Chapter 3
SKYLAR
Eventually, I did end up emailing the Colberts about us running late. Thankfully, they answered, reassuring me they’d be waiting.
True to their word, someone is here.
Even though it’s late now and the bright blue sky has turned dark gray, a tall, burly man waves us in, clicking a button to open the electric gate into the tiny town.
The red-and-white paint on it is chipped and flaking. Past the gate, the main road isn’t paved. Main Street, also known as the museum, holds nothing but dirt and a line of exhibits.
Instantly curious, I peek around for the family homes and the restricted livestock area, like in the pictures on their website, but I can’t find either. They must be tucked further back, hidden on the other side.
It’s kind of sweet how they live where they work. Charming, even. The corners of my mouth hike up at the thought.
Bronwyn doesn’t seem to share the sentiment. She groans quietly the closer we get, throwing her head back and growling in that way she does when she’s extremely unhappy.
Yikes. I hope she’ll end up enjoying it instead of resenting me for coming here.
“Hey.” Easton lowers his window as we idle beside our guide, whose name wasn’t listed on the website.
“Hey there.” The man’s jeans, flannel, and leather cowboy boots are worn, his smile wide as he returns my wave. “I’m Jett. How y’all doing?”
“We’re good,” Easton offers when Bronwyn rudely ignores him. “Where do we park?”
“Right over here.” Jett gestures toward what appears to be the first exhibit.
The Rover crawls forward as Bronwyn mutters, “Can’t wait to get out of this shithole.”
“Give it a try.” Excitement rushes through me, and I’m practically bouncing in my seat as I see the old machinery in the first exhibit. I press my nose to the window, drinking everything in. “You’re gonna love it.”
“A hot bath, that’s what I’m going to love.”
“Soon,” Easton soothes her.
“Why not now? I’m not feeling this place at all,” Bronwyn huffs out when he parks the car. “Maybe we should leave.”
At that last remark, my chest truly deflates.
First, because Easton might listen to her and hightail it out of here.
More importantly, though, why won’t she give it a chance? Is she giving up on me that easily?
Sigh.
I won’t try to convince her.
Guess I should be grateful she’s here with me at all. That I’m not back home, alone with the knowledge that my twin wants nothing to do with me.
It’s fine. It’s fine.
Instead of talking it through, they exchange a long, meaningful look, having a silent conversation without me.
I’m not hurt.
Mostly because something else pulls at my attention.
Goosebumps rise on my arms as my excitement twists into dread, my breath catching. I’m not sick or anything like that. I’ve experienced this feeling before when Bronwyn and her friends stalked me to the bathroom at school before humiliating me.
But Bronwyn’s here. Her bullying days are over.
Which leaves me with…
Oh my God. Someone else is stalking me. I’m being watched.
I should be terrified, but instead, I like it. I can’t help the small smile that tugs on my lips.
“Thirty minutes and we’re out.” Easton drapes his arm over the back of the passenger seat as he turns to me. “Thirty, Skylar. Okay?”
“Yes, I promise.” My teeth graze my bottom lip when I pause. “Um…Bronwyn, you sure it’s okay?”
“Absolutely,” she says kindly, but doesn’t look back at me.
I’m about to resign and tell her we can totally drop it when the SUV rattles.
It’s Jett, pounding on the passenger window.
Easton curses, low and breathless. Bronwyn and I scream so loudly that I think our ears are going to pop.
“Hello again.” Jett’s not bothered in the slightest, beaming at us as if his grin is a permanent fixture on his face.
As I try to steady my pulse, regret twists my insides. Screaming at someone when they’re just trying to be friendly and welcoming is rude as hell.
We’re guests here, yet we treat him like a freak.
“I’m so sorry.” I’m out of the car in a second, forcing a smile. “We didn’t mean to overreact.”
“Skylar,” Bronwyn hisses behind me from her seat.
No, no Skylar. We owe Jett an apology, and I’m giving it to him.
“No harm done.” He extends his hand, and I take it.
His huge, calloused fingers swallow mine as we shake.
I introduce myself as politely as I can. I won’t slip up again and make a face at his smell, that mix of pie and something decaying. After we greet each other, he steps back a couple of paces, giving Bronwyn room to get out and join Easton and me.
When Jett offers Bronwyn his hand, I shoot her a pointed look. God, I hope she gets the message and doesn’t make some comment about this place, or him, or the smell.
I don’t want to upset her further, but I also don’t want to upset Jett.
When neither she nor Easton shakes his hand, heat spreads up my neck.
Despite being painfully embarrassed on their behalf, I infuse excitement into my voice. “So, Mr. Colbert—”
“Jett.” His smile is the biggest I’ve ever come across. Unwavering. Unsettling too. Stop it, Skylar. “Mr. Colbert is Papa. Grandpa too. But even they don’t like to be called that.”
“Gotcha.” I glance behind me at the sounds of Easton and Bronwyn murmuring. “You guys?”
Nothing.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Jett, wringing my hands. “They’re really tired. We’ve been driving for hours.”
“We get that all the time.” He sounds honest and truly unfazed.
My relief from that lasts for a second. That’s it.
The next, the hair on the back of my head stands on end and my skin prickles all over again.
I’m hot.
Everywhere.
There’s no doubt about it anymore. Someone’s eyes are on me. Probing into me.
That pull has nothing to do with Jett, who I can see isn’t paying attention to me. He’s over there, already pushing a button to close the electric gate.
His gaze is trained on the exhibit he’s about to guide us through. “Let’s start.”
Discreetly, I pinch my arm, forcing myself to snap out of it, whatever it is, and say, “Let’s.”
Jett launches off, offering information and stories about the first exhibit. It’s a gorgeous piece of tanning equipment from the 1800s, mildly rusty but otherwise in perfect shape.
Bronwyn and Easton don’t pay him much attention, trailing behind us as we go. Easton’s brow is furrowed as Bronwyn mutters something about not having a signal out here.
I hate the fact that, much like them, I can’t focus on Jett. He’s giving me thorough explanations of each exhibit, but I’m somewhere else entirely.
My gut tells me I’m not being watched anymore.
I’m being hunted. Tracked down, preyed upon.
Impossible.
“I hope y’all don’t mind the smell.” Jett chuckles as we reach the last exhibit. By now the sun’s gone down, and the streetlamps throw a flat, white light across his face. “Livestock.”
As if on cue, a loud moo rises from the cluster of houses just past the exhibits, the part I couldn’t see when the tour began. Tarps cover the livestock area, the foul smell making my nose twitch.
“So.” Jett claps his hands together.
“So.” I flash my teeth, aiming for a look that says nothing’s wrong over here, no one’s judging you, especially not me.
“At the end of each tour, I let visitors wander around on their own.” The corners of his eyes crinkle, like even they are trying to smile.
“Gives you a chance to soak it all in without my blabbering. Come find me in the house without the tarp, next to the big-ass farmhouse, when you’re done. I’ll open the gate for you.”
“I’d actually like you to blabber a little more,” Bronwyn mutters, her arms lifted as she waves her phone in the air. “You know, about the lack of signal out here. I need my GPS app, and it won’t work without Wi-Fi or any kind of goddamn internet connection.”
Embarrassment is a cold shower washing over me. I don’t even think before slapping her arm. “Bronwyn! What the hell?”
“It’s okay,” Jett sing-songs while Easton walks in circles with his phone up too. “I’m aware that the signal can get shaky around this place. You’ll have no problem getting it in the next town, though. Just drive twenty miles straight ahead, and you should be good.”
“I’m so sorry, sir.” As kind as Jett is, my newfound sixth sense tells me to stay put. Not to get too close to our guide, especially when it’s dark. “We’ll be out of your hair in no time.” I pull two twenties from my jeans pocket. “Thank you. For the wonderful tour.”
“A tip? Nonsense.” Jett waves me off. “And I told you, call me Jett.” Is he talking louder? Why? “Stay. Take a look around. Soak everything up. You’ve come so far, might as well, right?”
“No.” Bronwyn won’t put her arm down, hopping in place and huffing. “We’ve soaked up enough.”
Since Jett’s ignoring her rudeness, I do the same.
I’m ignoring her, period.
Jett’s right. We are already here, and sadly, I haven’t been paying attention while he was giving us the grand tour.
“I’m staying. Easton said I have thirty minutes.” I straighten my spine, challenging my past bully and praying for her to understand. “It’s only been fifteen. Fifteen more won’t hurt, Bronwyn.”
Her feline eyes snap to mine. They narrow to slits, her eyebrows lowering on her forehead.
Easton places a hand on her shoulder.
“Let’s go look at the old machines. The ones I’ll get us to our”—he leans into her ear—“secret room.”
His words work on Bronwyn like magic.
She smiles as they stroll over to one of the machinery exhibits. She still holds her phone, though.
I turn to my host, and he’s…gone.
Relief washes over me before shame curls tight around my lungs. I’m going to be a doctor someday, dammit. Hoping people won’t come too close? That can’t happen.
That’s not who I am.
“Maybe driving around with Bronwyn rubbed off on me,” I mutter under my breath.
Maybe. Or maybe I’m just an asshole.
Or paranoid.
No, I’m not.
This feeling of being spied on won’t let go. It clings. It’s real.
I can sense someone’s out here. Him. Or her. But where?
Since no one’s coming for me, I sigh, turning to examine the last exhibit, the one closest to me.
Photographs of the town’s community members snag my attention, and I lose myself in Colbert’s past. With each decade, there are fewer of them. Why?
I’m hyper-focused, trying to make sense of the timeline to the point that I can’t hear my twin and Easton. Nothing seems more important than crouching low to inspect that last photo.
“Where did all the townspeople go?” The last word has barely left my mouth when the feeling—that feeling—returns.
Violently so.
Whoever it is, he’s behind me. Crowding me with his presence.
A he, not a she. I just know it, the same way I know it isn’t Jett.
Jett smelled like pie, not bleach. Jett didn’t make my stomach flutter, and my body shiver at the same time.
Curiosity and self-preservation rage inside me.
One inner voice tells me to look up, to catch the man’s reflection in the display window. The other insists I close my eyes, like a kid refusing to check the closet in case the monster really is hiding in there.
My ribs feel like they’ll crack because of how hard my heart is slamming against them.
Eventually, fear prevails. I end up squeezing my eyes shut.
It doesn’t stop arousal from building inside me. It’s never happened to me before, but it’s happening now. This sense of familiarity is as if I’ve been to this man’s bed a dozen times before, and my body recognizes him.
Heat pools between my thighs. More than heat…need. My pussy clenches, greedy for fingers that aren’t there.
His fingers.
I still can’t bring myself to open my eyes and look at him. Can’t, even though I want to.
Why won’t he do something? End this misery already?
No one’s holding him back. It’s just him and me out here.
I gulp. I fear what he could do to me. I ache for it.
Worst of all, I have a feeling that if I look at him, he’ll snap. He’ll wreck me.
Either that, or I’ll be forced to face my sickness. My attraction to—what? A shadow? A monster lurking in some small town in the middle of nowhere?
This is crazy. Crazy and dangerous. I should play it safe. Get up and run.
I don’t.
My foolish mouth opens. My throat works.
And instead of screaming, I whisper, “Hello?”