Page 75 of Wild Eyes
When Skylar asked ifwecoulddo night check, she meant she was going to talk my ear off whileIdid night check.
She’s giving me big Emmy vibes, and that is such a stark change for her in a matter of a week that I’m not even mad about doing all the work.
One hand has her heels hooked on her fingers, while the other hand holds an open water bottle.
“…and honestly, I’m not sure why she hates him. She wasn’t exactly forthcoming. Rosie seemed shocked by the news of her sister’s passing.”
That last bit brings me up short and I stop, dropping the wheelbarrow down on the concrete. “Erika is dead?”
Skylar’s features turn downwards, like it hurts her to confirm it. “Yeah.”
“When?”
“About a month ago.”
“Jesus.” I comb my fingers through my hair, absorbing the death of a woman far too young to die. Seems like just yesterday I saw her at school. Except it wasn’t yesterday. We’re not in high school anymore, and it feels like it went by in a blink.
I think about Ollie and Emmy and how fast they’ll grow up.
Then I think of how it would feel to lose one of them.
It’s fucking unbearable.
“Is that why Rhys is here? That guy doesn’t tell us shit.”
“I don’t know. She didn’t tell us shit about him either. My only real takeaway is that she hates him.”
I swallow. It does seem that way.
“Gonna have to pay her family a visit. Check on Tabby,” I choke out before turning away to hang my utility knife on its hook.
“You’re a good man, West.”
I nod, but my throat feels too thick to talk. Poor Erika. What a sad fucking story. I swipe a hand beneath my nose and turn back to Skylar’s wide eyes and glossy lips.
I scramble for something to say that will lighten the mood and pull my head out of that depressing news. I settle on, “I can’t believe you’re walking around the barn in bare feet.”
We both glance down. Her cute toes wiggle on the dusty concrete floor.
Skylar seems unbothered, though. She shrugs it off. “It feels good.”
That makes me smile. But as her words settle, they reroute my brain. Suddenly I’m thinking about Skylar. And feeling good.
“Is that your new motto?If it feels good, do it?”
Her eyes flare and her teeth strum over her bottom lip. Once. Twice.
God, the way this girl looks at me. Her eyes are like an open book. An instruction manual.
“Guess so.”
An almost nervous swipe of her tongue over those plush lips as her eyes rake over my body and I’m practically panting.
“So what are you going to do now?”
Her cheeks flush, and we both know that even though she said she’s scrubbed that kiss from her brain—she’s thinking about it.
And so am I.
