CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
WEST
WHEN I HEAR THE FRONT DOOR OPEN AND CLOSE, I GRIMACE. AND THEN I glance back at my son, who I picked up from school sporting a split lip and a black eye.
His gaze slices to mine and back down. Emmy is sitting at the kitchen counter beside him, glaring at me, holding his hand like she’ll be the one to protect him from getting in trouble.
“Hey, kiddos. Are you home?” Skylar’s voice filters in, but it’s not brimming with excitement for life like I’ve come to expect. It’s flat with a little warble.
She sounds like she did when she first showed up on my doorstep. Like she’s going through the paces of life. Like the night Emmy shattered that glass all over the floor.
When she turns into the kitchen, she draws up short. Her eyes go wide, and then, “Ollie.” She pushes past me where I’m leaning against the stove, rounding the island to get to him. She reaches for him and her gentle fingers trail over the blue swelling on his cheek and the cut on his lip. “What happened?”
My son looks over at me and back at Skylar. “Nothing. Got in a bit of a scuffle.”
The silence in the room is awkward. Even Emmy doesn’t add to his explanation. They both want to protect her, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t killing me.
“Over what? I’ll kill them.” She tilts his head to inspect his cheekbone more carefully. Nothing is broken, I already know. But I don’t tell her that.
There’s something about seeing her dote on him that feels profoundly special.
I’ve watched her and my kids form a bond. Organic from the start. Like
they chose each other.
“It’s fine, Skylar.”
Her hands fall away, and her flat voice takes on a hint of anger. “This is not fine. What happened, West? You need to get down to the school. There
needs to be consequences.”
I nod. “There will be. Trust me.”
“I do. But this… Why won’t you tell me what —”
It’s like a lightbulb flickers to life in her head without me even telling her.
It’s painful to watch.
“Is this about me?”
Ollie stares at her, unflinching.
“Don’t worry, Skylar,” Emmy says. “Ollie taught him a lesson. You should see the other guy. He looks even worse. Dad taught us both how to make fists with thumbs on the outside.” Emmy winks at her like keeping your thumb on the outside is a special secret trick.
From the side, I watch Skylar’s face fall. “Oh, buddy.” Her voice breaks as she leans over and wraps her arms around him. He hugs her back. Hard.
And without hesitation. “Oh, buddy. Oh, buddy. I’m so sorry.”
My eyes sting and my throat aches. I blink furiously as I turn my head away.
“I’m not. He got what he deserved.” Ollie sounds older than he is, and he also sounds furious.
“What did he say? You shouldn’t…you can’t start fighting my battles.”
She pulls away, holding him by the shoulders as though waiting for an
answer.
“It doesn’t matter.”
I watch her jaw flex as her eyes search his face. I thought she’d crumble, but instead, I watch as an eerie sort of armor clicks into place. “I love you, Ollie. I hope you know that. And, Emmy? I love you too. Never change.
Either of you. You have both made my time here better than I could ever have imagined. I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have gotten to know you.”
Then she wraps an arm around each of them and pulls them into a desperate hug. She keeps her head dropped, and they both cling to her. I’m pretty sure I hear murmurs of I love you too. Which is my undoing. I walk away to the bathroom to catch my breath and give them a moment of privacy.
The moment is too sensitive even for me to endure.
But what really has me choked up is that Skylar’s words sounded an awful lot like goodbye.
“I’m going to kill that little prick,” Mia whispers to me as the kids charge into her house to get settled for the week.
“Maybe we can kill him together?”
“And the administration.” She got the same call I did yesterday, but I went to the school to get Ollie and updated her after we got home. Knowing Mia, they haven’t heard the last of this from us. They’re about to be really tired of us, that’s for sure. “And his parents. What kind of clown are the Matthews raising?”
“He still won’t tell me what the kid said, so I imagine it was pretty bad.”
Mia nods, and I can hear Brandon talking to the kids from inside the house. “I’m kind of proud of him, you know? Quiet little Ollie throwing fists to defend a woman’s honor. Maybe he’s got some of you in him after all.”
She punches my shoulder, and I laugh. “How is Skylar?”
I scrunch my nose and look away. “Surviving.”
Seems about as close to the truth as I can get without telling my ex too much. I’ve never told her outright about us, but she knows all the same. She’s a smart cookie that way.
“She makes you happy, huh? I can tell. And I know the kids love her.”
I smile, trying not to give away the sinking feeling of dread that has taken over since Skylar saw Ollie yesterday. Something has shifted, and I’m trying not to think too hard about what it might mean. I don’t want to go there. It hurts too much. All I give back is a casual, “Yeah.”
“Good. You deserve that. Give her a hug for me, okay? Once I finish up at the school, I’d be happy to kill whoever did this to her too.”
“Yeah, Mia, you’re gonna have to get in line for that one.”
She laughs as I turn to leave. “Don’t get arrested” is what she jokingly calls back to me. But we both know there’s a little truth in that joke.
There’s a part of me that hopes Ford never finds out who did this because I hate to think what I’d do to them.
Skylar and I spend the night making love. We sleep for a few hours and then one of us will wake the other. Her crawling on top of me. Me disappearing beneath the sheets. There’s a softness between us. Few words are exchanged.
We say enough with every touch.
But not enough, because when I wake up in the morning, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed in acid-wash jeans and a black tube top.
Makeup perfectly applied. Hair perfectly straightened.
Alarm bells sound in my head. “What’s wrong?”
Her lips are pressed in a tight line and her eyes have taken on that bland, removed look they constantly sported when she first showed up here.
“I’m going to head back to Los Angeles.”
Adrenaline races through my veins as I get my bearings and push to sitting. “Why?”
“The award show is in a week. I need to get ready.”
“So you’ll be back after?” I can hear the desperation in my voice. I knew this would happen.
“I’m sure I will come back to record with Ford from time to time, but I’ll need to go on tour with this album.”
I’m sure my jaw hangs open. “And you decided to tell me like this? Who decided you need to go on tour?” God, I hate myself for even asking that. I knew she was here for a short time, and I’m the one who went dreaming of more. I told her I’d never stand between her and her career, and I meant it.
But I still hate it.
“I don’t think there is a good way to tell someone this.” Her voice is perfectly even. Perfectly checked out. “Sometimes things don’t turn out the way we want them to.”
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Nah.” I shake a hand at her as I kick my legs out of bed and come to stand. “I have sat by your side and given you space for the past week while you worked through this in the way you wanted to. I haven’t made a single demand of you. But you need to explain this to me in a way that makes sense.”
Her eyes turn pleading now as she stares up at me. “We’re a love song, West. Tragic and true all at once. I thought I could be both versions of
myself. Starlet Skylar and Rose Hill Skylar. But I’m only going to ruin what you have here. I won’t mean to, but I will. That’s the nature of my beast.
Please don’t be another person telling me what to do with my life.”
I blink at her, lost for words. She stands and faces me, her features pained. I’m stunned and not at all shocked. I’ve been able to feel her pulling away all week.
“I love you, West. I love you enough not to ruin what you’ve built here.
The looks. The whispers. The paparazzi. Your children being teased. Getting hurt”—she thrusts a hard finger at her chest—“because of me?”
A sad laugh slips from her lips as her head shakes. “I can’t live with that, and you shouldn’t have to settle for it. I know what growing up in the press is like. I know what gets spit out on the other side, and trust me, you don’t want
that for your kids.”
“I—”
She holds up a hand to cut me off. “I know what you’re going to say.
That I’m worth it. That we’ll make it work. I love your eternal optimism, and I hope I can take some of that with me when I go, but make no mistake, I am going. And you might hate me for it right now, but one day you’ll look back and know it was the right call. My life has never really been my own, but yours is.”
I just stare at her, frozen in place, as she continues.
“This place is sacred. Don’t let me sully it. I’ve traveled the entire world and seen nowhere more beautiful. I want it to stay that way. You and Rose Hill, exactly the way I imagine them—fucking perfect.” Her voice cracks on the final whispered words.
I hate what she’s saying. I hate it with every fiber of my being. But that deeply rooted insecurity of mine rears its ugly head and keeps me from begging her to change her mind.
I’m not enough to keep her here, and I need to hold on to a few threads of my dignity if I plan to survive her walking away. So what I say is, “I love you enough to want you to do what’s best for yourself.”
Her nose wiggles, and we can’t hold each other’s gazes. This all feels
wrong.
“My car will be here soon.”
A shot in the chest.
Knowing she planned this kills me, but I refuse to crumble until I’m alone. “Let me get dressed. I’ll help you with your bags.”
I feel her eyes on me as I step into my most comfortable pair of jeans and toss on a dark gray tee, then I scoop up her bags and head downstairs. She follows me silently. Being mature and gentlemanly has never felt so fucking awful. Young West is raging inside me, telling me to do something crazy, but that’s an impulse I’ve learned to ignore.
I don’t bother putting on shoes. I carry her bags, one in each hand, out to the driveway where Cherry’s blanket-covered cage is already waiting. I’m even going to miss that fucking bird.
My throat constricts as I stare out at my land, at what I’ve built here. It feels a lot less special knowing she won’t be here, and for a guy who mostly keeps his feelings locked up tight, I’m sure drowning in them right now.
The sound of the screen door closing behind me signals that Skylar is headed my way, but I’m too wounded to look. Too mad at the world and afraid of what I might say.
She doesn’t hesitate to plant herself right in front of me, though. Her eyes are glassy, and her fingers are fiddling with a manilla envelope. “You’ll need these papers. Those diamond earrings? I sold them when I was back in Los Angeles. I put the money from each one into an education savings account for Ollie and Emmy. Ollie is so smart —”
Her voice cracks, and she reaches for her throat. “I just know he’s going to do amazing things with that big brain and soft heart. And Emmy is so passionate. I’m pretty sure she’s going to take over the world. I’ll always be cheering them on.”
She presses the envelope to my chest. “There’s also the credit for the song that Ollie helped me write. There were only a few lines, but I wouldn’t have written my first song if it wasn’t for him. It hasn’t been released yet, but when it is, he’ll get royalties for the rest of his life.”
“Skylar, this is…” I look down at the envelope. Too much.
“Please take it. And please, no matter how angry you are with me, promise you’ll only tell them good things about my time here.”
The kids. Fuck. They’re going to be as gutted as I am. Not that we ever told them about our relationship, but they’re used to her being here with us.
This is what I never wanted for them. Coming and going. Instability. And here I am, putting them through it.
Guilt hits hard and tangles itself up with the shock and dread already coursing through my system.
The manilla envelope falls to the ground as Skylar steps in close, one
hand on my chest, one hand on my rib cage. “Can you please remember only the good things too? I don’t know if I can stand the idea of you hating me.”
“Sky…” I shake my head slowly, staring down into her glossy hazel irises. My voice is thick with emotion, so I take a break from trying to talk. I pinch a piece of her hair and watch the bronze strands slip across the pads of my fingers. Memories of that same hair falling like a curtain around me when she climbed on top pummel me in flashes. That same hair on my pillow. That same hair looped through the back of a turquoise hat. “Don’t you get it? I could never hate you. Only miss you terribly.”
Then I kiss her. In the soft morning light, we cling to each other and share the most agonizing kiss. It’s soft and desperate and fucking tragic. She whimpers and splays her hands against me.
The sound of wheels crunching on the driveway makes my heart free-fall into my stomach. I pull her closer as though I can kiss her hard enough to make her change her mind or will that town car out of existence.
Maybe I could be enough to keep her here.
But none of it works.
She leaves.
And I crawl into a bed that still smells like her and fall apart.