Page 106 of I Blame the Rival

“I don’t need Wesley.” I choke out the words, knowing there’s only one person who understands what it’s like to not be okay.

“I need Skylar.”

Skylar

“Skylar to the front desk, please.”

My name gets paged over the intercom and I make my way to the front of the store. Mila loves paging people to keep her company during slow hours, but I’m surprised she would do it on a day like today. There’s been a steady stream of customers and the upcoming lunch hour is sure to be slammed.

She’s talking to someone when I arrive and my surprise only grows when I see who it is.

“Skylar. Thank God.” Trip exhales heavily and Mila shoots me a questioning look. I offer her a shrug and turn back to the Tiger who drove a long way to see me.

“Were you picking something up today?”

“Huh?”

“From Brock’s Bolts and Beams. The store you are in right now.”

Mila flicks her hair over her shoulder, “It’s the biggest hardware store in Silverwood.”

I roll my eyes, “It’s the only hardware store in Silverwood.”

“No, sorry. I’m not here for the store. I’m here for you.” Trip fidgets with the thick material of her t-shirt, “It’s Lacey.”

“Ooh, whose Lacey? Sky, you didn’t tell me you have a new girl.” Mila gives me a teasing smile but I ignore it.

“What happened.”

Trip sighs, “I don’t actually know. I took her to the plant shop after her therapy appointment and we bumped into this guy and then she freaked out. I managed to get her to the car, but she doesn’t want to go home.”

Every worst case scenario filters through my head, adrenalin and fear crashing through my system in the deadliest of combinations.

“Where is she?”

“I didn’t know where to go, so I just-

“Where. Is. She.”

Trip blinks at the unmistakable anger in my tone, the need to get to my flower overriding the need to be in control.

“In the parking lot. She’s in really rough shape, so you might want to be careful…”

I’m already sprinting for the door before she can finish her sentence.

For how busy the store is today, there aren’t many cars in the parking lot. The fact that most of our customers are local and within walking distance works in my favour as I go running past the parked vehicles, squinting through windshields to find Lacey.

Where is she where is she where is she.

The panicked loop keeps me going until I find the rusty red Honda sitting at the far end. I was expecting to find her in thepassenger seat, but it’s movement in the backseat that catches my eye. I slow to a stop in front of the door, peering through the window one more time to make sure somebody didn’t just leave their dog in the car.

“Flower?”

There’s another shift of movement and I use it as confirmation. Gently prying the door open, I slip inside and find Lacey curled up in a ball, pressed tight against the opposite door. Rage sweeps through my body as I take in the ripped leggings and cuts decorating her palms.

“Flower. It’s me.”

“I-I’m not okay, S-Skylar.” She can barely get the words out, her breathing almost to the point of hyperventilation.

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