. “Let’s go to the tree house.”
I’m not sure that’s any safer than a bedroom. It’s where we made love for the first, and only, time. I feel as if I’m sixteen again. Blissfully naive and desperately in love. “Okay.”
I grab the blankets off my bed and head for the patio door. It’s much cooler outside. The crickets’ song is drowned out by the sound of rushing water. Uncle Will was a structural engineer and he used every bit of his skill to build the tree house. I never really appreciated the architectural beauty of our alpine retreat until now. It doesn’t look like much from the ground
, which is sort of the point, I guess. It looks like part of the landscape. Instead of just one tree, it’s hung from several blue spruce evergreens, nestled in a grove of aspens right next to South Boulder Creek. With a little maintenance, and barring any catastrophic natural disasters, it should last for generations. The rope ladder, however, should probably be replaced sooner rather than later. I pick up a splinter as I crawl inside. The floor needs to be sanded and refinished. All the wood surfaces need to be sealed. Seeing it in such disrepair saddens me. As soon as I get a little extra money, I’ll fix it up.
It probably shouldn’t be my first priority. Boone’s obviously having a hard time maintaining the house and yard. But the tree house is my all-time favorite place on the planet. It’s private, cozy and safe but sways with the movement of the trees. Especially when someone jumps on the rope bridges connecting the separate platforms. I smile as I remember how freaked out Boone got whenever Rowdy and I would team up to shake the trees.
Some of my best memories revolve around this place. But all of them combined don’t equal the single, mind-blowing, life-changing memory that marked the end of my childhood.
I move over to give Rowdy room to hoist his large frame inside.
“So… Rowdy…” My cheeks are on fire. I’m not shy by nature, but Rowdy’s always been able to stir up feelings hidden deep inside me that no one else can touch.
He leans against the opposite wall and stretches his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles. His bare feet are level with my knees. He laces his fingers behind his head and grins at me. “So… Skylar?”
He’s enjoying my discomfort a little too much. “Why do you sleep with so many different women?”
He presses his lips together for a few seconds then purses them as he exhales. “Don’t get pissed off, but why do you think that’s any of your business?”
All of a sudden, it’s hard to breathe again. Damn asthma. Damn Rowdy.
He glances at his watch then squats in front of me. “Are you okay?”
“Are you late for an appointment or something?”
