Page 14 of The Fence Between Us

Seriously?Rabble fought the growl that rose in his chest, threatening to spill over and out of him. He had many choice words for her parents and none of them were nice or anywhere near cordial. Their daughter was following a career she was passionate about, and they couldn’t be bothered to ask her about her work. He supposed there were different types of abuse and neglect, and while Skye’s parents may never have laid a hand on her, the damage they’d done ran just as deeply as his own.

A softness replaced her surprise, and her eyes went distant. “My students. I know that’s the cheesy answer, but it’s true. In kindergarten, they’re just learning how to be their own person, what they like, what they want. I start the school year telling them a story about making friends with someone who may be different from them. Watching how they embrace that and the friendships that develop throughout the year is always a blessing. Some of the most interesting pairings have come out of my classroom.”

She met his gaze knowingly, and a surge passed through him, striking his chest and traveling through his body as he froze. She toldtheirstory to every student that came through her door.

How am I supposed to respond to that?

Looping a garland of flowers around her body, Skye climbed onto the platform, kneeled down at the base of the post, and focused on her project as if she hadn’t just completely tilted his entire world on its axis.

His chest felt tight, like his heart didn’t have enough space to pump, and his lungs refused to take in enough air. He wasn’t used to the feelings roiling around in his head, and each time he tried to grasp onto the end of one thought, it would skate away from him and tangle with the others again. It was enough to drive him crazy.

“Skye.” His voice hushed, but she tilted her ear toward him, listening. If only he could hide the anguish that worked its way up his throat and choked him. “Thank you.”

She lowered her glue gun and locked eyes with him, those clear blue depths conveying so many thoughts she wouldn’t say aloud. Skye glanced away first, releasing him and providing him the space he needed to breathe, to process. Shrugging, Skye turned back to her work, “Nothing to thank me for.”

He kneeled down beside her as her long dainty fingers worked to untangle the floral garland. Tenderly, Rabble slid his hand over hers, stilling them as he stroked his thumb over the backs of her knuckles as he waited for her to pull away, to jerk out of his touch with disgust.

When she didn’t, he whispered, “All I ever wanted was someone to stand up for me, for someone to see me through the poverty and dirty clothes. You always did, and now you’re making sure no child who enters your classroom feels the shame that comes with being from the wrong side of the tracks. Thank you.”

A pretty blush graced her cheeks, and Rabble brushed a featherlight kiss over the smooth, pink skin.

He stood, putting distance between them, hoping the tension would dissipate and release the vice grip on his heart. Neither of them spoke again, hammering nails, gluing and stringing garland in a tentative truce for the next couple of hours. She must have been lost in her thoughts the same way he was in his, and neither was prepared to share. Mechanical sounds filled the space, providing mind-numbing clamor for their deep thoughts. If she appreciated the background noise as he did, Rabble wasn’t sure, but he was thankful for the chance to focus on the storm raging in his head. He could hardly sift through the static and thunder to form anything that might resemble a coherent sentence.

Several hours later, Rabble leaned against the warm white metal siding of the warehouse, the ribbed edges digging into his back while he stared out at the gravel road. He flipped a pen between his fingers, fidgeting the way he used to with his lighter, before he’d given up cigarettes.

Skye had gone home a long while ago, leaving him to finish up his project for the day and clean up their tools. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that his whole life, that the entire world he had built for himself, was teetering on a ledge. What would happen when it finally tipped? And what would be left when the dust settled?

Chapter 8

Skye

Skye barely focused on placing one foot in front of the other. If not for the new sidewalk, she could easily have tripped and broken her ankle with how little attention she paid to where she was going.

Rabble’d still been working diligently when she’d called it a day, unable to erase the feeling of his lips pressed sweetly to her cheek. Any hope she had of being marginally successful for the remainder of the day had fled at the brief touch. When she realized her focus was truly shot, the garland in her hand having been threaded and rethreaded three times, Skye organized her supplies and hurried away from the still-crowded warehouse.

She needed to clear her head, a difficult task considering his scent lingered in her nose, the smell of forest and summer rain. She opted to walk through town instead of heading toward her cottage, hoping some of the rose-tinted clouds would drift out of her consciousness and allow her to think clearly.

Given how lonely she’s been, she was eternally thankful for Elyza’s friendship, but what in the world had her friendbeen thinking, pairing her with Rabble for the parade float? Granted, there was no way Elyza could have known about Skye’s complicated background when it came to that particular subject. She had done her best to suppress that part of her past, and though aspects of it still seeped into her daily life, she preferred to ignore them. Thinking about when Rabble had been a reassuring constant in her life made her long for things she had given up hoping for, like adventure and a lifelong confidant. They’d spent years planning the places they wanted to see, the things they wanted to do, with only the lilac bush and the shade tree as witnesses to their childish dreaming.

All these years later, Skye still thought about when she’d find Rabble already lying by the fence, waiting for her. He would spend hours upon hours out there, breathing in the scent of peace. Skye didn’t ask questions; she let him decompress for several long minutes until he was ready to speak. Did Rabble know he provided the same peace for her that she did for him?

Thoughts like those made her shake her head to clear them away. What good did it do her? They promised each other they’d leave Shiloh Hills together on graduation day and never look back.

Well, Rabble had left, alright.But he didn’t bother to take her with him.

Why on earth did he join the army? Why had he run away … from her?

In all of their long conversations, their daydreaming and planning, he’d never mentioned that path as one he might want to pursue. Had he, maybe she could have made him understand, could have showed him that she didn’t care where they went, what they did, as long as they were together.

In those days, when Skye looked to her future, there wasn’t a single scenario where he wasn’t right by her side, sharing in every moment, every triumph and trial, with her. When she letherself think about their days together under the fence, the days when they learned to love and hurt together, the thought of being without him tore at her very soul, at the core of who she was.

Remembering those long-ago conversations and broken promises did nothing for her mental health, and if she was going to get through the next several days working alongside him, she needed to see Rabble as a man, as a friend of a friend—not the boy who forgot her. Besides, she was different now too.

Despite telling herself to stop that line of thinking, Skye commenced a full-blown pity party by the time she reached the end of the street. Fortunately for her mood and unfortunately for her waist, Brick House Cafe was open for business, and several colorful pastries lined the inside a pretty little glass case. Skye wondered which pastry went best with heartache and painful memories.

Chocolate. It had to be chocolate.

Inside the cafe, a long counter separated the small but functional kitchen from the seating area. Glass topped cake stands housed sweet treats in a fantastic array of flavors and colors. Muffins and brownies, cake pops and some other fluffy pastries, each arranged artfully on the trays and along the short glass dome beside the register. Several wrought iron bistro sets dotted the chalky black and white checked tile floor. Exposed brick reached from the floor to the open HVAC and steel support beams overhead. The place hadcozy industrialwritten all over it, not to mention the warm and inviting atmosphere. Skye immediately felt her shoulders ease as she slid into one of the bistro chairs.

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