CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
WEST
“SO, WHEN IS SKYLAR BACK?” FORD ASKS AS HE FINISHES TYING HIS bowling shoes. Big nerd finally got sick of wearing the disease-riddled rentals and invested in his own pair. I’ve never been more satisfied by anything in my life.
“Tomorrow.” I rip open a bag of Skittles and pop a green one in my mouth as we wait for Rhys and Bash to show up to the lanes.
“Oh, that’s not bad.”
I shrug. It’s fucking awful, is what it is. She left a week ago, and I’ve been moping ever since. I know her promise to come back is not a hollow one, but I miss her so much, it hurts.
I also know she’s worked hard to achieve her status. Sure, Rose Hill could be home base, but for how long? Or for how many days a year? And could I settle for having only snippets of time with her?
Yes.
The word pops up in my head, and I know I’d take any sliver of time I can get with her. I’ve fallen in love with her. And I live in fear of not being enough. It’s a heavy burden in some ways to know I could be the thing that makes her change the course of her career.
Deep down, I’m not sure I’m worthy of someone changing their entire life to accommodate me. The pressure of it—of thinking I could let them down and become the source of their regret—that’s what keeps me up at night.
“Are you addicted to Skittles?” Ford snaps me out of my spiral by eyeing me judgmentally as I pop a few sugar bombs into my mouth.
I ignore him and offer the bag. “Want some?”
His superior look fades as he reaches for the bag.
“No orange ones.”
“What? Why?” His brows furrow as he takes the candy.
“I know you’re accustomed to getting everything you want, but no orange ones.”
I catch the end of an eye roll right as Bash stomps in with a deadly scowl on his face. He’s got Crazy Clyde in tow.
“Clyde,” I announce, reaching forward to give him a shoulder slap. He was a long-time member of the team but hasn’t left the hospital much lately.
“Good to see ya, man. We’ve missed you.”
He snorts as he steps gingerly around me to take a seat. Truth be told, he looks terrible. Puffy and pale where he’s always been sinewy and tanned from hours spent in the sun fishing, hunting, and meandering through the woods. Bash is the only one who really knows him, and Bash is a man of few words, so none of us know Clyde that well. Only that he’s the hermit who lives on the other side of the mountain and believes a lot of wild conspiracy theories.
“You haven’t missed me. That’s just the 5G radiation fuckin’ with your brain.”
“Programmed by the government?” Ford guesses.
My head tilts. “I thought it gave you cancer?”
Clyde grumbles at us before snapping his finger at Bash. “Grab me a beer while you’re up there, will ya?”
Bash glares at him, jaw popping. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? A beer right now?”
Clyde scoffs. “No better time, wouldn’t you say?”
My eyes narrow as I watch them, trying to figure out the friction. “What’s going o —”
“Sorry I’m late.” Rhys towers over us as he ambles to our table, mouth set in a grim line despite his flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “Was working on something.”
My head tilts as I regard him. “Working on something? Does this mean you’re finally going to tell us something about yourself? Because right now, I’m pretty sure you’re a secret porn star.”
Rhys’s cheek twitches, and he huffs out a dry laugh. “I am not a porn star.
Though I am flattered by the guess.”
“I thought he was a porn star too,” Bash says as he ties his shoes.
“I’m not—” Rhys cuts off, raking an agitated hand through his hair.
“Listen, I’m planning a wedding. Wondering if you guys would like to come to it?”
“Who’s getting married?” I ask, now confused. “Wait, are you saying
you’re a wedding planner?”
“No. I’m getting married.”
We all stare at him with blank faces. I can only speak for myself, but I have no doubt the other guys are just as stunned as me. Rhys is a mystery. He comes and goes from town with no explanation, and he makes no attempt to share that information with us. Hell, I didn’t even know he was living with Tabby until Skylar told me. I guess that’s why I have a hard time imagining
him being in a relationship.
The man is an island.
“To who?” I ask.
He tilts his head to both sides, as though he’s cracking his neck, before looking over my head like he’s found something interesting on the wall across the room. I fall for it and turn to check. But there’s nothing, just a wood-paneled wall with pin holes in it from old posters.
We all watch with bated breath as he lifts his hand to squeeze the back of
his neck before he finally answers.
“Tabitha.”
If I thought I was stunned before, it’s got nothing on how I feel now.
“Like Tabby? Chef Tabby? Bighorn Bistro Tabby? Wants-to-kill-you Tabby?”
“Yep.” Rhys nods firmly and gets to putting his massive bowling shoes on while we all stare at him in fascination.
“I thought you guys hated each other?” Ford sounds suspicious.
“Feelings change,” he mutters as he laces his shoes.
“Well, I, for one, am happy for ya. Hate sex is some of the best sex, as far as I’m concerned,” Clyde says, eliciting groans from Ford and me and a glare from Bash.
Rhys ignores the offhanded comment, though. Instead, he pushes to stand and glares down his nose at us all. “Looks like I’ll be here for the long haul.
So we should try not to suck so much. I hate losing.”
And with that, he marches over to the screen to input our names for the game.
We go on to lose, but not as badly as usual.
After bowling, Ford drops me off at my empty house, and I try not to let that niggling sensation of loneliness creep in after what was a fun night. When I cross the front door, the light over the stove is on, but there’s no sound. No
laughter.
“Fuck you!”
There’s just Cherry.
Skylar was nervous as hell to leave her behind, but I promised her that if I could take care of a barn full of other people’s horses, I could take care of one mouthy parrot.
“That’s fuckin’ rude, Cherry,” I say back as I toe off my shoes.
“Fuckin’ rude. Fuckin’ rude.”
I chuckle as I walk across the floor toward the cage and flick open the door. “You like that one, huh?”
“Like it. Like it,” she repeats to me as she steps gingerly onto my hand. I pull her out and feel my lips twitch as she edges her way up to my shoulder.
“Feed the horses!”
Yes. My nightly routine with Skylar has now become my nightly routine with Cherry.
“Yep, feed the horses.” I move toward the back door and head outside to the barn. Cherry bobs the entire way there and squawks with glee as I toss flakes of hay into every stall. And it’s not until I’m on my way back to the house that I quietly admit, “You aren’t so bad, Cherry. Like, for a bird.”
“Fuck you.”
I peek at her, secretly satisfied that she didn’t yell it at me like normal.
She used a kinder voice, I swear.
Once I’ve filled her food and water, I finally take a shower and head to my computer wearing only the boxers I plan to sleep in. Skylar was on a morning show today, and I missed it because I had to work. I’m hoping they have video clips up now.
I find it easily. She’s on a stage, in the prettiest green dress, sitting at a table and talking with a bunch of women. Beaming. Glowing. Thriving.
God, I’m so in love with her.
It hits my chest hard, hollows me out. I press a hand against my sternum
to rub the ache. And like I willed her into existence, my phone lights up with her name. I’m thankful we got her a phone before she left, even if she insisted on the lowest-tech one she could find. Though the texting and internet capabilities on the flip phone leave something to be desired, we talk every day. My hand darts out to answer it before the second ring can even sound.
“Sky.” I breathe her name like I need it to survive.
“Hi.” Her simple, breathless greeting feels much the same.
“Hi.”
“I miss you.”
“Fuck, girl. Me too. What are you up to?”
“Just got back to my old place after dinner with my agent.”
My old place. In my head, that sounds an awful lot like my house is her
new place.
“How about you?” she continues.
I scratch my hand across my beard and consider skewing the truth, so I don’t come off as lovesick as I am. Then I decide I don’t want to hide the truth from her. “Watching the clip of you from this morning.”
“Oh.” I can hear the smile in her voice.
“If you needed proof of how much I miss you, there it is. Number-one fan and all that.”
She sighs on the other end of the line. “One more sleep. I booked a car service from the airport. No more Tesla. Coming straight to you as soon as I land.”
“And then you’ll be coming again when you get here.”
She laughs. “Speaking of coming, I was calling to tell you to check your
email.”
My brows shoot up. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. In case you were wondering what I wore under that dress this morning.”
My dick thickens as I click open a new browser window. And sure
enough, I have an email from Skylar.
I lick my lips. “I should open it now?”
Her laugh is soft and low. “That’s the idea, yeah.”
I click and my skin hums with anticipation.
Then it flushes with heat.
“Fuck.”
My finger rolls along the mouse, taking me through the series of photos.
Skylar.
Naked in front of a mirror, perfect tits on full display, hand demurely covering her pussy. Hand pulled away. Another with black lacy underwear, curls cascading around her bare breasts. Then with a bra. Then with nylons and fucking garters. Then with heels.
I groan and adjust my cock as I make it to the last few. A dress. A coat.
And then an adorable toe kick while she blows the mirror a kiss.
It’s like an R-rated flip book of my girl getting dressed.
“Do you like them? The camera on my laptop isn’t all bad.”
“Do I like them? Skylar, I’m going to jerk off to them the minute I get off the phone with you. Probably frame them when I’m done. Your laptop is really out here doing the Lord’s work.”
“Why wait until you’re off the phone?” Her voice is sultry.
“Oh, is that what you were after?” I push my boxers down.
“I miss the way you say my name when you come. I want to hear it. Tide me over until tomorrow.”
She doesn’t need to ask twice. I put the phone on speaker and set it beside my computer.
“My palm is wrapped around my cock. Tight like your pussy. You gonna join me?”
I can hear rustling as her breathing grows heavier. “Yes. Yes. Okay, I’m
getting on my bed.”
“What are you wearing?”
“The same set as in the pictures.”
“Hell yeah.” I pump my hand, base to tip, and watch a pearl of precum
form as I do.
“Where are you?”
“At my desk. The one I never use. I’ll fuck you on it tomorrow.”
“You can fuck me anywhere.”
I chuckle, but it’s dark, labored, as I fuck my hand and pretend it’s Skylar. “That’s a dangerous thing to offer, Sky.”
“It’s true.”
I swipe my thumb over the top of my cock, spreading that drop of cum over the head as my breathing goes ragged. “You got your legs spread?
Fingers stuffed in that pretty little cunt?”
“Yes,” she breathes, drawing out the word.
“How many? How many fingers are getting soaked in there, baby?”
“Three.”
“Fucking desperate for my cock, aren’t you?”
“So desperate,” she whimpers. “I need your cock so bad.”
“You look so good, Sky. God, I miss you.”
I jerk myself faster—my eyes on her photos, her voice in my ears—over and over again to her sexy sounds. Moaning my name. Breathing. Cursing.
It’s fucking hot. With her, everything is like that.
“West. I’m gonna come.”
“Me too, baby. Me too.”
My dick swells. I don’t let up. Twisting. Rubbing. Imagining it’s her hot mouth. Her tight pussy. She cries out my name and I follow suit as I lean back and blow on my stomach. Each shot of cum surging in time with her moans. “Skylar, fuck. Fuuuck.”
When I finally catch my breath, I take a Kleenex from the box on my desk and wipe myself up before flopping back in the chair.
“I should have bought a phone with video calling, so I could watch. I knew that was going to piss me off.”
I laugh and run a hand through my hair, still gathering myself after that experience with her. “It’s okay. I’ll show you up close tomorrow.”
We end the night talking in bed until we both fall asleep. And when I wake up in the morning and reach for her, she isn’t there. But my screen shows the call is still active four hours later.