Page 37 of Auctioned to the Lumberjacks (Auctioned)

“I’m gonna put Sleeping Beauty to bed. Sunday tomorrow.”

West nods, guzzles another slug of water, and returns the glass to the sink.

As I stoop down to scoop Skye from the safety and comfort of Finn’s lap on the couch, I catch her sweet and now almost familiar scent and lift her with ease. She’s like a feather in my arms, already half asleep, and she stirs a little before encircling her arms around my neck. Her pale skin is warm against my rough and calloused hands. I tread carefully into the hallway and along to her room.

From her window, the lingering glow of the moon is fading and I can already hear the first of the early morning birds begin their dawn chorus. What time is it? She doesn’t have a clock, and I can’t see any sign of the burner phone.

I reach out to draw back her cover and lay her gently on the bed below. I grab the blanket that West left for her, hanging idly over the back of my rocking chair, and spread it over her slim frame.

Her body is curled in on itself in a protective pose. I watch her as she stirs and settles, and my eyes wander over to the window. The curtains are undrawn, and the space behind the glass is as black as Satan’s heart.

Casting my gaze back down, I’m caught off guard to see Skye’s eyes wide open. She reaches out for my hand, which I accept.

“I didn’t abandon her, Jack. I would never, could never. I can barely breathe without her. I’m glad I told you.”

I sit with her words. Shivering with the cold settling around the cabin, I inhale deeply, closing my eyes.

“And when we do what we do together, it doesn’t mean I’ve switched off because I don’t care. But … it just helps me to almost express the pain that I feel. I can channel my energy, my helplessness, my frustration, if that makes sense.”

It makes perfect sense. Connecting to disconnect.

A crushing image of my mum standing helplessly in my bedroom doorway while my stepfather dragged me out of my closet by my hair and stamped on me with his goddamn boots flashes into my mind. He struggled to remove his belt from his pants before beating ten tons of shit out of me. Disconnecting was the only way to get through it because crying never did a goddamned thing. Mom never tried to stop him. The look on her face was calm, cold, indifferent.

I flinch at the recall, and Skye sits up in response. She doesn’t say anything, but her presence is a comfort I couldn’t have predicted.

“I’m not proud of what I said to you.” It’s the closest thing to an apology that I can manage.

Skye nods, clutching the blanket high around her neck.

“I know what it’s like to live in fear, Skye. My mother. She wasn’t like you. She stood by and let my stepfather beat me.”

“Jack…” Her expression is as broken as I feel.

“She’s got what she deserves. She’s rotting in a care home somewhere. I hope her guilt is eating her from the inside out.”

“And what about your stepfather?”

I shrug. I don’t know where he is because if I did, I’d put him six feet under with no remorse.

“You are not on your own, Skye. Not anymore.”

I lay her back down under the cover and tuck the blanket around her. She closes her eyes, her lids flickering gently. My body shivers as I stroke her soft hair.

Although the morning is approaching already, I’m going to throw on something warm, get under the covers of my bed, and try to get the sleep I so desperately need. Silently, I leave the room, closing the door and turning towards my end of the hallway. Skye is breathing steadily before I even leave the room.

Once I’m in the familiar four walls of my space, I light a lamp and pick up the clean cotton boxers and my favorite fleece shirt that Skye placed in a laundry pile. She folded everything with military precision. West will be pleased.

I wonder if her ex, Carter, forced her to be like this.

Asshole.

Skye isn’t like any woman I’ve met before. She’s prepared to sell herself to three strangers for a whole year to save her only daughter. Hallie is one lucky little girl to have a mother who loves her so much.

As I lay myself down wearily, stretching out to fill my bed. My heavy eyelids flicker, my body sinks slowly into the mattress, and my overactive mind is forced into shutdown.

But as I pray for sleep to take me over, I find myself grappling with an emerging thought, rising from the darkest crevices of my mind.

Bill Tappin.You owe me.

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