29. Chapter 29
Rabble
R abble glanced at his watch and frowned.
He needed to get changed. He was supposed to be at the parade to watch Elyza’s float make its grand debut.
She’d convinced Declan and Dash into dressing up and riding on the float.
Though it made him a bit uncomfortable that she’d read him so easily that day in the bridal shop when she’d asked him to help, he thanked his lucky stars Elyza backed off of him without asking the types of questions that made Rabble’s skin itch.
Though he didn’t feel exactly jovial, Rabble made sure to throw the twins some good-natured Ken-doll jokes, which they returned with anticipated hand gestures. They were both polite enough not to point out that Rabble’s attempts at joking were half-assed at best.
Despite the fact that he was running out of time and he had places to be, he didn’t want to move from the spot where he stood. He couldn’t seem to make his feet move in the direction of his truck, parked just yards away.
The crude cross he’d constructed still held together, just barely.
He’d whittled the sticks until they were smooth and straight and tied them together with twine that now frayed and hung loosely, allowing the horizontal stick to slant downward.
Maybe he should just be happy it lasted all these years.
Sitting stoically at the base of the wooden cross, the rock Skye painted with his mother’s name and date of death seemed untouched by the years and weather.
Rabble was thankful for that. He made a mental note to commission a true headstone, now that he owned the property.
On the way to the cabin, Rabble gathered a bouquet of wildflowers that were probably flowering weeds, he could never tell the difference. He’d grabbed whatever he thought looked nice, though he had no idea what any of them were called. Skye would know; he was certain of that.
Rabble had been up before the sun, driving around town and down the backroads on the outskirts; the sky had not even turned gray with early morning light.
He doubted the chickens had been crowing when he’d hopped in his truck and decided to go for a drive.
With no destination in mind, Rabble just drove, letting his mind wander along the yellow lines painted on the asphalt.
He’d ended up at the property, at his mother’s grave, before he realized what he was doing.
“Hey, Mama.” Rabble’s voice cracked. He felt like the sixteen-year-old boy he sounded like, the one who just needed his mother and hadn’t been ready to be without her.
“I know it’s been—a second—since I’ve been by. Sorry about that. I’ve been running from my roots for a while now. Not that it’s done me any good.”
He laid the bouquet on the ground at the base of the cross, next to the light-purple rock, purple because Skye knew his mother’s favorite color. Of course, she did.
“I’ve been keeping busy.” Rabble prayed his mother could hear him because it sure felt nice to talk to her again. He told her everything, from his days in the service to meeting and bonding with Dash and Declan. Finally, he told her all about Skye.
He started with those first years after they’d moved in, “You probably already knew this, but we used to meet beneath the fence nearly every day. I thought I knew everything there was to know about her.”
He scoffed, “Leave it to me to think I had her all figured out. I’m so proud of the woman she became. Not that I have a right to be.”
“I’m completely in love with her,” he whispered, his words carried away on a warm breeze like his mother had gathered them up and whisked them away. “I’ve always been in love with her. And that scares the shit out of me.”
He could practically hear his mother’s voice scolding him, “ Language ”. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, a vain effort to keep his lips from wobbling.
Rabble’s thoughts turned to the way Gayle and Dylan had used Skye, had taken her choices from her, and forced her into a situation no person should ever be in.
She’d just been through one of the most horrifying experiences, orchestrated by two people who said they loved her but used her anyway.
The last thing Skye needed was for Rabble to show up, professing his love and assuming she would return his affection because they had a history.
“You’d still like her, Mama. She would talk flowers with you all day long, especially the native ones.
She teaches kindergarten, and she loves those kids like they’re her own.
She’s got an infectious smile and a bubbly laugh.
” Rabble found himself beaming at nothing in particular as he described Skye. His Skye.
His smile faded, and loneliness settled over him, smothering and suffocating him in the summer heat.
He felt locked inside a glass box, able to see everything and everyone around him but unable to join them, unable to break past the barrier that kept him in the past. That kept him angry.
Angry at the drunk driver who took his mother too early.
Angry at his father for not giving a shit about his only son.
Angry at Max and Gayle for taking away the only girl he’d ever loved, the best friend he’d ever had, and Dylan for thinking he could possess Skye like a trophy.
As if struck by a bolt of lightning, Rabble stumbled backward.
He was angry at himself too. For being a foolish coward who didn’t tell Skye how he felt.
For not chasing after her harder. For not being there when she needed him.
He’d taken time for himself to think and given her space, and maybe that was the wrong answer.
He wanted to be there with her, be there for her, and dry every tear she cried.
Better yet, he wanted to keep her tears from falling to begin with.
The anger built and boiled and then ever so slowly drained from him into the ground, dissipating as the beginnings of a plan stirred in his mind.
“I’ve been so angry for so long,” he choked out. “I don’t want to be angry anymore. I want to be the man Skye needs, the kind she wants.” He wiped at his eyes.
“I’m going to do something crazy,” he said, no longer knowing if he was still talking to his mother or anyone in particular.
The wind kicked up and swirled around him with laughter and light.
He could practically see his mother’s sweet smile, then her mischievous grin, and the twinkle in her eye before she did something unexpected.
Oh, his mother was here, alright. And she was just as excited about his next move as he was.
Feeling lighter than he had in some time, Rabble gave his mother’s grave one more look, then headed back to his truck. His phone rang, vibrating in his pocket. When he pulled it out, Declan’s name lit up the screen.
“Hey,” he said, a bit confused and a lot concerned. He wasn’t late yet. He’d checked the time repeatedly while speaking with his mother.
“Rab, we’ve got a problem. Get your ass to the parade, ASAP.”
Before Declan finished speaking, Rabble ran for the truck, his heavy boots thudding in the grass and gravel. His tires spun, kicking up stones, and he sped toward the warehouse, breaking every speeding law in Shiloh Hills.