Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Six hours later, Skye’s plane landed at LAX. The first-class ticket to Washington National lay abandoned, and she’d bought a coach ticket headed west. Standing in the back aisle, waiting for the passengers ahead of her to deplane, she stretched out the kinks in her body.
To make matters worse, after her tears had dried, she’d turned her phone off Airplane Mode, only to find several emails and texts from Spencer. Her fingers trembled, and her stomach fluttered as she read his words.
Usually a man who got to the point, he’d flooded her inbox with chaotic ramblings.
As she read through the emails, her stomach sank, and the first flicker of fear emerged.
There were too many creepy photos of her with Ash—them leaving the coffee shop, climbing into the helicopter, even photos with Ben and Edna at the falls. Had he sent someone to follow her?
The last email had a picture of them leaving the courthouse with a demand to know why she’d married Ash. How had he known when it had taken over a day for Forest to confirm that piece of news?
The plane emptied slowly, but soon, she was moving toward the exit and one step closer to Forest. Like a child eager to see a long-lost relative, she wanted nothing more than to push past those ahead and run up the jetway.
It had been ages since she and Forest had seen each other, almost two years, and if Forest had worked his magic, he would be waiting at the end of that ramp.
Her steps lightened as she approached the terminal. Forest was close. She could feel him, and he would take her pain away.
Walking up the exit ramp to the passenger terminal, she texted Forest.
Just landed. Meet U where?
A busy passenger terminal swirled with chaos all around her as she exited the gate.
Children cried. Parents squawked commands that were more often ignored than obeyed.
Bored businessmen clad in rumpled suits clutched briefcases and travel bags.
Overhead announcements flowed in a ceaseless stream of noise and chatter.
Her phone buzzed, and she shrugged her backpack over her shoulder. She pulled her hair out from under the shoulder strap and nearly ran into the man walking on her left.
Look up, my summer Skye.
Her head snapped up. A formidable wall of muscle loomed in front of her and brought her to a halt.
At six-foot-eight, Forest towered above even those who claimed to be tall.
Her scrawny beanpole might have been small and spindly as a child, but he had sprouted into Viking glory with the onset of adult life.
He stared at her with his Nordic eyes that were capable of terrorizing children while simultaneously making their mothers tremble with desire.
He’d grown a beard, making him look even more intimidating. The sun had bronzed him, and his normally pale blond hair had been bleached nearly white by the sun. He’d grown it out since she last saw him, and he had it tied back.
She gave her standard greeting, “Beanpole.”
And he rewarded her with a flash of his immaculate smile.
She didn’t embrace him. Touching brought uncomfortable memories if they were lucky and posttraumatic flashbacks and psychotic breaks if luck failed them.
His fingers clenched with the hug he would never give. “My summer Skye.” His voice rumbled with his deep baritone, a sound as powerful as he was strong. He stepped close until mere inches separated them. He smelled of salt and sea.
He kissed the top of her head, gracing her with his fleeting touch. His lips rested for an eternity of microseconds as they reconnected through a fragile but indelible bond.
“I feel you, my summer Skye.”
Her chest cracked from the pain. Her shoulders curved inward, and she desperately needed a hug, but she didn’t dare move and breach his protective bubble.
Around them, the crowd flowed in a never-ending stream of busy travelers, but for Forest and Skye, the world had stopped.
Her bag slipped from her shoulder, and Forest caught it in his massive hand. Then, he did the unthinkable once again and curled his fingers in the strands of her hair—not quite a touch, but closer than he’d come in years.
Carefully, she leaned in. “I’m good, Bean.”
But she wasn’t, and he knew the truth.
She forced her hands to her sides. His trigger was her touch—a demon controlled but not yet conquered.
“Come.” He released the few strands of her hair with a jerk, as if suddenly realizing how close he’d come. He swung her backpack onto his broad shoulder. “The jet is waiting.”
“How did you get here?” She was dying to find out how he’d managed a pickup off a yacht in the middle of the Pacific.
“I knew you needed me. As soon as we sailed within range, I had a helicopter fly out.”
“What about your great white whale?”
He huffed a laugh. “I gave him the best six weeks of his life. He has no complaints.”
“That’s a record. I’m sorry I ruined it for you.”
In addition to his many quirks, Forest’s hypersexual escapades were legendary.
“Ah, well, he might be worth keeping. We’ll see…”
He gestured down the terminal, and she fell into step beside him.
Leaning close, he whispered, “And he sucks like a Hoover.”
“Ugh.” She scrunched her face and clasped her hands over her ears. She knew from personal experience exactly how hard that was to do. “I don’t need the gory details.”
“I’ve got pictures.” His eyebrows lifted suggestively. The man loved to tease.
“Stop it.”
“Maybe you could meet him?”
Meet one of his toys? She craned her neck upward. Maybe this wasn’t a casual fling. “If you want me to.”
“I left him a test. If he wants me, he’ll figure it out.” Her brother almost sounded hopeful.
She arched a brow, not sure what that meant.
While he never lacked for sexual partners—he was built like a house and hung like a horse—Forest lacked the most basic social skills that glued people together.
She had never been sure if it was the sexual trauma, if he was a high-functioning Asperger’s individual, or if it was a combination of both.
What she did understand was he orbited in a different sphere than the rest of humanity.
For him, connecting on a personal level with anyone generally resulted in catastrophe for both parties and explained why his longest-lasting intimate relationship numbered in weeks.
They walked down the busy concourse, the crowds parting before them, people moving away from the force that was Forest Summers.
“How’d you get security to let you meet me at the gate?”
He wrinkled his nose. “You do remember, we recently acquired an airline?”
She shook her head. “No.” She never kept up with his mergers and acquisitions. “When did that happen?”
He gave an exasperated moan. “I sent you a memo.”
“You know I don’t read half the crap you send me.”
He flooded her inbox all day with their business affairs.
“Skye, you really need to pay attention. How long are you going to pretend—”
“Look, we had a deal. You handle the money, and I—”
He stopped and turned to face her. Icy blue eyes bored into her. “You can’t ignore what we’ve built.”
“I don’t want anything to do with that money. It’s tainted.”
“Tainted, my ass.” He cocked his head, and his voice rumbled. “We earned every fucking cent.” He lifted his hand and pressed it to his head. “We’re not arguing about this. If something were to happen to me—”
“Nothing is going to happen to you.”
Others saw a fierce warrior when Forest Summers stared them down.
He didn’t care what anyone thought, which made him formidable in the boardroom, but all she saw was the scared, sodomized little boy curled in a ball on the basement floor.
He knew this and allowed it but only because what he saw when he looked at her was much worse.
He leveled out his tone, smoothing out the rough edges.
“If something ever happened to me, who would carry on our work? What would happen to the charities? What about the children? I know you’re busy with your medicine, and I don’t expect you to run the businesses, but you can’t continue to be oblivious to what we’ve become. ”
“I don’t need this right now.” She shifted her focus, weighing his words, looking for hidden meaning.
Her stomach dropped as the doctor inside reared its head. All those drugs, needles, and rampant sex? He tried to be safe, but trying was lying in her book. Accidents happened, and viruses killed. She dealt with that every day.
“Is there something I need to know? Are you sick?”
“Damn it, Skye. Don’t doctor me. I’m not sick.”
“Are you sure?”
He tilted his head and stared at the ceiling tiles.
He breathed out slow and tucked his chin to his chest. His shoulders drooped. “I get tested every three months, like I promised. My last checkup was a month ago. I’m not dying. I don’t have HIV or hepatitis or any other STD. Stop playing doctor, and be my fucking sister for once.”
“Forest, what’s going on?” When they got serious, nicknames disappeared.
“You got married. That’s what’s going on. The legal ramifications alone are staggering. He’s entitled to half of what you own.”
“I don’t think he cares about money. Ash has plenty.”
“Not compared to you. Does he even have a clue? Have you told him?”
She never talked money, and even though the hospital she worked in carried a piece of her name, no one had figured out the connection behind the endowment and the newest emergency doctor on staff. Her life remained compartmentalized on purpose.
She squinted. “You said I could get it annulled.”
Forest started forward again. “The jet’s waiting.”
“You said we owned the damn jet. It’ll leave when we get there.”
With another frustrated shake of his head, Forest rocked back on his heels, releasing a pent-up sigh. “If I’d had them park at the private concourse, then yes, but we pay for every minute the jet sits at this one. You think I throw our money away, but that’s not true.”