CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
SKYLAR
I EYE UP THE CANADIAN GOOSE. ITS BLACK, BEADY EYES MEET MINE. I’VE been back in Rose Hill for several weeks and have been dying to get close to one.
“Skylar.” I can hear the warning tone in West’s voice and it just makes me smile. “That goose is not your friend.”
“Then why is he friend-shaped?”
West scoffs and the kids giggle. We came down to the lake for a picnic and I was immediately taken by the bird. His dinosaur-like feet. His long, graceful neck. I swiped a cracker from the old wicker picnic basket and approached him immediately.
“Skylar, I’m serious. I’m more scared of that goose than I am of a grizzly bear.”
I glance over my shoulder and glare at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Only sixty percent of Americans think they could beat a goose unarmed.
It’s in the article. Look it up.”
My eyes roll now. “That’s pathetic. Why would I fight him? I just want to feed him.” My voice goes all gooey. “Don’t I, fella? I just wanna give you a cracker.”
“I’m going to tell Cherry you cheated on her.”
I snort at that but ignore him as I step closer slowly.
“Tomorrow I’m going to send you a headline that says ‘Breaking news: Skylar Stone is tragically murdered by the world’s meanest animal.’”
I almost laugh but decide I don’t want to scare the goose and bite down on it. My back says turned to him. For some reason, I need to do this. It’s inexplicable.
“Hi, friend. Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, for blood.”
Fucking West.
My lips twitch as I reach forward. The goose’s neck arches and his head moves in my direction. Before I know it his beak darts out and he violently rips the cracker from my hand.
I squeal and leap back in surprise, which only makes everyone burst out laughing. The goose makes a huge mess, crackers crumbling everywhere, and I turn back to West and the kids with a know-it-all smile plastered on my face.
“I did it!” I raise my fists in the air like I’ve won a race. But the motion is so exaggerated that the goose startles and takes off, skimming onto the water just to get away from me.
“See? I’m country now. A friend of wild geese. Protector of mice.”
“As long as you’re not a feeder of bears,” West quips, reaching for me and pressing a brusque kiss to my temple.
My head tips from side to side. “I still think they’re cute.”
I turn, kissing his cheek chastely, and when my palm lands on his chest I can feel his heart beating, hard. Like maybe he really is afraid of the goose.
Then I step away, eyeing Ollie, who is sitting in our spot—the spot where we read and where the first lines of my first song were ever written. This spot? It’s magic.
So I trudge over there and snuggle up beside him under one of the blankets he brought down from the house. Minutes pass as we watch West and Emmy lay out the picnic they packed. A blanket, a couple low-slung chairs. The two of them bicker about the layout of the meal and I peek over to
see Ollie roll his eyes.
I can’t help but giggle.
“Are you just going to sit there?” West teases as he pulls out a thermos of apple cider.
I lean back into the roots of the tree behind me, throw an arm over Ollie’s shoulders, and let out a deep and dramatic sigh. “I think I will. Paid good money for this date.”
West’s eyes narrow. “I can’t believe you paid for a date with me and the kids.”
My cheeks pinch together as I bite down on another smile. He’s not going to let me live that one down. But the truth is, in the weeks I’ve been back,
we’ve gotten plenty of time alone. And I get so much attention from him that I would never need to cash that date in anyway. This just seemed like the perfect crisp fall afternoon to relax by the lake with the kids.
And I’m tired.
Body tired from the horseback riding lesson he gave me earlier. And brain tired from the session with my therapist after that. Heart full because now that I’ve started writing music, I can’t seem to stop. I don’t know where this new craving will take me, but I’m excited to have rediscovered my passion for music.
My anxiety has improved with my exit from the public eye.
Both my parents have slunk off to their respective snake pits, finally having realized that their meal ticket is no longer valid. I can’t be sure I’ll get back what they took from me. But the more time I spend away from them, the less I even care.
Even the press seems less and less interested in me. What I do now doesn’t sell gossip magazines at the grocery checkout. And even if it did, I’m getting better every day at handling the moments when those self-doubting thoughts start to pummel me. I’ve learned to identify that voice as “just my anxiety” and tend not to believe her when she tells me things that make my chest feel tight.
Instead, right now, my chest feels tight for entirely different reasons.
Reasons like my eyes catching on a large mason jar that West just pulled from the picnic basket. My heart stutters as I take it in. And when I glance back up, West is watching me. He’s propped on his knees and grinning at me,
looking so utterly proud of himself.
“What is that?”
“Why it’s a jar of Skittles, fancy face.”
My eyes scan again. There’s no rainbow to be tasted in that jar.
“They’re all orange,” I say, making the most obvious observation.
“Of course. Orange is your favorite.”
A watery laugh falls from my lips as I shake my head in disbelief. “What did you do with all the other ones?”
He smirks as he twists the lid open and holds the jar out me. “Ate them.
Can’t you tell? They went straight to my thighs.”
Our eyes lock, and in his baby blues, I see the sparkle and devotion I’ve come to revel in. The kind of sparkles that keeps me laughing every damn day. And the kind of devotion that has had him snacking on all the most
disgusting flavors of Skittles for who knows how long just to save me an entire jar of my favorites.
“This is…” I trail off, reaching in for a few pieces of candy. And then I grin as I turn my palm over and see them there. The gift is ridiculous and significant all at once. “Too much.”
“Uncle Ford agrees,” Emmy pipes up. “He told me you overpaid for this
date with our dad.”
Ollie laughs and West just grins.
“You can tell your uncle Ford that I wholeheartedly disagree.” Then I toss a wink at West. “Plus, it was for a very good cause.”