Naked Edge (8 page)

“Please don’t go.” Her voice trembles and it damn near breaks what’s left of my heart.
 

“What’s wrong, babe?” Shit. I didn’t mean to call her babe.

“I miss my mom.”

She’s been here for less than a day and she’s homesick already? She used to stay here for the whole summer. The only time she cried was when she had to leave me to go back home. “Why don’t you give her a call?”

“I can’t.” A broken sob rushes out of her chest. “She died.”

I cross the room in two strides and pull her into my arms. It’s the first time I’ve felt whole since she left. It’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch when she pushes me away. I know this, but I can’t ignore her pain. It would be like driving by an accident and not stopping to help. “Try not to cry. It can trigger another attack.”

“I know.” Skylar’s hands are trapped between our bodies. She spreads her fingers out over my chest then fists her hands in my shirt. “Just hold me for a second. I’ll be okay.”

The sane part of my brain screams,
What the fuck are you doing? Run!
The self-destructive rest of me ignores the warning and walks blindly into the fire. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I want to explain why I disappeared.”

“Okay.” My voice cracks like a thirteen-year-old boy going through puberty.

She takes a shuddering breath. “Did you hear about the huge scandal at Pulman, Under and Klept a few years ago?”

“The biotech company?” I fight the urge to rest my chin on top of her head and release her instead. At least a sliver of self-preservation survived. “They went out of business, right?”
 

“The FDA shut them down after one of their miracle drugs was linked to an increase in patient mortality.” Skylar sits on her bed and pats the mattress. “Dennis, my mom’s boyfriend, worked for them.”
 

I pretend I didn’t see her invitation and lean against the wall instead. “Was he involved in the scandal?”

She nods. “He was part of the group that falsified data to keep the human trials open. He testified against everyone else to stay out of jail.”

“Wow. When did this happen?”

“I found out about it the night that you and I… The night we…”

The night we promised to love each other forever? The night I gave myself to you completely, heart, mind, body and soul? The night I foolishly believed you did the same? That night?
 
“The night we had sex?”
 

“Yeah.” Skylar takes a trembling breath. “Mom called me right after I’d snuck back inside my bedroom window. She told me to take a taxi to Denver International Airport and come home. But she wouldn’t tell me why.”
 

“What are you saying? That you guys went into some sort of witness protection program or something?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Every muscle in my body tightens. I can’t believe she didn’t trust me enough to tell me what happened. “I wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“I know that. But Mom said anyone I told would be in danger. She told me I couldn’t even tell Uncle Will and Aunt Lori. I wanted to call you, Rowdy. More than anything. But I couldn’t risk your life just to say good-bye.”

The room spins as the world realigns itself with a new reality. Skylar didn’t desert me. She was trying to protect me. All this time I believed she was hiding from me because I was accused of murdering my own mother.

Fuck. She doesn’t know what happened. She didn’t even know that Mom was dead until Wade blurted it out. “Did they catch all the bad guys?”

“They’re all in prison. Well, everyone except for Dennis.”

“But, you’re safe now, right?”

“I was never in danger.”

“Why did you come here?” Skylar spent every summer in Eldorado Springs with Boone’s family, but she lived in San Diego.

“You know why.” Hope flares in her eyes.
 

She looks so young, as if time stopped for her when she disappeared. It sure as hell didn’t stop for me. I feel so fucking old.
 

“You shouldn’t have come back.”

Her chin trembles as tears leak out the corners of her eyes.
 

“Skylar…” I hate hurting her but I don’t want her to hurt me either. “It’s been four years. People change.”

“God, that’s exactly what Boone said.” She leans forward, clutching her pillow even tighter. “What happened to you that night after you went home?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” My voice trembles. I sound like a child. I feel like one, too. A frightened, needy, abused, vulnerable little kid. And I fucking hate it.

Rowdy pushes off the wall and starts to pace. He keeps his gaze trained on the floor in front of his feet, for the most part. But every third or fourth step, he looks up and glances at me. I know he’s trying to decide whether or not to tell me about the ‘really bad thing’ that Boone hinted at yesterday.

Rowdy slides both hands into his hair and tugs. I hate to see him get so worked up, but if I let him off the hook now, I might not get another chance to crack through that tough shell of his. So I wait in silence and let the tension build.

He stops in the middle of the room and drops his hands. He takes three deep breaths then turns to face me. “Why do you care about my past?”

“Because I care about you.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t looked it up online.” He glances at my laptop, sitting open on the desk.

“I googled your name every day and never found anything online.” Great. If that doesn’t sound like an obsessive stalker, I don’t know what does.

“I didn’t turn eighteen until after it happened, so they kept my name out of the papers.”
 

“Can’t you just tell me about it?”

“No.” His voice cracks. The color drains from his face. Whatever it was, it must have been huge. His shoulders slump as he exhales. “My mother’s name was Blaire Jones. Not Daletzki.”
 

“Oh.” None of us wanted to risk running into Rowdy’s stepdad so we always hung out in the canyon or here at Boone’s house. When I thought of his mom at all, she was just ‘Rowdy’s mom.’
 

“You don’t mind if I look up the article?”

Rowdy presses his lips together. “Good night, Skylar.”

I don’t want him to leave, but he obviously doesn’t want to stay. And I want to read the article. “Goodnight, Rowdy.”

Typing the correct information into the search engine makes all the difference. The link to the archived article pops up on the top of the first page.
Keith Jones, 39, was arrested early Saturday on charges he fatally shot his wife during an argument at the mobile home they shared in the unincorporated town of Marshall, near Eldorado Springs. He remained jailed after being arraigned on criminal homicide and other charges in the Saturday night shooting of 38-year-old Blaire Jones.
Mrs. Jones’s 17-year-old son was also taken into custody in connection with her death. The minor’s name has not been released due to his age. Police say Mrs. Jones’s son claims he came home from a date and found his intoxicated stepfather pointing a gun at his mother. He claims the gun accidentally discharged while he was trying to wrest it from Mr. Jones.
 

Jones claims his stepson was already armed with the weapon when he barged into the bedroom where he and his wife were having a heated discussion and threatened to use the gun on Mr. Jones. He attempted to disarm his stepson who then willfully and purposely fired the weapon.
 

Police waited to file the charges because there were no other witnesses and they needed to determine from autopsy and other evidence whether Mr. Jones or his stepson fired the weapon and whether or not it was accidental.

My vision blurs as tears fill my eyes. This is so much worse than anything I could have imagined. I close the page and erase the search history then shut off my laptop.
 

The pipes rattle as the shower starts. Boone was already in his pajamas when we got here so it must be Rowdy. I wait for him in my doorway.

Steam pours into the hall when he comes out of the bathroom. He’s backlit, wearing nothing but a towel around his narrow hips.
 

I run to him without thinking and plaster myself against his damp chest. I bury my face in his shoulder before I have a chance to consider the consequences. “God, Rowdy. I’m so sorry.”

He pries my arms off his neck. His voice is hoarse. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know. But I still hate that it happened. And I’m so sorry about your mom.”

“Stop.” He speaks through clenched teeth. His fingers dig into my wrists as he yanks my hands over my head and pins them to the wall behind me. His pupils dilate, swallowing his irises until they’re nothing but an ice-blue rim.

A shiver runs from my head all the way down to my toes. My heart thumps against the base of my throat as he leans in. He’s going to kiss me.
 

There are at least a hundred reasons for me to stop him, but I can’t seem to think of a single one. I can’t stop trembling either.

Rowdy presses his forehead against mine and whispers my name. His voice is rough, deep and seductive. “Skylar?”

“Yes?”

“Go to bed.” He lets go of my hands and steps back.

I take a slow, shaky breath, pretending I don’t want to scream. Or cry. Or punch him in the mouth. Or crush my lips against his. Or rip that towel off his body.

Rowdy turns and strides down the hall to Boone’s room. Every muscle in his back is hard and sharply defined, as if cut from marble.

I steal a pair of sweats out of Boone’s bottom drawer then sink onto the spare twin bed. I prop my elbows on my knees and stare at my shaking hands. I can’t believe I almost kissed Skylar. Or how badly I wanted to. I don’t kiss girls. Not anymore. She ruined me in more ways than one.
 

There’s a quiet knock at the door. I squint my eyes closed. I don’t want to deal with this right now. Or ever. I don’t want Skylar to see me like this.
 

“I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in whether you are or not.” The doorknob turns.
 

“Please, don’t.” I stand up, but Skylar’s already through the door before I can take a step.

She crosses the room and wraps her arms around my waist. Every muscle in my body tenses as she presses her face against my shoulder. Her tears fall on my collarbone then slide down my bare chest.

“Did you read it?”
 

She nods.
 

“The part about how I was…involved?”

“It was an accident.” She slides her hands up to my shoulder blades and leans back to study my face. “It wasn’t your fault.”

I close my eyes and try to block it out, but it’s too late. Blood roars behind my ears as the darkness descends…
 

The blast of the Colt Python stabs my ears. Pain explodes in my wrist and elbow. The hot metal scent of gunpowder stings my nose. A rusty iron taste coats my tongue and invades the back of my throat. A fine, pink mist hangs in the air.
 

Keith screams at me. But I can’t hear him over the ringing in my ears. Mom is lying on the dirty, grey carpet. There’s blood everywhere. It’s leaking out of a quarter-sized hole between her blank, staring eyes. Pouring out of the back of her head. Fanning out across the floor. Dripping down the wall.

The ringing in my ears fades. I hear sirens, getting closer, louder. Keith wraps my fingers around the gun. He jams the barrel under my chin. He’s going to kill me. He pulls the trigger.

Click.
 

Keith swears and opens the cylinder. It’s empty. Red and blue lights flash through the window. I should be relieved, but all I am is numb.

“Rowdy?”
 

He’s trembling. And as much as I’d like to believe it’s because the only thing between my breasts and his naked chest is a thin layer of cotton, but I don’t think he even knows I’m here.
 

I pat his cheek.

His gaze shifts, as if he’s searching for me, but can’t see me.
 

“What’s wrong? Rowdy. Please, look at me.”

“Skylar?” He’s dazed and confused, but at least he recognizes me.
 

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t look like
nothing
to me. Where’d you go?”

He blinks then rubs his eyes. “I just zoned out for a second.”

“It was more like ninety seconds and you were completely out of it. What’s going on?”

At first, I don’t think he’s going to answer me. When he does, it’s with a flat, emotionless tone of voice. “Involuntary recurrent memory.”

“That sounds serious. What is it?”

“Flashback.” He blinks again and shakes his head quickly, as if trying to fling water out of his hair. He seems more in control now. “And it’s potentially career ending so don’t mention it to anyone.”

“You’re okay, though, right?”

“Did I do anything weird?”

“Like what?”

“If you have to ask, that means I didn’t.” He smiles, but it looks more like a grimace.

“What triggered it?”

“Stress.”

“I shouldn’t have pressured you.”

He sighs. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“Why? Did you think I wouldn’t understand? That I would judge you?”

He shrugs. “I thought it was the reason you disappeared.”

His admission stabs me through the heart. I can’t believe he didn’t have more faith in me.
 

“When you didn’t return any of my calls, I got worried. At first, I thought Will and Lori were keeping us apart, but they were just as baffled about your sudden disappearance as I was.”

My chest aches as I imagine their concern. “What did they say?”

Rowdy’s lips twitch into a slight smile. “They quizzed me pretty hard about what happened between us that night.”

Blood rushes to my face. “What do you mean?”

“They thought you might have left because we had a big fight or something.”

“What did you tell them?”