Page 32 of The Fence Between Us

The mayor smiled fondly. “He is. Dylan and Skye make quite the couple—a very striking, influential couple. Their children will be political prodigies.”

Rabble felt sick. These men, her father being one of them, discussed Skye like she was nothing more than a prized breeding mare. Not like the gorgeous and caring woman he knew. Not like she was her own person. Like she was less than human.

“You’re disgusting.” Rabble’s rough voice struggled to contain the rage simmering beneath the surface.

Mayor Wellington grinned, evil practically seeping from him like a dark poisonous cloud. “Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, Skye is part of a much bigger plan than a person like you could ever understand. Considering she’s already wasted her potential, the least she could do now is give Dylan some children. Voters love it when their representatives have kids. Makes them more relatable.”

Rabble stood taller, his fury roiling, spreading, and threatening to boil over. That Max and Dylan saw the profession Skye chose and thoroughly loved as a waste of potential spoke volumes on how little they knew her. How little they cared. Skyehad a beautiful, generous soul; she’d give everything to anyone who needed it and more to those she loved. That these people, who held so much power in her life through the years, couldn’t see that was beyond despicable. That roiling sensation pitched around in his stomach, making him nauseous.

Dylan curled his lip. “You need to pack up the band of riffraff you brought with you and get the hell out of town,” he said, his voice menacing as he mentioned Rabble’s friends, his brothers.

Rabble uncrossed his arms, though his fists clenched at his side. He pulled himself up to his full height and stared down at them. “Or what?”

Dylan opened his mouth to respond, but Max spoke first. “I paid you to get your ass out of Shiloh Hills and never come back. That was the deal. I suggest you keep your side of it.”

Movement at the corner of the building caught Rabble’s attention, flashing in his peripheral vision. His stomach plummeted and landed somewhere on the ground with what remained of his hope as Skye stepped into his line of sight. Ice filled his veins and a howling sounded in his ears as he turned , just in time to catch the destroyed expression on her face and the wrecked depths of her blue gaze.

Chapter 20

Skye

Skye’s ears rang as she tried to process what she heard. Devastated didn’t begin to cover it. The solid foundation of her entire world collapsed beneath her, and she free-fell into an abyss of swirling darkness. She always had a protective net, something to keep her from hitting rock bottom and never recovering, but any safety measure she’d constructed over time had snapped, leaving her flailing and screaming into nothingness.

She locked her eyes with Rabble’s for only a moment. In his stormy gray gaze, she saw the same wreckage she knew her own reflected. How dare he have the nerve to look as crushed as she felt! He had kept this secret for years, to protect her. In the process, he completely and totally wrecked her. For years and years, Skye thought she was the problem, like she was the damaged and unwanted one. The one who would never be good enough.

Skye stepped back, tripping over her feet before turning and bolting away. She ran as far and fast as she could. She made itto the end of the street, the sound of angry voices following her around the corner as she ran toward the cottage district. She bypassed her cottage and let her feet carry her where they willed. Her shoes slapped against the black-topped road that led out of town until she couldn’t breathe and her side pinched with pain.

Bending over at the waist, she rested her palms on her knees and gasped for air. She couldn’t remember if she was supposed to bend over or lift her arms above her head. She didn’t care. She was fleeing everything she thought she knew. She ran for the naive girl who still believed in fairytales and happily ever after; for the girl who had so much love to give and just wanted to be loved in return; for the girl who had cautiously lifted her head these last few days, hoping that maybe this was it. That girl now lay broken on the ground, right along with the pieces of her heart.

Skye’s knees gave out, and she dropped onto a patch of grass to the side of the blacktop, continuing to take in great wheezing gulps of air and praying she didn’t hyperventilate. What was wrong with her? Was she not enough? Was she not worthy of love? Had everything been a lie, their time together, talking late into the night, their lovemaking that was so full of passion and emotion that Skye had very nearly cried? Did Rabble truly not love her?

None of that felt right. Then again, how could she trust her heart to tell her what was right and wrong if the traitor led her down this path of grief?

She didn’t know how long she sat there, gazing unseeingly at the tall waving stalks of wild grasses that grew along the road before finally struggling to her feet. Shadow from the reedy plants cast shadows on the asphalt. Several hours must have passed as she’d sat still, her mind a swirling mess of self-doubt, loathing, and heartbreak. Her limbs, her head, her heart, all of her felt so very heavy.

The walk home took much longer, her tired legs hauling her body forward one exhausted step at a time. Her strength flagged as she reached her cottage, unlocked the door, and collapsed onto her favorite reading chair, face down. Shoes still on, she surrendered to the blissful unconsciousness sleep would bring, which she desperately needed and wanted.

Early morning phone calls roused her from her chair. She slid her eyes open, the lids dragging and gritty. On top of the emotional pain curling inside her, Skye could barely move after sleeping in such an awkward position. The chair was perfect for reading but not so great for long nights of restless sleep. She groaned, lifting up onto her elbows, and squinted at the phone screen, still groggy from sleep. Apparently, her phone had a busy afternoon and night while she’d been busy drowning.

The majority of the missed calls and unread texts were from Rabble, a distressed plea in every single one. She listened to each voicemail, her own personal kind of torture. At times, she could have sworn his voice sounded choked and thick, that maybe he was on the brink of tears like she was. His despair seeped through the speaker, wrapping around her sorrow and adding to the weight pressing down on her.

Her friends had also left voicemails and dozens of text messages, some just asking for a sign of life. They each wanted to know how they could help and if she needed anything. She didn’t have an answer for them though.

Skye created a group text to her friends and typed, “I’m not okay, but I will be.”

Her fingers faltered as she pressed the buttons to send the lie. She wouldn’t be okay. That simply wasn’t possible.

Even Declan had called, though he hadn’t left a message. Her mother had left several hateful voicemails mixed in with the entire mess, and Skye seriously contemplated pitching her phone in the trash can.

She peeled off her dirty clothes, dusty and sweaty from her impromptu afternoon run the previous day, and left them in a heap on the bathroom floor. The mirror above the sink reflected her blank and hopeless eyes back at her and she took in the heavy purple stains under her blue eyes. The way the previous night’s tears left trails down her cheeks to the corners of her downturned mouth. Stepping into a scalding hot shower, she prayed the water would wash away the grime that to clung to her skin and soul.

With the water beating down on her, Skye sat under the spray with her knees pulled to her chest and let the tears spill over again, blending in seamlessly with the rivulets that ran down her face. Too soon, the water turned cold and goosebumps formed across her body. She toweled off and lay on her bed, clutching the terry cloth fabric to her chest. Breathing deeply, Skye stared at the ceiling fan as it made its never-ending circle above her.

Despite knowing how painful it would be, she wanted to see Rabble. With the anger and sadness firmly set in, she needed to speak with him, to hear in his own words what possessed him to make a deal with the devil, with her father.

Skye dressed in her comfiest pair of leggings and a favorite T-shirt, a tie-dyed souvenir from a charity 5k run she participated in years ago. The familiar shirt added a layer of comfort and security, and she finally thought maybe she could face Rabble without turning into a whimpering pile of mush. She brushed the stubborn tangles from her hair before she braided it back, feeling more like herself than she had since Rabble returned to Shiloh Hills.

Knowing she needed to speak with him turned out to be an entirely different monster than actually messaging him to set up a time to meet. She turned on her cleaning playlist and plugged her phone in, glancing at the screen intermittently as she tried to gather the courage to text him. Although she procrastinated,she justified taking her time by being productive, tackling the mundane task of washing dishes.

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