6. Cian
Cian
“ I won’t?—”
I held up my hand. “Not listening.”
“But I promise?—”
I started to laugh. Even Sean snickered.
“You took my glass! What do you think I’m gonna use?”
I shrugged as I watched the last screw being drilled into place. “Maybe you’ll strip the wallpaper and turn it into some sort of weapon.” Stepping back, I nodded. “That should do.”
Sean tugged on the new bars that now covered the two windows in Skylar’s room.
I had found the old glass for the one, and we had fitted it in and nailed it shut.
Long, heavy screws held the bars in place.
We even added ones to the outside she couldn’t possibly remove.
Skylar didn’t have a chance of getting out now.
“Yep.” He jumped off the stool he was standing on, not even remotely bothered by the glare Skylar was throwing his way.
“Both of you are assholes.”
I laughed at the fact that Sean had fallen off her good list and joined me on the shit one.
“If you’d stop trying to break out, we wouldn’t have to do this,” he pointed out.
“Well, I’ve got nothing left to use, so I guess I’m stuck here with you two… gentlemen. ”
Sean and I exchanged glances. That was far too easy.
I looked around the room. Aside from the furniture, some books and clothes, there was nothing for her to use.
We’d scoured the room and taken anything I thought she could possibly find useful.
I narrowed my eyes at her, but her gaze remained downcast, her bandaged fingers picking at the torn backpack sitting beside her.
I reached over and grabbed it, shaking the few things still left in it on the top of the bed.
Skylar shrieked in dismay as I picked up a small, flowery bag.
“What’s in here?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Nothing!”
“What?”
“Nothing, I swear!”
Not believing her, I pulled the zipper open, my eyes widening when I saw the contents. Without another word, I zipped it shut and tossed it to her.
“Told you,” she muttered.
I shook my head, snatched the drill, and stormed out of the room.
In the kitchen, I grabbed a beer and went into the small front room, flinging myself onto the couch.
I swallowed a large mouthful as I watched the storm swirling outside.
Sean had brought a ton of food and a few more things for Skylar with him, making it back before the snow hit.
Listening to the wind, I was glad we’d gotten the windows done.
It was going to be far too cold to have only put a sheet of plywood over the hole.
I didn’t want Skylar cold—because she’d be even more of a pain in the ass if she were sick.
That was the only reason.
Sean joined me, beer in hand. He tossed something on the coffee table.
“What’s that?”
“The last of the contraband.”
I leaned forward and picked it up. “Fuck’s sake. The butter spreader?”
He nodded with a laugh. “She grabbed it during the commotion the other night.”
I shook my head. Neither of us had noticed it missing. “What the hell did she think she’d do with it? It’s as flimsy as shit!”
“She’s fucking clever. She’d think of something. With that, some chewing gum, and string, MacGyver would probably figure out how to make a small bomb.” Then he laughed. “Of course she’d probably only singe her eyebrows off with it, but she’d fucking try.”
I had to laugh with him. I’d give her that—she’d try. Her ideas simply never panned out well.
“Where was it?”
“In the cushion. She kept looking that way, and I decided to check. I think we’re good now.” He paused, the bottle partway to his lips. “What was in the bag you threw back at her?”
I shuddered. “Tampons.”
He threw his head back, laughing. “You looked like they were gonna bite you!”
“Fuck’s sake, Sean. Can you imagine her with PMS? God, this better be over before we have to deal with that. I’m not sure either of us would survive.”
“Good thing I bought chocolate. I think it’s the only way Julia makes it through some months.”
I rolled my eyes. TMI, but good to know.
T he house felt unusually quiet. Outside, the wind picked up, and the snow became heavier. I clicked on the screen to check on Skylar. She was sitting on the end of the bed, staring at her open door, and not moving. I glanced up from the laptop and frowned at Sean. “Why is Skylar’s door open?”
He shrugged. “She’s not going anywhere, Cian.
I put her coat and shoes by the front door.
She knows it’s storming. We’re both here, and we can see her door from either room.
It’s not as if she can sneak down the hall and outside.
I told her she could sit with us if she wanted or stay in her room.
” He paused and shrugged. “I thought she might relax a little if she could move around. We’ve had her locked up for a couple of days. ”
“You think she’ll come out?”
“I guess we’ll see. I checked her cuts after you, ah, left the room so quickly, and I had a little chat with her. I think she’ll cooperate.”
“Is she okay?”
“I think she scared herself a little today. She’s tired as well, since she was up all night in escape mode.”
“Her cuts?”
“Sore, but they’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” I exhaled deeply. “One move, though, and the door is locked.”
“Understood.”
A short while later, Skylar hesitantly slipped into the room.
She had a book in her hand and, after looking around nervously, made a beeline to the corner of the sofa and curled up.
She didn’t say anything, opening her book and beginning to read.
Sean looked over from his paper then put his head back down.
I kept going through the file I was working on, glancing up every so often.
A couple times, I met Sean’s calm gaze. Once, I caught Skylar’s eye and was rewarded with the smallest hint of a smile.
I felt my own lips curl up in response before her head dipped down again.
I felt a flicker of warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.
A few times, I saw her glance out the window, but she wasn’t looking for ways to escape.
Instead, she looked almost grateful to be inside and out of the weather.
Maybe Sean was right and she was ready to cooperate.
Folding the paper, Sean stood and stretched. “I’m going for a nap. Will the two of you behave?”
Skylar nodded and I snorted.
“Get out of here, old man.”
Silence filled the room after he left, broken only by the gusts of wind outside and the muted turn of the pages from Skylar’s book.
Looking over, I noticed she appeared uncomfortable.
She was holding the book awkwardly, trying to use as little of her hands as possible. “Do your hands hurt?” I asked quietly.
Her startled gaze met mine. “A little.”
I stood. “Stay.”
I went into the kitchen, coming back with water and some Tylenol. “These will help.”
Her fingers grazed mine as she took the glass, and I grimaced. “Skylar, your hands are freezing.”
She shrugged. I sat on the table in front of her and gently wrapped my hands around her smaller ones. For a minute, she was tense, but then she relaxed and let the heat of my skin soak into hers. I noticed she had her feet tucked under the cushion. “Are your feet cold, too?”
She nodded. “My socks aren’t very thick.”
I left the room again, returning with a thick pair of mine, which I handed to her. “These will warm you up.”
Her nervous eyes met mine as she took them. “Thank you.”
Leaning forward, she struggled to put them on.
Realizing how sore her hands must be, I sat back down and lifted her leg into my lap.
I pulled the sock onto her foot, then swiftly did the same with the other one.
Feeling how cold her feet were even through the socks, I briskly rubbed them before setting them back on the couch.
“Better?”
She nodded.
I took in a deep breath. “I know you don’t like or trust me, but I don’t want you cold or scared to be in the same room as me, Skylar. If you need something, ask. Okay?”
“Okay.” Her voice was a whisper.
“Good.”
She bit her lip. “Do you have a pen?”
I was confused. “A pen?”
She held up another small book. “Sean brought me some crossword puzzle books. But I don’t have a pen.”
I hesitated, and she smiled at me mischievously. “I’ll give it back. Promise.”
Chuckling, I nodded. “They’re in the kitchen.”
“Oh, I can sit at the table. That’ll be easier.”
I picked up my laptop and followed her into the kitchen.
I put a few pens in the middle of the table, letting her pick which one she wanted, and sat down.
She sat beside me, opening her book. I tried to concentrate on the screen, but my eyes kept drifting back to her.
She was looking rather adorable. She was wearing the sweatshirt I’d given her the night she got here over her clothes, no doubt for added warmth.
It was far too big on her, yet I liked seeing it hang from her shoulders.
Her hair was down, a dark ribbon of silk down her back.
She chewed absently on the end of the pen, her small teeth nibbling the plastic.
When she would fill in a word, she held the pen awkwardly in her fingers, and I noticed the letters were messy and a small grimace crossed her face at times as she wrote.
She frowned. “What’s a five-letter word for garden decoration?”
“Hmmm. Bench?”
“No.”
“Fence?”
“No. It starts with a G.”
“Gnome.”
“Oh. I never thought of that as a decoration.”
“What do you think of gnomes as?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Scary little devils. I don’t like them, and I certainly wouldn’t put one in my garden.”
I laughed.
“Anything else?”
“Four-letter word for a flightless bird.”
“Kiwi.”
She offered me a smile. One so genuine and warm, my breath caught in my throat.
“You’re good.”
She frowned as she wrote it in the book. I couldn’t take seeing her in pain anymore.
“Can I help?”
She looked up. “What?”
“We can do it together. I’ll fill in the words, so you don’t hurt your hand writing.”