38. Chapter 38
thirty-eight
Boston
It’s been a week since I last saw Skye. A week since AJ’s—since I put my foot in my mouth. Again.
At this point, I’m pretty sure she’s done with my crap because there’s been nothing but silence since.
No texts. No calls. Zip.
I know she was supposed to come back from New York Sunday night, but she didn’t show for her usual Tuesday shift at Riverfront. Which means she’s either sick or—and this is the more likely option—she’s avoiding me.
Even Cassie noticed.
Now it’s Thursday, and I’m losing the battle with my thoughts. Every time my phone buzzes, I check it. Every time I look, I feel stupid.
She doesn’t owe me a damn thing. Not a second of her time, not a single thought in her head. And most definitely not her forgiveness for talking shit about—and to—her boyfriend. No matter how righteous my intentions were.
Still, it doesn’t ease the heaviness in my heart.
It’s been a hell of a depressing day, and Skye’s absence—not just physical, but emotional—is… crushing.
I pull into the familiar, nearly-empty parking lot in front of Riverfront, shut off the engine, then push my car door open.
The heat hits me the second I step out of the car. It’s one of those miserable end-of-July afternoons where the air feels thick enough to chew. Even the asphalt looks like it’s contemplating adding another heat crack to its already vast collection of imperfections.
I head toward the entrance expecting to hear the usual chaos of dismissal, but it seems everyone’s still inside, waiting in the air conditioning for their rides.
I make my way toward the entrance just as the front doors swing open.
And there she is.
Clipboard tucked beneath one arm, Skye walks a little girl toward a waiting SUV. She’s smiling at something the kid says, her auburn ponytail swaying as she crouches to give one last goodbye before sending her on her way.
For a second, all I can do is stare, my chest tightening.
Then aching.
The SUV pulls away.
And Skye’s eyes lock on mine.
Alright, Boss, move!
I force my feet onward until I reach the sidewalk. And Skye.
“Hey Stormy,” I breathe. Her name on my tongue is like that drink of water after a week in the desert.
Her expression softens. “Hey.”
For a second, neither of us says anything. Just stand there looking at each other while the heat settles over everything.
Then she lifts her clipboard slightly. “We missed you today.”
My heart stumbles.
Don’t.
“Yeah, I…” I scratch the back of my neck. “Had some stuff to take care of.”
She nods, but her eyes linger on me a second longer than they probably should. “Everything okay?”
“Depends on your definition of okay.”
Her eyebrows lift.
“It’s just been a long day,” I say vaguely. “How about you? Did you have a good trip?”
She shrugs. “Depends on your definition of good.” Her smile doesn’t reach beyond her lips.
I frown, immediately suspicious. But I stop myself from digging. I’m not violating her boundaries.
Another beat passes, a single bead of sweat rolling down the back of my neck.
The heat is oppressive.
“Actually,” I say, glancing toward the building, “I just stopped by to see Cass and Bronx for a minute.”
The second the words leave my mouth, Skye’s face falls.
“Boss, I’m sorry,” she says. “They’re already gone.”
My stomach sinks. Of course they are.
“You missed them by maybe five minutes.”
I close my eyes briefly. “Well that… sucks.”
Skye nods, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “It does.”
I shove my hands back into my pockets and nod once. “I’ll see you next week?”
“Of course.” There’s something in her voice that sounds dangerously like anticipation. I don’t allow myself to read into it.
I take a step back. Then another. Finally, I turn around. No point hanging around making things weirder than they already are.
But the second I do, she calls after me. “Boss?”
My feet stop as if someone pulled the emergency brake.
When I turn back, Skye’s standing in exactly the same spot, her clipboard hugged against her chest. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Fine,” I say automatically.
And Skye just… looks at me, her expression unchanged. Disbelieving.
I try to look away. Toward the parking lot. Toward my car. Anywhere but those bluest of blue eyes.
And then, before I can stop myself, the truth slips out. “I just got done looking for an apartment.”
Her whole posture changes in an instant, face brightening. “How’d it go?”
How I wish I could share good news.
I rake my hand through my hair. “It didn’t.”
“You didn’t find anything good?”
I rub a hand over my face. “Oh, I did. Found the perfect place. Nice little two-bedroom townhouse. In Cassie and Bronx’s school district. There’s even a playground, and they have this after-school center.”
My chest tightens all over again. The place really was perfect.
“That sounds amazing, Boss. Why didn’t it work out?”
I grit my teeth, jaw working. “Credit check.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Her nose wrinkles. “That doesn’t make sense,” she says gently. “Is your score low?”
I’d smile at the innocence in that question if the truth wasn’t so damn depressing.
I shake my head. “More like non-existent. I don’t have a credit history. Like… none. When you’re homeless at seventeen, nobody’s adding you to a credit card or co-signing a loan.”
“What about your car?”
“I bought it with cash. It was really the only way I could do it.”
I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. “It takes years to build credit. I never had those years. And now I’m stuck in this loop where I can’t get a credit card or a loan because I don’t have an address… but I can’t get an address because I don’t have credit.”
“Boss, I… I never even thought about any of this. I’m so sorry—”
“Skye,” I cut her off gently. “None of this is your fault.”
She goes quiet for a moment.
“But, there are options for people without credit, right?” she asks carefully. “Like housing help? I know my mom has a whole—”
“Yeah, there are,” I cut in. “But those are usually temporary or heavily subsidized.”
“And that wouldn’t work?”
“It would if it was just me,” I say. “But it won’t fly with the court. I need to show a judge I have stable housing if I want custody of Cass and Bronx.”
I swallow, my throat suddenly tight. “Some landlord might overlook the credit thing if I could put down a huge deposit. But I can’t. Not with legal fees and everything else. It’s… complicated.”
“God,” she murmurs softly. “I had no idea.”
“Most people don’t,” I say. “Most people will tell me to just go back to school, better myself, work harder.”
I laugh bitterly.
“But that’s the thing. I do work hard. I work sixteen hours a day, six days a week just to survive. How am I supposed to squeeze school into that? See, I can’t pick myself up by my bootstraps if I don’t even have boots.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“There might be programs I could try. But I don’t have the luxury of time to see what works. I need to show a judge I can take care of my siblings. Now. I can’t screw around and hope something sticks.”
“I don’t even know what to say,” Skye whispers.
“You don’t have to say anything,” I tell her. “Life just… is what it is. And I’ll do what I can.”
The silence that follows isn’t awkward. Just heavy.
Skye hugs her clipboard a little tighter while I stare at our feet.
Finally, I force a small smile. “Well.” I clap my hands together once. “That was depressing.”
A surprised laugh escapes her. “A little.”
I shrug. “Apparently I was due for a minor existential crisis.”
“Only minor?”
“Okay, moderate.”
That earns me another smile. A real one this time. God, I missed that smile.
I clear my throat and take a step backwards. “I should probably head to AJ’s. See if they’ll let me inhale a burger before my shift starts.” I nod my chin at her. “How about you? What’s next on your schedule for today?”
Her smile dims a fraction. “Spa.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That sounds terrible. My condolences.”
“With Archer’s mom.”
Ah.
“My condolences,” I repeat more seriously. She giggles, which immediately sends my heart into revolt against those newly imposed rules about keeping my distance from Skye. “Alright, I better get going.”
She nods, then does the one thing that always makes my brain glitch—she rises up on her toes.
And hugs me.