Page 135 of Wild Eyes
So I sit and stew by the lake.
I don’t even leave to watch West ride. I haven’t told him about my run-in with Bree because I don’t want to add one more mark in theFeel Bad for Skylarcolumn. Plus, I know he’ll march out there and try to fix it. And I don’t want to add to his burden. But it makes things strained between us. There’s a distance that I can’t figure out how to bridge.
I don’t mean to be punishing him. His hugs, his gentle touches, and his reassuring words, they…they don’t match the way I’m talking to myself on the inside. And I’m back to feeling like there’s a part of me that believes I don’t deserve his brand of kindness. His brand of unwavering love.
I’ve avoided intimacy since the bombshell, and he hasn’t pushed. He’s a gentleman, so he spends all night holding me instead of fucking me.
He has a beautiful life here, and I can’t stop thinking about why he’d want me here when I bring shit like this to his front doorstep. Deep down, I know these thoughts are just popping up because of the headspace I’m in. And I know they may not be totally accurate. But anxiety works in mysterious ways, and I find their sentiment following me all the same.
They’re hard to shake.
I feel like he should be angry with me—disappointed with me—and he’s just not. He’s steadfast in his love and affection, and I’m convincing myself it’s a front. It’s pity.
You’re going to hurt him, and you probably won’t even mean to do it.
That’s the sentiment that haunts me. Because I’m realizing I would endure any level of pain to keep West and those kids from hurting. The burden is cumbersome.
I want to go to sleep and wake up to realize this was all a terrible dream.
“You’re gonna grow right into that log if you keep sitting here.”
My head pivots as Rosie saunters down the narrow path to the lakeside. She’s dressed casually in jeans and a crewneck. Socks and Birkenstocks—which I try to overlook.
When she gets to me, she brushes her hands together and stares out over the lake before plopping down on the log beside me.
“How are you, Skylar?”
“Ha!” I bark out a laugh. “Oh, you know, just fucking peachy, Rosie.”
“Yeah, being violated is just a walk in the park, right?” From her biting tone, I get the sense she’s got her own story too. We all do, I guess. But still I sigh, feeling a little more at ease around her.
“How bad is it?”
Her head joggles, and I can tell she’s considering her next words. “Ya know, I’m not going to lie to you. It’s pretty bad.”
My stomach drops like I’m on an awful carnival ride. “Cool. Love that for me.”
“I would have come sooner, but West is acting like a fucking wolf protecting his den. He told me you wanted to be alone, and he hasn’t allowed me over.”
“I did tell him that.”
She snorts. “Well, he’s taken the duty seriously. The way he’s working his horses is by patrolling the property fence lines.”
Tears spring up in my eyes. What a good man. What a good fucking man. And what an inconvenience to have to patrol your own home like that.
“I should hire security.”
“Ford already did.”
My lips clamp down to hold back a sob.
“Can I ask you something?”
I nod swiftly, not trusting myself to talk.
“Do you like being famous?”
“Not right now.”
