10. Cian
Cian
S ean was out cold, but he was fine—his breathing deep and even.
I stopped in the kitchen, grabbing some water and chugging the entire bottle.
My mouth felt like it had been dragged across the Sahara for days.
I took a couple more bottles, leaving one on Sean’s nightstand.
He’d need it when he woke up. I also knew once he was fully awake, Skylar was going to witness his anger.
If she thought I was scary when upset, wait until she got a load of him.
Back in my room, I found Skylar right where I left her.
Sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, I opened the water and handed it to her, studying her as she sipped at it.
Her eyes were downcast, her skin shockingly pale.
The cut on her forehead was a vivid red gash against the white of her face.
Her bruises, which I’d thought were fading, once again seemed so dark against the pallor, and she looked completely exhausted.
Sitting up all night, planning on drugging people and running, did that to a person, I supposed. I ignored the little voice that whispered, “ Being scared and upset for days on end didn’t help either .” That voice could fuck off right now. I was suddenly furious with her.
“Where are the pills?”
Her head snapped up at the sound of my voice. I knew my anger had crept into my tone, but I wanted her to hear it. What she’d done was incredibly stupid. When I thought of what would have happened had her plan succeeded, I shuddered. Sean and I would still be passed out, and Skylar would be dead.
“In my room.”
I stood, holding out my hand. “Let’s go.”
She ignored my outstretched palm, rose to her feet silently, and walked in front of me.
I tried hard not to notice how my shirt looked on her or the way it touched the back of her thighs as she moved.
I especially tried hard not to notice how her hips swayed as she walked or the way the back of the damp T-shirt clung to the curve of her ass.
I’d never removed her underwear, putting her into bed with them wet from the bath.
The fabric clung to her curves like a second skin.
I shook my head, knowing I needed to ignore those feelings right now.
I followed her into the bathroom, watching as she unzipped the small bag I’d looked in the other day. She pulled out a small tube and opened it, spilling some pills into her palm. I pulled on her wrist, tipping her hand over the sink and washing the pills down the drain. She didn’t say a word.
“Are there more?”
She hesitated. “No. I have no more sleeping pills.”
I grabbed the bag, ignoring her gasp and dumped it on the small counter.
I dug through the small cylinders and grabbed three that weren’t still in wrappers.
Skylar reached for them, but I pushed her back, shaking my head, glaring at her.
Something in my expression was enough for her to actually step back and lower her hands obediently.
I yanked the containers apart, pouring the thick white pills into the palm of my hand, studying them, shocked.
“Skylar,” I began through gritted teeth, “where did you get this much oxycodone?”
She shifted restlessly, her voice low and shaky. “My dad.”
“Why do you have it?” I looked at her. “It’s highly addictive.”
“I don’t take it.”
“Why?” I demanded again. “What were you planning on doing with them?”
“I sold a few when I was really hungry,” she whispered.
Jesus. She was selling drugs to eat. On the street. Alone.
“Do you know how dangerous that is?” I hissed, not even bothering to try to hide my anger this time. “Someone could have easily killed you over these!”
Her eyes flashed at me. “Sometimes, Cian, when you haven’t eaten for a few days and you realize it’s either sell a few pills or your body, you choose the thing you can live with a little easier.”
I struggled to stay calm, breathing in a few deep breaths.
I reminded myself she was here—safe. She wasn’t on the street anymore, and she never would be again.
Simply thinking about what could have happened to her made me nauseous.
For the first time, I was grateful she’d snuck into the warehouse that night.
I kept my voice soft when I spoke. “Is that all you were doing with them?”
She didn’t answer. I lifted her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Was this part of your exit plan as well?” I asked.
She pulled back, her chin jutting out in defiance. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.” She tried to grab for my hand. “Give me those!”
I held my hand up higher. “No.”
“Please, Cian—I might need them!”
I gripped her arm with my free hand, pulling her against me. “You. Won’t. Need. Them.”
With one flick of my wrist, I tossed them all in the sink, the running water washing them away.
She began to sob, pummeling my chest with her fists.
I kept my arm loosely wrapped around her and let her cry, watching to make sure all the pills were gone.
Once I was satisfied, I shut off the water.
I spun her around, sitting her on the closed toilet seat, and checked the rest of her bag, making sure there were no other surprises.
I hunched down in front of her. “Are there any other pills?”
She shook her head.
“Skylar.”
I waited until she lifted her chin so I could look into her eyes. She was a terrible liar, and her eyes betrayed her all the time. “Is there anything else you have that would harm you?”
“No,” she cried out.
She was telling the truth.
I pulled her against me, rocking her. “Good.”
S kylar shifted at the table, her fingers drawing small circles on the wood.
Over and over, she repeated the pattern.
After she stopped crying, I’d left her in her room to get dressed in dry clothes and told her to meet me in the kitchen.
I let the soup warm up again, knowing we needed to eat before we talked.
Skylar had assured me, when I asked, that the pills had been in the bowls only—she’d added the soup over the pills. I knew she had to be telling the truth since she had eaten soup when we did and she had been fine.
I set a bowl in front of her. “Eat.”
She didn’t say anything, only picked up her spoon and did as instructed. As a precaution, I waited a few minutes, making sure she was really eating before I started. I saw her eyes fall to the gun on the table, and I tapped the handle.
“I get dizzy, and I’ll shoot you in the foot to stop you running again.”
Her spoon hovered in midair as she stared at me, her eyes wary.
“Would you?” she whispered.
No, I wouldn’t. But I didn’t tell her that.
I shrugged. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make you safe.”
“Shooting me will make me safe? Your thinking’s a little messed up, fuckwit.”
I bit back my smile.
Ms. Mouthy was coming back.
“Drugs are bad for your brain.” I smirked at her. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression, ‘Just say no to drugs’?”
Her cheeks reddened, and I winked at her. I wanted her to smile.
She rolled her eyes and kept eating.
I ate two bowls of her delicious, drug-free, soup. Then I pushed the bowl away, knowing I should really save some for Sean.
If he’d eat it again.
“That was really good,” I praised her quietly.
“Thanks.”
“Did you cook a lot at home?”
She looked up, her eyes sad. “Yes. My dad liked my cooking.”
“Tell me about your dad.”
“He was a great guy.”
“He must have been to have a daughter like you.”
Her bottom lip quivered a little. “I loved him.”
“When did he die?”
“Almost a year ago.”
“You’ve been on the streets ever since?”
“No, for about six months.”
“Tell me, Skylar. Tell me your story.”
“My mom and dad divorced when I was young. I lived with my mom most of my life, but my dad was still involved. I saw him on holidays and the summer. He always remembered my birthday, and he called a lot, just to check in.”
“Did you have a good relationship with your mom?”
She shrugged. “We were close, but we were more like friends than mom and daughter. She was always forgetting to pay the bills or pick me up from school, buy groceries, that sort of thing. I had to grow up fast and be the responsible one. When I was sixteen, she got remarried. I didn’t like her husband, Jack, or the lifestyle, and I decided to go live with my dad for a while. ”
“Lifestyle?”
She wrinkled her nose. “He was much younger than she was, and he was in a band. She followed him around. She kept pulling me out of school, and we’d stay in these awful places. I hated it, so I called my dad and asked if I could come there to live, and he said yes.”
“How did that work for you?”
Her eyes became soft. “It was good. I had to repeat a grade because my mom had moved around so much the last year, I kept getting behind. I was older than most of the kids, so I pretty much stuck to myself. But Dad was great. He was quiet but a good parent. He tried, anyway. He lived in a really small town and his house was on the outskirts, so we were pretty isolated, but I liked it. It was just me most of the time, but I was okay with that. He worked a lot.” She drew in a deep breath, slowly exhaling.
“Once I caught up and I graduated, I went to work to save up money for college.”
I was surprised. The way she described her father, I was certain he would have been saving money for a college fund for her. “Your dad couldn’t…help you with that?”
Her lips tightened, and she curled her hand into a small fist on the table.
“He’d been sending Mom money all the years I was with her.
He’d set up an account when I was born, and she’d add whatever he sent.
She told me once she hoped she could add to it eventually as well.
I remember seeing the bank book one day, knowing that the money in it would let me go to college. But…”
“But?”
“She spent it.”
“ Fuck .” I breathed. “All of it?”