Page 31 of The Fence Between Us

The hair on her arms rose, and unease snaked through her. She sprinted around the front corner of the long building to reach Rabble, barely comprehending the awful, hateful words spewing from Dylan’s mouth like toxic sludge. When her father spoke, venom spitting in every clipped syllable, she skidded to a stop so quickly her bones protested. Incapable of moving, her breath seizing in her chest as the solid, reassuring bottom of her world fell out from under her.

Chapter 19

Rabble

Rabble took long, eager strides toward the bridal shop’s entrance. He hadn’t been apart from Skye for long, but he’d found himself glancing at his watch repeatedly, wishing the minutes would tick by faster. He wasn’t confident in the picnic he put together for them, but he hoped Skye would enjoy herself on their first official date.

Hurrying up the walkway, he felt lighter than he was used to. His chest didn’t feel as like a vise, and his shoulders weren’t stooped with the weight of the world. After carrying that heaviness for so long, this new sense of freedom was an odd sensation, but one he could get used to.

He set his hand on the ornate door handle just as the reflection of two men appeared in the glass window panes to his left. Rabble heaved a heavy sigh and squared his shoulders, turning to meet them head-on with his face a mask of emotionlessness.

“Max.” Rabble’s rumbling voice concealed all the derision he felt as he met the older man’s gaze.

The second man stood just shy of six feet, judging by the way he tilted his head slightly to look Rabble in the eye. Though a stranger, his self-confidence proceeded him like a wave, and he wore his suit like it meant something. His flawlessly styled blond hair didn’t shift, stiff with product strong enough to stand up to the breeze. Rabble wondered if he held a lighter near that perfectly coifed concoction, would the entire thing go up in flames? He chafed at the man’s self-assured importance, and a predatory stillness settled over Rabble as he prepared for a confrontation.

“This is Dylan Santoro,” Max gestured, his oily politician’s voice in full force.

Rabble’s skin crawled.

Dylan extended his hand, a smirk set firmly on his smarmy face. A single glance at that polished hand, the manicured fingernails, proved Dylan had never done a hard day’s work in his life. Rabble met the man’s stare, ignoring the proffered hand and returned his attention to Max.

Determined to deal with this pissing match outside, Rabble stepped away from the door, away from Skye and anyone he cared about. They didn’t need to hear this.

“What do you want?” Rabble kept his voice low, practically lethal with simmering loathing.

Max cleared his throat. “I thought we had a deal.”

“A deal?” Rabble lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles flexing and stretching the confines of his shirtsleeves. He knew it was a defensive position, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

“Don’t you dare play dumb, boy. You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

“You had no right to demand what you did, then or anytime.”

“Like hell I didn’t. She’s my daughter, and you were going to fuck up everything. You always did, and you still do. Ever since you moved into that dump next door.”

Dylan remained silent, but the disgusted sneer on his face said enough. It seemed watching the mayor tear Rabble apart was more enjoyable than joining in the verbal lashing.

“As if you ever cared about Skye.” Though Rabble’s voice was deceptively calm, he held onto his composure by a thread.

“I’ve been planning her future since the day she was born. But thenyou,” he spat the word like a curse, “wrecked everything. She may have squandered these last few years, but I won’t let you ruin her future again.”

Rabble felt the verbal blow like a slap across his face and took a bracing step backward. How this man always managed to find his insecurities and exploit them was as irritating as it was disarming.

Like a bloodhound on a trail, Dylan caught the scent of Rabble’s momentary lapse in focus, and he sounded as revolted as his words made Rabble feel. “In college, I was her fiancé you know. We spent four years together. What did you think Skye was going to do? Move into your trash heap of a house with you? Pop out your bastard babies and waste away any potential she had?”

Skye almost married this man?This pompous self-important jackass? He didn’t seem like her type with his expensive suit, product-laden hair, and politician snake-like smile.

Then again, maybe he’d misread her. Maybe the years had changed her. Maybe he’d pushed her toward a man like this prick.

He clenched his jaw but otherwise kept his face neutral. If he showed even an ounce of how deeply Dylan’s words struck, this entire conversation would be over, and Rabble would be no better than the torn-down boy he’d been the first time Maxcornered him and painted a grim picture of the inevitable path he’d lead. He still agonized over that grotesque vision Max convinced him waited in his future.

“Who did you say you were again?” Rabble asked, feigning a lazy boredom as he met the man’s gaze.

“Dylan Santoro,” he said, pride lacing his words. “My father is Senator Santoro.”

As if Rabble was supposed to care who the man’s father was? Dylan was a sleazeball of the highest order, that covered the knowledge Rabble considered important about him.

Rabble tilted his head, rapidly making connections with the information he had. “Senator Santoro. Isn’t he one of the biggest supporters for your congressional bid, Mayor?”

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