Page 22 of Unhinged Magic
I blew out a slow breath, allowing me time to find words. The right ones.
“I know this is stupid.Reallystupid. But can I come in? We really need to talk… alone.”
Hesitation pursed her lips as she considered my words. She chewed her bottom lip, and I ignored the urge to moisten my own.
“Fine,” she sighed with reluctance. But I didn’t miss the softness that also brushed her tone. That was new. I liked it.
She motioned me inside before settling on the edge of her bed. Crossing her legs, she pushed the front of her top between her thighs, inspecting me closely.
I scanned her bedroom like it could help me get to know her. Simple and tidy with a few drawers, the bed the biggest piece of furniture. I eyed an armchair pushed into one corner and opted to sit on it, seemingly the safer option if she was to hear me out.
I sank into its pale blue material covered with white doves.
My finger traced the outline of a bird in mid-flight on the armrest. “You like doves,” I stated.
Her throat bobbed. “Yeah.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Why?”
She paused before answering, fiddling with her ring. “They symbolize love and peace. I figured the chair was less of a commitment than a tattoo.”
I wanted to understand her from the inside out, the little fragments of her life suddenly the most interesting of details. Istudied her closely, feeling like I was speaking with a completely different Skye. “You want a dove tattooed on you?”
Her shoulders rose and dropped again.
When I didn’t speak, she continued. “I see spirits. The doves give me something to focus on when the nights get… loud.”
“As in ghosts?” I questioned.
A nod.
I was surprised she indulged me with an answer. This was the most genuine conversation we’d had since she returned. Everything until now had been sharp words. This was progress.
I cracked my knuckles, a bad habit I knew, but it helped contain my nerves. “That must be hard,” I offered.
She tucked her legs beneath her. “It has its moments.”
I softened my voice, needing to keep her in this state of okay at my unexpected intrusion. “Why did you leave?” I asked earnestly, leaving my heart on the table.
Her vision clouded, her head shaking as if she wanted to rid herself from the conversation.
“Skip, please,” I begged this time. I was owed an answer. I deserved it. My pulse pounded in my ears, not sure if I was ready to hear what she had to say. Because this woman had broken my heart. Smashed it into pieces.
Her silence stirred anger in the pit of my stomach.
She chewed her bottom lip again, twisted her ring.
I tried again. “You left. And when I needed you most, you never came back.” My eyes burned. Could she not see how much she had hurt me? How much her not being there had fucking broken me?
I lifted from the chair, unable to sit any longer. I couldn’t temper my blunt words. “You never came to his funeral.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. She swiped it away. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t,” she whispered.
“I don’t understand why you couldn’t come back.” I pointed a finger at my chest. “To be there forme.”
My breathing quickened as I held her captive in my blurred confusion, and when I could face her no longer, I paced the room, unable to think clearly. To understand. Trying to keep it together. I forced a hand through my hair.
