Page 75 of Broken Pieces
Good, let her fucking squirm, because stepping back into Skylar’s world… that’ll wreck fucking everything.
It will rip me open.
Bleed me out.
If I can avoid it, I will.
But fuck me, Cassie is making that difficult.
Her mouth twists. She looks away for half a second, chewing the inside of her cheek like it might keep the words in. Then she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket.
“I don’t want to be here,” she says through gritted teeth.
I don’t respond. Just wait.
She drags in a breath. “I fucking hate this, okay? Hate you. Hate that I’m standing here asking you for something.”
Still, I say nothing.
Her head snaps up, eyes burning. “But I need your help.”
“Give me your phone,” I say, extending my hand.
She doesn’t move, only lifts a brow. “What for? You wanna scroll through all the dick pics and rate them out of ten?”
I grunt. “Yeah. Figured I’d kill time while you finish running your mouth.” I flick my fingers. “Do you want my help or not, for fuck sake?”
She huffs, digs her phone out of her back pocket, and slaps it into my palm.
I punch in my number, fast, then hand the phone back.
“There. Don’t call unless she’s in real shit and you’re desperate. And don’t fucking give that number to anyone.”
She stares at the screen, before lifting her eyes to mine. Her glare could flay skin.
“You really are an asshole,” she mutters, snatching the phone as if it’s tainted and then storms off.
I stand frozen, hands clenched, wondering what the fuck I’ve done, letting Skylar back into my world.
I shove off the wall and head back into the workshop, grabbing the first thing I see on the bench. Steel in my palm. Work. That’s the answer. It always has been. Keep my head down, my hands moving. Bury the past so deep it forgets how to crawl out.
I tell myself I gave Cassie my number for Skylar. In case the shit gets too real. Not because I care or that I want to get involved.
I tell myself I’ll keep my distance. That I can. That I fucking will.
But by the time the sun sinks and the shop’s gone quiet, I already know I’m lying.
And still… Cassie’s voice plays on repeat. “She’s drowning.”
And I haven’t got a fucking clue what to do with that, let alone how to be the guy who saves her.
Chapter Twelve
Skylar
Morningcrawlsthroughthecurtains, gray and washed out, the kind that doesn’t belong to birthdays. The light hits the walls faintly, as if even the sun knows this day isn’t worth showing up for.
Last year’s birthday balloon is still here. It’s half-dead, half-alive. Cassie’s gift, not Dolores’s.
