Page 36 of The Fence Between Us

“I thought I’d save it for a rainy day.”

He sucked on the inside of his cheek, refusing to let the sob out as it crawled up his throat. His sorrow must have shone in his eyes though because she patted his shoulder again, and studied the clear sky, then him, “I’d say it’s a pretty rainy day, my dear.”

That sob he’d tried so hard to hold back, choked out of him and she ruffled his hair with a hand the way she used to when she’d said her piece, before standing slowly and wandering back inside, closing the door silently behind her.

It took several deep breaths before Rabble could think clearly enough to close the lid to the ring box and slide it into his pocket. Then, he unwrapped the triple peanut butter and jelly sandwich and chuckled. Mrs. Basket always knew what to say when he was having a hard day. Famished, he devoured every bite.

Later, when the sun began to sink behind the bed and breakfast, Rabble overheard Elyza’s muffled voice in the dining room, something about Skye not returning anyone’s messages.

He frowned. That didn’t make sense. Sure, she had every right to ignore him. But Skye spent most days worrying about everyone else but herself. Even if she needed time to be alone, she’d never leave her friends to panic over her, not for this long.

Fear became a living, breathing demon inside him. That voice in his head, the one that told him when he needed to be scared out of his mind, the one that kept him alive in the military, screamed at him to get to his feet.

Running inside, he threw his coffee in the kitchen sink, not stopping when he heard the telltale crack of the ceramic mug shattering against the metal tub, and sprinted into the dining room where Dash tried to calm his sister and Declan stood protectively in front of Bekah, her shoulders shrinking inward.

“I’m on it,” Rabble said, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “You guys stay here with them.”

Dash pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Kellyn, make sure she’s okay. Just in case.”

Rabble nodded. While Declan reassured Bekah that no one had tripped the cottage’s alarms, that her ex had nothing to do with whatever was going on with Skye, Rabble bolted for the front door. He jammed his truck key in the ignition and peeled off toward Skye’s cottage without bothering with trying to call. She hadn’t answered anyone before, and he doubted she’d start answering for him.

The alarms in his head kept blaring, getting louder the closer he got to her home. He parked on the curb; his front tire having jumped the curb entirely to sit atop the grass of the yard. Rabble took the concrete steps to her door two at a time. He swung his fist up to knock, stopping just shy of tapping his fingers against the wood. The door sat ajar from its frame, leaving a thin gap where the latch hadn’t caught.

His whole being froze, and the voice in his head went from screaming to radio silence. He reached for his sidearm, only it wasn’t there. A rookie mistake, he cursed to himself. He wouldn’t let that stop him from breaching the house right then and there.

With two fingers, Rabble slowly urged the door open, listening past the squeaking of its hinges for any noise from within. Hearing nothing, he pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped into the small living room, which she artfully put together. Her home looked well maintained, cared for. But in the center of the floor lay her phone, abandoned, the screen cracked as if someone had stomped on it. His breath caught in his throat.

Quickly, Rabble cleared the living room. Against his training, he rushed through the open rooms and followed a short hallway to the single bedroom kept neat in a lived-in way with wrinkles in the sheets and clothes on the floor. The bathroom appeared the same way.

The kitchen also seemed to be in order, aside from the candle left burning on the counter. The sink was clean. But in the left basin, her keys lay in a heap, making the alarm bells in his head ring double-time. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed Dash’s number, put the speaker to his ear, and prayed to whichever gods might be listening that his brother answered quickly.

“Yeah,” Dash said, his simple greeting coming through on the first ring.

Rabble’s voice cracked and scraped like he hadn’t used it in days. “She’s gone.”

“We’re on our way.”

Chapter 22

Skye

Skye swore she could feel every nerve ending, every synapse in her brain burning and freezing simultaneously. A steady and awful pulsing behind her eyes made her wish for the oblivion she just woke from. She cracked her eyes open, her eyelids heavy and gritty as if sand dragged beneath them, and her cotton-like tongue made her long for a glass of water. She swallowed several times, wishing her mouth didn’t feel so strange. Lifting her head, she scanned the room, trying to gather her bearings. Gradually, the throbbing in her skull subsided to a dull ache, and she rolled carefully to the side. Her hands and knees hit cream carpeting. Dazed, she let out a gasp. A fair amount of disgust and nausea mixed together, creating a horrible sense of déjà vu.

The pale-pink wallpaper that graced the four walls taunted her with familiarity, as if welcoming her back to a picturesque prison. The golden antique metal-framed bed waited in the corner by the window, untouched since she’d moved out. The same large, mirrored vanity perched beside the closet door. Sherose onto her knees and peeked out the window, recognizing the giant leafy green bush that grew by the sterile, horrible fence. She had no idea how or why she was in her childhood bedroom.

On shaking legs, Skye stumbled across the room to the painted white door that led to the house. She grasped the doorknob and twisted. Nothing happened. She pulled, turned, and yanked on the handle, but the door didn’t budge. Skye’s breath came in short gasps as she struggled to think clearly.

Why was she at her parents’ house? None of this made any sense. Still unsteady, she hurried back to the window and peered down. Two stories below, the ground glowered at her. She’d always been too chicken to risk sneaking out of the second story opening, but she might try today. Compared to being abducted and trapped in her parents’ home, maybe a two-story drop would be nothing.

She wracked her brain, searching for any reasonable explanation that might keep her from panicking. Yes, someone had locked her in her old bedroom, but these were her parents after all. They loved her and wouldn’t hurt her.

And yet the utterly terrified part of her mind didn’t care if Mother Teresa held her prisoner. As a grown woman, Skye had her own life and agenda. She rolled her neck, hoping to ease some of the stress that bunched in her shoulders and didn’t help her headache. She reached up to rub her neck and hissed through her teeth as her fingers found a stinging pin-sized spot between her neck and shoulder

Her eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, my word. Oh shit.”

Everything that happened came back in a rush. Dylan at her house. Their fight. The reason why that spot on her neck hurt.

“He drugged me,” she whispered, her voice rising with hysteria. “He fucking drugged me!”

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