Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
I’d die first. That’s what his gut urged him to say out loud. Why would this guy believe him, though? Those women he’d been speaking so openly and inappropriately about . . . they hadn’t knocked him on his ass and given him heart palpitations, the way Skylar did, but they’d deserved the same respect, hadn’t they?
“I’d never talk about her like that,” Robbie rasped, more truth slipping out than intended. “The thought of it makes me sick.”
Elton’s brows drew together at that, as if not sure how to read Robbie. Which was fair, since his reasons for being there were not straightforward to anyone but him and Skylar. “Good,” Elton said finally, jabbing a finger into Robbie’s shoulder. “Just consider yourself on notice, Corrigan.”
Robbie nodded curtly. “Copy that.”
As soon as Elton stomped out of the room, Robbie sat heavily in the stool he’d vacated. In dire need of a distraction, he turned around a picture frame on the counter, revealing a family photo. Doug and Vivica, along with their children. Arms resting on one another’s shoulders, standing in front of a sign welcoming them to the Grand Canyon.
Elton totally at ease, with a buzz cut and a smirk, captured in the middle of goofing off. A much younger Skylar, as solemn-eyed as he knew her to be, but relaxed. Less tense.
The baseball mitt on her hand made his stupid heart squeeze.
Even at the Grand Canyon.
As someone who never went anywhere without a hockey stick, he got it.
He got . . . her.
But as much as he wanted to carry on cataloging things about Skylar from the past, he couldn’t help but notice something else about the snapshot.
Everyone pictured wore a Brown University T-shirt. Even Skylar.
Robbie glanced up from the photo, seeing the pennant framed on the wall in the living room for the first time. The blanket folded up neatly on the couch. All red and brown, the colors of the apparent sacred family alma mater.
Nothing for BU anywhere?
Robbie went back to his place on the floor in Skylar’s room with a frown on his face . . . and he didn’t fall asleep for a very long time.
Chapter Twelve
Skylar woke up to an empty pile of bedding on her floor and a text from Robbie.
Gone for rations. Be back soon.
“Rations?” she echoed through a yawn, stretching on her way to her suitcase, where she’d left it sitting in the corner. Still groggy, she flung the luggage onto the bed and unzipped, reaching into the mesh pocket for underwear and a sports bra. The sun had yet to rise and the house remained mostly quiet, except for her father, who was puttering around in the kitchen counting down the minutes until trumpet-blowing time. Didn’t matter that everyone was already awake this particular morning—he’d probably blow it regardless just to put everyone on their guard.
Looking out the window, she could see her mother and Elton sharing a cup of coffee on the back porch, comfortable in their companionship. A familiar scene in which she was rarely included. The few times she’d joined her stepbrother and mother for their morning chat during the Page Stakes, they’d talked mostly about their experiences at Brown, his and her former professors, news from the alumni board, of which they were both members.
Of course, they didn’t exclusively talk about the college, but it was an easy segue into other topics. That bond made it easy for Vivica to relate to Elton in a way she couldn’t seem to relate to Skylar. As an all-American student athlete, academics were a huge part of Skylar’s life, but talking about her courses inevitably drew comparisons to the Brown curriculum. Criticisms, too. And at some point, Skylar had decided to avoid morning coffee sessions with Doug, Vivica, and Elton because they left her feeling deflated. Like someone standing just outside of the inner circle.
Now, Eve, her Page Stakes teammate, was a great friend. However, she’d raised herself in difficult circumstances, and as the daughter of the town pariah, Eve had grown up with a tough outer shell that Skylar couldn’t always penetrate. Not the warm, fuzzy type—and not everyone had to be. Her quiet strength and no-nonsense pragmatism were some of the reasons Skylar loved Eve. Now that she’d taken over her father’s strip club and turned it into a burlesque lounge, she had some hefty responsibilities, too, meaning Skylar’s best friend was now emotionally and physically distant. Something that hadn’t really registered until last night when Robbie, as her new teammate, had been so . . . there. Ready for anything. With her.
Which also made Skylar wonder if she was missing something with Eve. Had she not been present enough for her best friend?
In the bathroom, Skylar sat down on the closed toilet lid and called Eve.
Four rings. Voicemail.