CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
SKYLAR
BREAKING NEWS: Skylar Stone is a stone-cold badass who completed her own album and released a banger of a single that everyone loves almost as much Weston Belmont, her number one fan.
I WAKE WITH A START TO A PITCH-BLACK ROOM, LIGHT FILTERING IN FROM the door that leads to the hall.
“Dad? Skylar?” Emmy’s sugary voice filters in from the bedroom door and I freeze.
West and I have been sleeping together for several weeks now, but it’s not something we’ve advertised to the kids. I must have passed out after sneaking in here.
We’ve been making up for lost time since I became a woman obsessed with getting him naked. Everything is hot and filthy between us, and I’ve never felt freer or safer to experiment with sex in my life.
He’s my new addiction.
The kids are back to school. The album is recorded. We released the first single almost immediately, and it was an instant fan favorite.
Once the words started flowing, they poured out of me like a faucet. The minute the studio was ready, Ford and I got busy making music. He brought in musicians. I brought the words. We worked like mad. It feels like we put our heads down to see what we could come up with and got so obsessed that by the time we looked up, we had an entire album.
Inspiration has never felt so consuming.
“Emmy?” I whisper back, hearing her feet pad across the floor as she approaches the bed.
He hasn’t said it to my face, but I know why he hasn’t outright told them.
He told me once that he wasn’t going to bring someone into their life who was impermanent.
I know he thinks I’ll leave. Leave them all behind for the city lights. With my album recorded, it feels like we’re barreling toward that moment. But the longer I spend here, the more impossible it feels to leave.
Emmy’s small hand wraps around mine, and her voice cracks when she tells me, “I had a bad dream.”
“Hey, hey. That’s okay.” I push up on an elbow and reach forward to swipe a hand over her hair. “We all have bad dreams sometimes.”
What I don’t tell her is that my recurring one is about having to leave Rose Hill and going back to my old life. The one I dread. The one I’m more and more happy to leave behind.
“Can I come in with you?” I hesitate at that, and not because we haven’t been affectionate. Hell, she’s crashed in my room on more than one occasion.
But with both West and myself in the bed, it feels infinitely more…family- like? And I don’t know if I fit into that.
All the same, she doesn’t seem alarmed to find me here.
“Of course. I’ll go back to my room so you can get in.”
West stirs and throws an arm over me as I lift the covers.
“Oh, no.” Emmy’s small hand lands on my forearm. “You probably had a bad dream too. You should stay.” Then she crawls up onto the bed, rolling herself over my body to wedge herself between West and me.
“I had a bad dream?” I whisper as she hunkers down.
“Yeah. You had a bad dream and came to my dad. He’s the best at making you feel all warm and happy inside.”
West’s deep chuckle rumbles across the sheets, and I can hear the smile
in it.
And Emmy is right.
I feel warm and happy inside.
“Go to sleep, girls. No bad dreams allowed here,” West rasps sleepily as he edges back to make more room.
I feel like an interloper. Entirely out of place. Whenever I had a nightmare, my parents sent me back to bed, and the next day, I’d have to hear about how annoying it was that I woke them up. There were no 3 a.m.
snuggles in the Stone household.
“I should go.”
West’s arm reaches across Emmy and his big, calloused palm rubs over
my shoulder.
“Stay.”
This is the second time he’s asked me to stay.
And so, I do.
With watery eyes and warm, happy insides, I stay in bed, listening to them breathe in unison. And the significance of the invite isn’t lost on me.
I stare at the screen before me and feel all the blood drain from my face.
Feels like it might be spilling out around me onto the floor. My coffee is forgotten as my hands shake.
A Billboard Music Award nomination for the new single.
A nomination for something all my own. Something made with joy. And we haven’t even released the entire album. This is just the first song of many.
The most special one.
It’s no Grammy, but I’ve never expected a Grammy. I don’t actually know what I’ve expected or what my goals have been.
It dawns on me as I sit staring at the email that I’ve been punching the clock and doing what it takes to make the paycheck. The paychecks I’ve
practically signed away to my parents.
Until now. Until this.
Ford and I released the first single last month, and it blew up. It’s swampy and stripped down. “Dolly Parton vibes” is what Cora keeps calling it.
It’s not danceable. It’s me. Sitting on a stool, mic in hand, sharing my
secrets. And it’s the first song I’ve ever released that I love. From top to bottom, I love it. Ford made sure of it.
I made sure of it.
A tear slips down my cheek, but it’s not a sad one. It’s brimming with pride.
I am so proud of myself, I could burst, and I can genuinely admit this is a new experience for me.
The creak of the back door doesn’t draw my attention away. I keep
reading the email over and over again.
“We are thrilled to announce…”
“What’s wrong?” West’s voice is downright glacial from across the kitchen, and when I look up at him, his eyes trace the tears on my cheeks like they offend them. “Who made you cry? I’ll fucking —”
I hold a hand up and give him a watery smile. “Happy tears” is all I choke out before waving him forward.
He stalks across the room with a furrowed brow, and I can’t help but feel so loved in the way he rushes to defend me.
It never gets old. Him. The way he is—it’s helped me heal.
West rounds the stool and props a hand on the counter, towering over my shoulder. His breath rushes out when the words hit home.
“Fuck…” His head shakes and I know he must be reading it over again.
“Fuck yeah, Sky. That’s my girl.”
He says it with such heartrending affection. Such awestruck admiration.
More tears fall as I turn to him and smile softly. His eyes brim with wonder as his arms snake around my body. He lifts me off the stool and before I know it, he’s spinning me. Hugging me. Pressing excited kisses all over my cheeks.
I squeal and give back everything I’m getting. I bask in his praise.
“That’s my fucking girl,” he whoops, and I squeeze him harder.
My number-one fan.
When he finally puts me back down, he holds me at arm’s length and
asks, “How do you feel?”
“Incredible” is my breathless response.
His fingers trail over my cheekbone and tenderly comb loose strands of hair back behind my ear. “That’s how you should always feel. God, I’m so proud of you, Sky.”
He kisses me, and I melt. For him. Into him. I melt so completely that I
hope I’m stuck to him forever.
We haven’t really talked about forever. Me, too afraid to insert myself into his life. Him, too afraid to ask me to stay. Both of us too shit-scared to mess up something that feels so vital.
He hugs me to his chest, and I can hear his heartbeat against the shell of my ear. Steady and sure. His arms encase me like the warmest blanket and the toughest shield.
“I’ve been putting off meeting with my agent, and I really should…I don’t know, do something about this nomination. The other emails are all interview requests. And I finally feel up to talking about my music. So I’m going to need to go back to LA soon to prepare. This award show is only a few weeks away.”
“I know.” His chin rests on my head so I can feel him nod.
“I’ll come back though, okay?”
His arms clamp down on me tighter. “You fucking better.”
“I promise.”
He nods again, his voice more tentative now. “I can’t leave, Skylar. Not for any real amount of time. My kids —”
“I know.” He doesn’t need to tell me, I know.
“But I also don’t want you stuck here. This is incredible. You’ve worked so hard, and you deserve to soak up every moment. To go after every dream.
I want us, but I want that for you more.”
Now my tears are sad. Go after every dream. The words clog in my throat, and I don’t want to turn into a weepy mess, so I skirt the truth.
The truth is, my dreams have changed.
“I promised that I’ll be back, and I meant it.”
This time, when he nods, he doesn’t say anything. He just holds me. For a long, long time.
Photosynthesis by Skylar Stone
Backroads
Are never paved by a girl like me Can’t be seen
No emerald But the leaving I’ve seen
Still lies right before me
I’m a spoonful of polish Just blind trust turned faithless
But my world doesn’t matter here
And my porcelain life is behind me I found peace in these clashin’ chairs Never knew such a small life could free me
In the pines, by the water
In the arms of another
Little hands with big hearts find me And I find peace
My life
Is tailored to fit just so Never chosen
Then you came
Set fire to the lies I honed Now I’m hoping
The future is perfect, Strip me down to human
But my world doesn’t matter here
And my porcelain life is behind me
I found peace in the calmer air In the simplicity of a new dream
In the pines, by the water
In the arms of a lover
Little hands with big hearts find me And I find peace
Breathing in until my lungs cry It’s like I’m forced here, trapped in two lives Oh, the peace I’ve found
Or my old doll house
Breathing out the love you’ve shown me
Got a bird’s eye view of healing
Found in innocence Photosynthesis
‘Cause my world doesn’t matter here
I left that version of me in the city I found home in a broken glass I found home in the words that he gave me
In the pines, by the water
In the arms of a lover
Little hands with big hearts find me And I find peace