CHAPTER 8

SCOTT

“So, just how far is it to Traverse City?” she asks cheerfully.

I tap my thumbs against the steering wheel before turning on the radio. “Roughly five hours, give or take. Might as well make yourself comfortable.”

Taking my advice, she kicks off her sandals and rests the balls of her feet on the dash. Thank God, she decided to leave those rubber boots back at the apartment. I know it might sound crazy, but Skylar in a pair of tight leggings and boots with little yellow ducks… Instant hard-on. If she had worn them, I swear I’d have the worst case of blue balls ever recorded. I jokingly thanked her when she changed out of them, and my dick and balls offered up their own silent vow of gratitude. Still, I can’t help wondering why the hell she packed rubber boots in the first place. Who the hell does that?

“I’m curious about something,” I say slowly. She sneaks a glance in my direction and I take that as my cue to continue. “What are the boots for?”

“Oh,” she laughs, “so we’re back to that, huh? I don’t know. Sam told me it rains a lot up here. I never get the chance to wear them back home, and they really are too cute to keep stashed by the front door.”

You can leave them by my front door and get no complaints from me.

“Sam? Who’s that? Boyfriend?”

“Noooo.” She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Roommate. Sam is short for Samantha.”

“Aha.”

Seeing her shoes off, I sneak a glance in her direction, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the light blue polish on her toenails. It matches the color on her fingers. Ashley used to go have her nails done every two weeks; only when she went, she always came back with some gaudy dark color. The color Skylar chose is light and very simple. Very Skylar. But in all our time together, I can’t recall ever seeing her with painted nails. This looks fresh, like she’s recently had them done.

“So, are mani-pedi’s your thing now? Or did you do all that because you knew you were coming to see me?” It’s shitty of me to call her out, especially when our trip’s just gotten started, but Christ, this may be worse than the damn boot scenario. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop staring at her damn nails. They’re so… Cute. Is that even a way to describe someone’s fingers and toes? No? Fuck it. They’re pretty fucking cute, so that’s what I’m going with. Stupid blue polish with the little baby clouds…

If my question irritates her in any way, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she wiggles her toes and shoots me a killer smile. Fuck. Those dainty blue toes and that tiny gap between her front teeth have my dick straining against the seam of my cargo shorts.

“For your information, I have a standing appointment with my manicurist every other Thursday.” She sticks out her tongue at me, and a dirty comeback is right on the tip of my tongue, but I decide to let it go. This time.

“Standing appointment…” I shake my head, feigning disappointment.

She changes position. Heels pulled tight against her ass. Cheek resting on one knee. Pondering her response.

“I haven’t changed. If that’s what you’re thinking. I may treat myself to salon appointments, fine chocolates, or sheets with high thread count. But I’m still the same girl from Leland High. The same girl whose locker you used to wait by. The same girl you used to…” Her voice drifts, and she gives her head a little shake. “Never mind.”

“Hey, I’m sorry.” I reach across the console and find her hand. “I was only trying to bother you.” A ghost of a smile touches her lips, and I start to relax again. I trace the pad of my thumb over her fingers, pausing when I reach the tip of her index finger. “I like this color. It almost matches your eyes.”

Slowly, she withdraws her hand from my grasp and sits cross-legged in her seat. I fear I may have crossed a line. Touching her that way. It’s just so hard not to touch her. I don’t care how long it’s been; once you’ve shared a special bond with someone, that connection is always a part of you.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Scott. Being with you this way is very reminiscent of days gone by, and because of that, I think we need to be careful this weekend. I could very easily allow myself to be caught up in your spell, and I’m not sure I can survive the aftermath a second time.” She averts her eyes to stare out the window. “The first time was hard enough.”

Guilt slams into me and sits right in the center of my chest. I knew I’d hurt her; I just never realized how badly I’d broken her heart. Looking at her now, I’d give anything to be able to go back and change the course of fate. But as it is, I can’t. The only thing I can do is to try and take the broken pieces and mend them back together. In order to do that, she needs to know the truth about what happened all those years ago.

“Why’d you leave Chicago? Why wouldn’t you answer any of my texts? Christ, Skylar, back then, you wouldn’t even look at me. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I hated myself for what I did to you. What I did to us. I never intended for things to happen the way they did. It’s just, my stupid friends… They badgered me every day. They were relentless. There were so many times when I just wanted to lie and tell them that we’d slept together, but I couldn’t do that to you.” My right hand loosely holds on to the steering wheel, while the other pinches the bridge of my nose as the memories come flooding back. “That day you came to my house had been a really bad day, and just like always, you came in and held me and everything in my world was right again. Then, when you whispered those things in my ear… I was so happy, because I’d wanted you so badly. Fuck. Do you have any idea how crazy you made me? How happy you made me?” Our eyes connect, and I see the tears pooling in hers. “Please don’t cry, baby.” The term of endearment slips out as if I’d never stopped using it.

“You slept with her. You said we needed a break, and then you went and slept with her,” she says through her sniffles.

My face wrinkles in confusion. “What are you talking about? What girl did I sleep with?”

She makes a disgusted sound and rolls her eyes as if I should know. “Rachel Westin.” The name drips off her tongue like battery acid.

Now, it’s my turn to scoff. “Wait? You’re serious? Come on, Sky, you know me. Do you really believe I would do that to you? I just needed some time to think. Not go and fuck other girls. Let alone my ex-girlfriend.”

Fat tears spill down her cheeks.

One. Two. Three.

Three down the left. Three down the right. I know, because instead of watching the road like I should be, I count them. I count them and know that even though I never slept with Rachel Westin after she became my ex, I’m responsible for making Skylar cry.

For her tears.

For her leaving Chicago.

For not standing up and being the man she needed me to be.

For breaking my own goddamn heart.

“I never slept with Rachel after we broke up. In fact, after you left, I didn’t sleep with any other girls. Not until college. It just… It just wouldn’t have felt right. Ya know?” I blow out a heavy sigh and sneak another look at her.

She’s so beautiful. God, I’m such a fucking idiot.

“Six months,” she states softly. Our eyes connect briefly before she turns to focus on something out the window. “That’s how long I waited. Day after day, I held out hope that maybe you’d change your mind. Realize you’d made a mistake. But six months passed, and that call never came. I made the decision to finally let you go. It took a little time, but I started living again. You broke me pretty badly, but I have great friends and they took care of me. Helped me heal. I started dating again and finished my degree. Landed an amazing job. My life was pretty great until…” Her words taper off, and I’m screaming inside, wanting to hear the rest of her story. But I don’t want to look at her for fear she may stop talking.

“Six months ago, I was online doing research for my job, and I came across a photo of you. A magazine cover of some sort. I saw that photo, and a little piece of me started to wonder what if. What if you’d called me? What if I’d never left Chicago? What if I’d never stopped you that night?”

I drum my thumbs along the edge of the steering wheel. Bile burning the back of my throat, because so many times I’ve asked myself those same questions.

“That’s an awful lot of questions.”

She clears her throat before responding. “I know.”

“Questions I’m not sure I have the answers to. Not right now, anyway.”

Her hand immediately goes to my arm and gives it a firm squeeze. In typical Skylar Dennison fashion, her instinct is to protect me. “Scott, it’s okay. I’m not telling you this because I want to get back with you or because I expect something from you. I guess your honesty just made me think it was time for me to come clean. I think out of everything that happened, I missed our friendship the most. As you may recall, I didn’t have a lot of close friends. But I had you, and truth be told, I probably relied on you a little too much. I figure if we’re going to spend the next two weeks together, we may as well try and put the past behind us and focus on being ourselves while we’re here.”

My grip on the wheel tightens as a low guttural sound vibrates in the back of my throat. “Little hard to put the past behind me when it’s sitting less than two feet away.”

“If you didn’t want me here, then why’d you knock on my door?” She cocks her head and challenges me with an arched brow.

“I don’t know.” I shrug and shift my gaze to hers. “Guess maybe it’s because I like who I am when I’m around you.”

“I like it, too,” she whispers.