Page 46 of Keeping Skylar
Kirstin:Well, if he looks anything like her, there’s a good chance he could be just as hot.
Me:According to Hannah, they look strikingly similar.
Mila:Shit, Sky! He’s probably sexy as fuck! You have to send us a sneaky photo once he moves in. Preferably one without a shirt on.
Me:I will do no such thing!
Mila:Booooooo . . . You suck!
Kirstin:Mila, don’t you have a boyfriend?
Mila:There’s no harm in having a little peek.
Okay, so this isn’t exactly how I pictured this conversation going. I was hoping for some advice or at least a little reassurance that I’d made the right call. Instead, I’m getting hit with a flood of questions and cheeky comments about how ‘hot’ and ‘available’ my new roommate is.
I know my friends mean well, and their comments are completely harmless, but I honestly can’t even begin to entertain the idea of sex right now—especially not with a potential roommate who also happens to be my friend’s twin brother. That would be a complete disaster waiting to happen, and I’m definitely not ready for that kind of mess.
Wanting to escape the flood of jokes and innuendos about Heath and me, I lie and say I have a packed schedule ahead. Then, without waiting for a response, I quickly exit the chat.
Now, what was I supposed to be doing? Oh, yes, laundry. Ugh, fucking laundry day!
CHAPTER 19
Kaden
“How about a refill, Jase?” I call out to my best friend, lifting my empty shot glass in the air. I’ve been sitting inside Hawkins Bar for the last hour, delaying the inevitable return home after leaving the office for the day.
For the past few weeks, this has been my nightly routine as things between Lucia and me grow increasingly strained at home. With the tension continuing to build, I’ve found myself heading to the bar straight after work far more often than I should.
It began with minor disagreements—like forgetting to take out the rubbish or bringing home the wrong takeaway. But over time, those small annoyances escalated into full-blown arguments—about the messy state of the house, or me stumbling in drunk yet again.
No matter what the reasons were, they always ended the same way: either with us ignoring each other or fucking the anger out of our system. This is what our relationship has become, a relentless, vicious cycle that we can’t seem to break.
A few weeks after Skylar left, Lucia and I decided it was best for me to move in with her. There was no way I could stay in the house I’d bought with my wife, surrounded by the ghosts of our life together. I couldn’t bear to live there without her. So, I put the house up for lease, packed everything into storage, and moved in with Lucia—bringing only the essentials.
Life has been a chain of disasters ever since. I still haven’t recovered from Skylar’s disappearance—I think about her constantly, and the ache of missing her only grows stronger each day. I’ve reached out to just about everyone she knew, but no one’s saying a damn thing. My calls, texts, and emails go unanswered, and I can’t even see if she’s doing okay because she’s deactivated all her social media accounts. Trying to find my wife feels like searching for a grain of rice in a soccer field—damn near impossible.
Sky’s family and friends all hate me, and they’ve made it painfully clear that they want me out of her life for good. But I love my wife—so much that I’m desperate to bring her back home and beg for her forgiveness. I’ve even considered hiring a private investigator just to see if she’s safe. But I know if Lucia ever caught wind of that, there would be absolute hell to pay.
So, that brings me to here, drunk at the bar, where I spend most nights drowning my sorrows and trying to escape the shitstorm I created.
Jason watches me from behind the bar, likely weighing whether it’s time to cut me off after my fifth shot of whiskey. Or is it my sixth? Who the fuck knows!
“Going to have to cut you off after this, bro,” he says sternly as he slides my glass of liquid courage across the bar counter. God knows I’m gonna need it for when I come face to face with the wicked witch at home.This is what my life has come to!
I wave him away, ignoring his warning, and snatch my glass from the counter for a generous sip, savouring the smooth oaky taste as it burns its way down my throat. “Ahh, nothing quenches your thirst quite like good ol’ Gentleman Jack,” I mutter to myself.
As I glance around the room, I nearly tumble out of my chair, saved at the last second by my unexpectedly quick reflexes.
Jason growls at the sight and shakes his head in irritation. He’s been doing that a lot lately—looking at me like I’m a goddamn inconvenience. “Go home, Kaden. You’ve had enough for one night,” he commands, his tone firm and authoritative.
“I’m not done yet,” I slur, lifting my half-empty shot glass to highlight my point. “I still have my drink to finish.”
Jason huffs out a sigh. “Why not just drink at home? It would save you the hassle of getting an Uber every night and spare Chris from having to drive your car home again. It’s becoming quite an inconvenience, you know,” he snaps.
“I just need a break from home life, is that so much of a crime?” I ask rhetorically. I take another small sip of my whiskey as his gaze lingers on me.
“What’s going on with you lately?”
