Page 20 of Protecting Her Secrets

A cell phone ringing interrupts my perusal. I look over my shoulder to see Skylar dash for her purse and pull out her phone. Whatever she sees on the screen has her biting at her lip and furrowing her brows.

“Can I use your guest room to take this?” she asks, looking everywhere but at me.

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” She dashes down the hall as if her pants are on fire. The only word I hear before she shuts the door is a clipped, “Hello?”

Is it her fiancé? I clench my jaw, jealousy rearing its ugly head. A better man would give her privacy, but fuck that. I need information. So, even though it’s an invasion of privacy, I instruct Sprocket to stay put and follow her down the hall, where I stand outside the room. Thankfully, the doors in this house are particle board and do nothing to keep me from hearing her side of the conversation.

“I’ll be home soon,” she says, and my hands tighten to fists. “I told you, I just needed a break from all the wedding planning and everything.” She’s lying to him, but surely he knows about me. Or maybe he doesn’t. Skylar lived a double life when we were together, her family in one lane and me in the other. “I’m at a B&B up north. I was planning on coming home today, but a storm moved through, and it’s not safe for me to drive home just yet.”

Her tone is all wrong. It’s placating and meek. That’s not the Skylar I know at all. Back when we were together, she’d tell anyone who looked at her sideways to fuck off and have a shit day. She had “don’t mess with me” written all over her with her heavy makeup, her black T-shirts, torn jeans, and worn boots.It’s what drew me to her. Now, she sounds as timid as a kitten, and I don’t like it.

“Of course, I’m alone.” Pause. “I don’t have the energy for this today.” Pause. “That’s not what I meant. I just—” Pause. “Okay. See you soon.”

Knowing the conversation is about to end, I slip back down the hall and over to the credenza. Seconds later, Skylar is back, tucking her phone away.

“Everything okay?” I ask, finding the movie I was looking for.

“Yeah, fine. Thanks for letting me use the room.”

“This fiancé of yours, does he know where you’re at?”

She wants to lie; I see it on her face. But after thinking for a long minute, a look of resignation comes over her. “Not exactly. He knows I’m up north, but he thinks I’m just clearing my mind before the wedding.”

“He doesn’t know you’re already married?”

“No one knows except Dee.”

This doesn’t surprise me or hurt my feelings. Up until recently, I hadn’t told anyone either. It was a secret tether between us. “You’re still friends with Dee, huh? How’s she doing?”

“She’s good. Married with a couple rugrats.” She smiles. “They’re adorable.”

“Wow. When I think of Dee, I think about her doing keg stands, not changing diapers.”

“Maturing will do that to you.” She stands awkwardly just outside the sitting area of the living room.

I should leave it alone. After all, wasn’t I the one who wanted to keep things easy tonight? But I have too many questions burning through me. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“You know why.”

“Tell me anyway,” I say.

“My dad would’ve lost his mind and probably hunted you down and made me a widow.” Her tone is flippant, but we both know she’s not joking.

“What about your fiancé? What would he do if he knew you were married?”

“He would hunt you down, torture you to within an inch of your life, then make me a widow.”

I would’ve been scared of that threat fifteen years ago, but now, it doesn’t do anything but piss me off. “And you want to tie yourself to a man like that for the rest of your life?”

She narrows her eyes on me. “Fuck you, Walker. You don’t know shit about my life, so don’t sit there and pretend like you do.”

I can’t quite read her expression with her standing so far away, so I point to the sofa. “Come over here and sit down so we can have a proper conversation.”

“When did you get so bossy?” she asks but does as I say, plopping down with her arms folded.

“Maturing will do that to you.” I throw her words back at her as I sit on the opposite end of the couch. There’s nothing but a little air between us, but we’re not quite touching.

---