Page 23 of Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are

NINE

SKYLER

As I stepped out of the shower the following morning, there was a knock on my window.

With the towel wrapped around my chest, I stopped brushing my fingers through my hair and looked at the closed curtains. It was Saturday morning, and we were heading to the cabin after lunch for the Halloween party Harper had organized. Evelyn would be here any moment now to help me pick out what to wear tonight. Not that I cared, but she did.

The knock sounded again, causing my heart to jump into my throat. I walked up to the window and slid the curtains aside. Dustin, soaked with rain, had his hand posed to knock again.

Clutching the towel to my chest, I opened the window one-handed and pushed it open. “What are you doing here, Dustin?”

He climbed in, bringing with him the earthy fragrance of wet grass, rain, and an incoming storm. Shaking out his damp hair, Dustin raked his long fingers through the strands. He paused, eyes falling down my body and back.

I clutched the towel tighter as my cheeks flamed. “Why didn’t you use the front door?”

“Your father is asleep on the swinging chair on the porch, with a shotgun in his hands.”

“Oh, fuck…” My father went through spells of paranoia. I’d have to sneak through the window unless I wanted to risk setting him off.

Dustin’s eyes were back on my body, roaming over the drops of water on my chest. I walked up to the chest of drawers and pulled out a white tee and a pair of jeans—anything to cover up with until Evelyn arrived.

Waving a hand toward the bathroom, I cleared my throat. “I’m gonna get dressed.”

Dustin nodded, flopping onto my bed.

After dressing in the bathroom and combing my hair, I walked back out, unsure why he was here, in my bedroom.

Dustin lay sprawled on my bed, staring up at the ceiling with his fingers interlinked on his chest. He wore his signature red cap—discarded beside him on my bed—a camouflage tee, and ripped black jeans. He’d been on the sunbeds recently, if the tan on his muscled arms was anything to go by. He looked good.

His head rolled on the pillow and his blue gaze landed on mine. A soft smile pulled at his lips. “Are you scared of me?”

“Why would I be scared of you?” I asked, my hand moving over the smooth surface of the desk, the rain spattering against the window. I focused on it while reading the title of a book on top of the keyboard. Psychosis by Tony Marturano.

“Well, you’re over there.”

Turning around, I looked at him on the bed, his hand dangling over his knee, the tanned skin visible beneath the rips in his jeans.

Head tilted to the side, he followed me with his gaze as I slowly approached the bed.

“I’m not scared of you.” Maybe I was…a little, or perhaps I was scared of myself. I’d break his heart if I stepped too close.

“Sit down,” he said when I was within reaching distance, seizing my hand. His warm fingers traced my wrist before he hooked them between my digits and pulled me close. My knees bumped up against the mattress and a sharp breath slipped from my lips. I looked over at the window, paranoid, in case Nate was out there somewhere in the pouring rain.

Dustin tugged and I fell onto the bed. “I’m not gonna bite.”

Reluctantly, I climbed on and sat down beside him. It was awkward at best. Staring at the window and watching the raindrops race down the glass, I stayed silent.

“What can I do to fix things between us? I don’t want us to be like this when we’re away tonight.”

I looked at him, scanning his handsome face, reading the concern in his blue eyes. “What do you want from me, Dustin?”

“I want you to look at me how you look at Nate.”

“What?” I asked, my eyes widening.

Dustin wet his lips as he stroked his fingers over the back of my hand on the mattress. “When he died, I thought you’d finally see me… I thought I had a chance, but then he returned from the dead.” Covering my hand with his, he squeezed. “He’s a dick, Skyler.”

“I don’t look at him in any way. You heard the gossip; I punched him.”

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