28. Chapter 28
Skye
T hree days after the shit hit the fan, Skye had deleted countless text messages and voicemails, each one nosier than the last. The people of Shiloh Hills heard through the grapevine about Dylan, Gayle, and even Max and how they’d each been involved in some sinister plot to sell Skye off like a prized sow at the local auction.
That the entire town knew so much about her personal business, especially something so awful, made her want to change her phone number and become a hermit.
Perhaps Rabble’s team could help her establish a new identity, one that wasn’t plagued by scandal.
With small towns though, you had to take the good with the bad, which included gossip spreading very quickly and everyone thinking it was their collective business to get involved.
The only people she answered were Kellyn and Bekah, largely because they were the only ones who genuinely cared how she was doing.
The other messages were from townsfolk poking around for information.
Skye wasn’t interested in feeding the town gossip mill further and left those texts mostly unread.
Kellyn brought pastries and coffee from the Brick House Cafe.
Wrapped in fuzzy blankets, Skye and her three friends talked about anything and everything.
Sometimes, they didn’t speak at all, letting the space between them warm with the presence of others who cared.
Skye soaked it all in, and the knowledge of her friends’ love for her settled in her chest, warming her from the inside out.
The twins came by the cottage, too, and Skye welcomed them.
They seemed content to join the women, with Declan cracking jokes to help relieve lingering tension.
Though when the conversation strayed into emotional territory and tears flowed, the men shifted uncomfortably on the carpet, making bubbles of giggles break out around the room.
Dash especially looked like he wished he could be anywhere else but stuck in a room with four crying women.
Rabble’s absence hung heavily between them.
Questions flashed in the eyes of Skye’s friends, but she kept those answers to herself, tucking them close to her heart where it beat with missing his nearness.
Skye missed him terribly, wanting him there to hold her.
But Skye recognized that brokenness in his gaze when he left her the previous night and knew more was going on behind his gray eyes than he could express in words.
They were both wrecked and in need of healing.
For her, that meant having the ones she loved around her.
For him, that meant seeking solitude and acceptance in the quiet.
With just a few days until the Independence Day parade, Skye helped her friends and the twins finish up The Wild Bride’s float.
They took turns checking on Skye as they worked, making sure she remained comfortable in public and at night when their work finished.
She stayed the night at Elyza’s and Bekah’s, doing what she could to distract herself, and each normal activity Skye completed centered her a bit more, made her steadier.
The day before the parade, Elyza found her resting under a large tree beside the warehouse. Skye rolled an apple between her palms and stared at the way the sunlight filtered between leaves.
Elyza joined her on the ground, knocking her sandaled feet against Skye’s tennis shoes. “How’re you doing?”
Skye smiled softly. “I’m okay. What’s up?”
“I wanted to check in with you about the parade. Are you still okay with it?” Elyza kept her voice even and low, as if she didn’t want her question to startle or frighten her friend.
Skye took a moment, returning to watching the speckled light play over the ground. The idea of putting on another wedding dress made her shudder but she crossed her arms with resolve. She’d told Elyza she would help, and she intended to see her promise through.
The morning of the parade dawned sunny and humid, and Skye prepared to face the world.
She did her best to follow the picture Elyza sent for “dreamy wedding makeup.” As always, she had everything planned, down to their staging and their beatific expressions, to showcase the dresses her boutique shop offered.
Even though Skye wasn’t a makeup artist, her eyeshadow didn’t look too bad.
If nothing else, the concealer hid any remaining dark circles under her eyes, and the blush added some color to her pale cheeks.
She curled her hair and tucked it into a low bun with some raw crystal bobby pins, adding an element of whimsy to her look.
Elyza asked them to meet at the float about an hour before the parade started, where there would be a place for them to change. The preparations reminded Skye of high school prom, when the other girls in class got ready together. Finally, her turn had arrived.
Even though the day promised to be hot, a light wind blew the heated air around, and Skye decided to walk to the warehouse where the floats waited.
After days of keeping her friends nearby, she needed some alone time.
She let the sound of her sneakers hitting the ground reverberate through her, and her brain enjoyed the few moments when she didn’t have a single thought in her mind.
The sound of her shoes crunching on the loose gravel and the way the summer breeze blew through the deep green leaves on the trees swept through her body, and wrapped around her soul in a calming song she’d enjoyed since childhood.
Skye arrived at the warehouse with plenty of time to spare, a sense of stillness in her chest. Few people milled about, organizing their floats and finalizing last details.
She spotted the bridal shop’s float beneath a large oak tree and sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the shade its branches provided.
Elyza, already there, tucked extra flowers in the garlands wrapped around the posts and draped from the sides of the trailer.
With white, cream, and champagne colors flowing together seamlessly, various fabrics and laces created a waterfall of luxury as they wove in and out of the flowered garlands.
The three bouquets they’d made sat along the tire well.
The petals from the navy and ruby flowers littered the gauzy fabric covering the trailer’s wooden boards.
A woman stood nearby, her young twin daughters wearing long dresses with white lace bodices and thick tulle skirts, one ruby, one navy.
Those must be the flower girls.
Skye smiled. The little girls practically pranced around their mother with excitement while she tried, to no avail, to pin blonde curls atop their heads.
Another woman straightened the lapels of the jacket on a young boy, a little older than the flower girls, who would stand in as a ring-bearer.
Elyza had done a fantastic job in choosing participants.
With their hopping and shouting, the children were especially excited to be in the parade. They would sit on sturdy wooden boxes draped in gauzy fabric, and when the float stopped, the children would throw candy and beads to the waiting crowds.
Behind them, two couples and a lone woman, the crowning jewel of the entire float, dressed in wedding finery would wave to the crowd as if they’d just won a beauty pageant.
Elyza had asked Rabble to participate, to stand in as the groom for the third bride, but he’d begged off.
Skye knew what being on display in front of the town meant for him, the vulnerability and excruciating parts of his past it would bring up.
She didn’t blame him for finding a way out of the role, but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss him.
At the very back of the trailer, Elyza draped different gowns on three mannequins to showcase a dress for mothers, bridesmaids, and even prom. She would ride in the bed of the truck hauling the trailer, waving and smiling as they passed by.
Skye found Bekah and Kellyn behind the float, standing under a canopy modified with four linen walls for privacy.
The cloth walls allowed a small cross-breeze to enter the space, just enough to cool the sweat that quickly beaded on her skin.
Both women were in the process of slipping into the dresses they’d chosen.
Bekah’s corset-backed gown fell off her shoulders, and the princess neckline accentuated her breasts and collarbone.
The fabric draped around her body and Skye wondered how she wasn’t melting into a puddle with all the layers on the dress.
Despite the heat, Bekah looked every bit a princess, and Skye couldn’t help but grin at the picture her friend presented.
Where Bekah looked like a princess, Kellyn had gone for classic with a sexy twist that made Skye’s jaw drop.
The silk dress flowed to the floor like liquid silver.
The strapless neckline formed a heart across her chest, and a daring slit ran up one leg to her mid-thigh.
A garter tattoo played peek-a-boo with the folds of the skirt.
Combined with her pinned-up vibrant red curls and smokey makeup, Kellyn channeled a timeless seduction that spoke of long nights wrapped in moon-kissed sheets.
Both women were utterly breathtaking, and Skye’s throat tightened with her love and appreciation for these ladies.
Elyza walked in behind her. The classy black jumpsuit she wore would keep her comfortable while also establishing her as a serious professional. Paired with glossy black heels, Elyza’s ensemble screamed business chic. Skye couldn’t resist the tight hug she bestowed on her best friend.
“Hey lady,” Elyza hugged her back. “I’m so, so glad to see you.”
Kellyn and Bekah joined in for a group hug that went on for long seconds until Skye pulled back; they’d all been waiting for her to let go first, to be the first one to break that contact, and that meant more to her than she could ever express.
“We’ll let you get dressed,” Kellyn said, ushering the other women out of the tent to give Skye privacy while she changed.
Gratitude sat heavy in Skye’s chest, like a brick as she turned to locate her dress.
The satiny white garment bag hung from a rolling rack in the corner of the tent. She stood across from it, as far as the tent would allow, and stared at it for a few moments. The bag itself, though different from the one that had played a role in her recent nightmare, made Skye’s heart pound.
Gradually, she traversed the space and unzipped the bag, one interlocked section at a time. Her fingers trembled a little more with each inch. When the zipper reached the bottom, the bag sagged open, revealing the dress she’d chosen for herself. Skye froze; eyes wide.
Yards of cream fabric stared back at her, innocent and yet—no. No way.
Absolutely no way could she put that dress on. And no one could make her.
Her breath came in shallow gasps, the air sawing out of her in short bursts as her body shook.
The idea of putting on a wedding dress, of feeling that cream fabric brushing against her skin made her stomach lurch.
The room spun, dizziness creeping over her as the lack of good, deep breaths, kept her from thinking clearly.
All of her coping mechanisms abandoned her at once, leaving her a on the edge of becoming a hyperventilating mess.
I can’t do this.