Depravity

Chapter 5 Skylar

SKYLAR

My heart’s pounding. I swear it’s about to jump out of my chest and land at my feet any second now.

Yes, it’s impossible. Yes, it’s something people say when they’re being melodramatic.

But I feel it.

The pounding against my ribs is as real as the green charm in my hand.

Curiosity forces my eyes open to look at the gift, though that’s all I can do. Bringing myself to look at him is impossible.

Just the thought of it unsettles me.

This entire day does.

As if on cue, my body crumples. I plant one hand in the dirt for balance before my head gives up, too, bowing low.

A shuddering breath tears through my throat.

I strain to listen for any sound, for any hint that the man behind me is still there.

Any sign that I need to run.

“Hello?” I repeat. I beg.

Whoever this is, they have to answer. Have to give me something. Some proof that this is okay. That he’s not a monster.

Except I don’t need him to tell me anything. I know there’s something wrong with him. Gifts don’t get thrown at you.

Gifts are offered. Given with a smile.

When we were kids, our parents showered us with presents. Their apologies came wrapped in boxes for being called to the hospital during my recitals or Bronwyn’s basketball games. For the nights when the nanny was the one holding us through nightmares.

This person, this man, lurked behind me. Scared me half to death before tossing this thing I’m clutching.

And yet…the butterflies in my stomach, they’re fluttering. Aggressive. Wanting.

This isn’t right, me craving his dark presence.

A threat is a threat.

“Please, if you could…” The lump in my throat, God, it’s so hard to breathe. I cough, wiping any emotion from my voice. “Please tell me you won’t hurt me.”

Please tell me the first time I’ve wanted a man like that won’t end with me dying.

Silence.

More silence.

As the seconds tick by, my pulse settles. The heat at my back is gone.

That’s how, even without looking, I can tell my stalker isn’t there anymore.

What I can’t tell is whether I hate it or am grateful for it.

“What the fuck!” My sister’s scream tears through my thoughts. “No. No, no, no!”

Bronwyn’s in trouble.

For some unfathomable reason, I cling to the charm as I jolt up and take off in the direction of her scream. I was right. Whoever was here with me has vanished into the shadows.

Maybe he isn’t a monster after all? A monster would kill me, right?

Enough of him.

Bronwyn needs me.

Cold sweat trickles down my spine as I sprint through Main Street. It runs down my face too, my eyes stinging with it.

Don’t care. I push harder, running faster than I ever have, kicking up dust.

Gotta be prepared for the worst.

Dammit. My scalpel’s in the SUV. I’ll have to be quick. Grab it from the car, make sure no one comes close enough to hurt her.

A few more feet and I’m there.

“Bronny.” Easton sounds only mildly worried. “Calm down. It’s going to be okay.”

“No, it isn’t!”

“Relax.”

My sister’s screaming, and he’s telling her to relax?

What the hell’s wrong with him?

“How am I supposed to relax?” she squeals just as I reach the SUV, where I find both of them.

My first thought is thank fuck, she’s unharmed.

Without a scratch on her, and with no one other than Easton nearby, air filters back into my lungs. I thought I’d lost her, dammit, but she’s okay. Her lips are pinched as she watches Easton leaning under the popped hood, using his cellphone as a flashlight.

Oh, so that’s what’s wrong.

Shit.

“The car won’t start?” I ask, my voice hesitant.

She snaps her head in my direction, her green eyes blazing. “What do you think, genius?”

Yeah, she’s definitely fine. I’m definitely screwed

“I’m sorry, Bronwyn.”

“What exactly are you sorry for?” She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, the gesture as aggressive as her tone.

“About coming to this hellhole? About the car dying? Or about us”—even where the lamps’ glow doesn’t quite reach, I see her cheeks reddening—“being”—she stomps her foot—“stuck in this town!”

Footsteps echo behind me, more than one set. I don’t greet or even acknowledge them. Bronwyn’s my priority, especially when she’s seconds from losing it.

“I’m sorry.” I move closer, reaching, hoping to hold her hand and appease her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Miss, there’s no need to fuss,” a woman scolds. Her voice is soft. Motherly. And chilling.

What is it with this place? How come every word, every look, feels like it means two things at once?

“No need?” At the sound of Bronwyn’s sharpened tone, I flinch. “No need?!”

“No, miss,” a man who isn’t Jett says in a heavy drawl.

I’m about to finally turn toward them when I remember the green charm.

Hide it. They can never know I gave it to you, a voice whispers in my ear.

Why should it be a secret? One of the Colberts gave it to me. I don’t feel his presence behind me, but it was someone who lives here. I’m sure about that.

It can’t be wrong if he’s part of their family.

Hide it, Skylar.

Fuck. Okay. I listen to the voice and tuck the charm into my bra, in the left cup, closer to my heart.

The movement is as subtle as I hope it is. Neither Bronwyn nor Easton notices.

Only then do I spin to look at them.

Jett’s there, and beside him stands a woman in a washed-out blue prairie-style dress that’s buttoned to her throat. Next to her is a man dressed just like Jett. Must be his parents.

Their serious expressions melt into soft smiles. Their postures are casual in a way that makes my gut twist uncomfortably.

Something about this whole thing feels… I don’t know. Rehearsed.

As if they’ve been waiting for this scene to unfold exactly as it has.

Bronwyn, though, is nowhere near calm. She’s a volcano seconds from erupting.

Her rage is in every breath. Each one is loud, shaky, wheezing.

My face goes a little numb as I remember our last Christmas together. She made the same growly sounds when our parents told her to be less selfish. Less difficult.

She was justified in being upset at the time.

Now she’s just as justified. I really am to blame for us getting stuck here.

“No. Need. To. Fucking. Fuss?” she screeches louder than before.

No one breathes a word.

I hold her hand tight. This time, not to shut her up, but to plead with her to forgive me.

She doesn’t care. “Of course there’s a need! We’re stuck!”

“What seems to be the problem with your car? Maybe I can help.” Jett flips his hands to face up in a peaceful gesture.

Relief stirs within me. He’s going to fix Easton’s SUV.

Maybe I didn’t fuck up Bronwyn’s day after all.

“This is Papa, by the way.” He stays in place, jerking his thumb toward the man first before patting the woman’s shoulder. “This is Ma.”

“Hey,” Easton mutters as he keeps digging around under the hood of the car.

Even I, who’s never so much as owned a car, can tell he has no idea what he’s doing. He’s just poking around, his free hand nudging things at random.

“Nice to meet you,” I add.

“Likewise,” they both say in unison, and guilt eats me alive all over again.

Technically, our tour is over. These people should be resting, not looking into what’s wrong with our car.

And I suspected them.

I really have to start trusting people more.

“I want out of here,” Bronwyn hisses. She scowls at Easton, yanks out of my grip, and crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you done?”

“I…” He sighs, then curses under his breath. “I don’t know.”

His frustration must remind Jett that he’s offered to help. A few large strides, and Jett’s next to him.

Maybe he can tell me who else lives here?

The green charm practically burns against my skin. Shut up.

“Let’s have a look.” Jett does not stop smiling. “Aim the light over here. Yes, perfect. Thanks, buddy.”

“It’s lucky we were still awake,” his mom—Ma—starts. “That Jett heard you over his headphones. Bless his heart, unless you bang on his door, when he’s listening to his music…” She puts her hands over her ears. “My boy loves the screaming ones.”

At her odd phrasing, I cock my head to the side.

“The music.” Her melodic laugh doesn’t put me at ease. “Rock. He loves rock.”

When she says it like that, it almost puts me at ease. “Oh.”

I’m impressed that Jett doesn’t scold her for oversharing with strangers. No Ma, come on, or They don’t want to hear about these things.

He respects his mother.

Either that, or all he cares about is getting us out of here and getting back to his music.

Now I really feel awful. First, I got here late, and now, I’m monopolizing his free time.

Fuck.

“Yeah, and most of all, it’s a good thing you got stuck in Colbert.” Papa stuffs his hands into his jeans, never bothering to help Jett out. He must be exhausted. “When it’s dark out, some folks can get…lost.”

The thought of being alone out there, being one of those faces on the missing persons signs I saw in the gas station… I gasp.

Bronwyn isn’t impressed, huffing before saying, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Papa, don’t scare these folks.” Jett wipes his hands over his shirt as he walks over to his parents, then turns to look at us.

“Y’all three, forget what he just said. It’s safe here.

You’re our guests, please, spend the night.

We might not be able to fix the car, but hey, at least you don’t have to sleep in it. ”

Bronwyn squints. “Why would we sleep anywhere that isn’t the hotel we booked earlier?”

“Oh, honey.” The corners of Ma’s eyes crinkle, her head tilting. “Can’t you see? He can’t figure out what’s wrong with your car.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean, he can’t figure out what’s wrong?” Bronwyn whips her head back to her boyfriend, her voice rising. “Easton, what does she mean, he can’t?”

She’s more than demanding. She’s shrieking. My ears ring.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Easton hooks an arm around her middle, tucking her into his side.

“Not. Okay.” My twin still looks mad enough to bite his or my head off.

The Colberts don’t seem that inviting anymore, either. Their brows are furrowed. Ma’s hands are pressed to her hips.

It doesn’t escape me that the only thing that feels remotely safe right now is the small charm I have in my bra.

“Don’t you worry.” Papa clears his throat, his expression turning friendly again. Almost too friendly, with this wide smile of his. “We have two guest rooms for you to spend the night in. We’ll call a tow truck first thing in the morning. It’ll all be sorted out then.”

“Thank you,” both Easton and I say and sigh with relief.

“No.” Bronwyn’s lips curl in disgust. “No, absolutely not. We aren’t staying here.”

“Stop it,” I plead. “They’re being polite.”

I pray her attitude won’t change the Colberts’ minds. Out here, in the dark, in the middle of nowhere, they’re our best choice.

Besides, it’s one thing to have her insults aimed at me. These people have done nothing to offend her.

“You’ve got some nerve, talking to me like that.” Her eyes cut straight through me. “You dragged me to this place. You’re the reason we’re stuck.”

At her hateful glare, I almost shut up and roll over. The part of me that’s conditioned to hate arguing with her tells me to just take it.

But the charm pressed against my chest emboldens me. It stirs my curiosity too. If we stay here, I might have a chance to meet the man who gave it to me. Talk to him.

“Look.” I gulp, taking a deep breath before adding, “It’s only one night.”

“No. Way. I’m staying in the car.”

“Bronny, listen. We can’t stay out here.” For once, Easton is in my corner. “We could sleep in the back seat, but then where would your sister be? While you and I…?”

“Fine, fine.” She sucks in a deep breath. “We’ll sleep at this place that isn’t the hotel I booked.”

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I’ll find somewhere better than the hotel we booked, and we’ll stay there for as long as you like.” He can do that and more. Easton’s family comes from old money. Oil money. “No expense spared.”

“Babe.” She gasps, turning to him. “Really?”

Shame creeps up my neck that we’re having this conversation here. In front of people who don’t seem to have much more than this town.

“Really. Then…” He brings his lips to her ear. “Then I’ll give you the world.”

Her nod is the most docile I’ve ever seen her.

“It’s settled, then.” Jett clasps his hands, the sound so loud it makes me jump. “Let’s grab your luggage and get you situated.”