Seeing Skye’s life now, guilt hit me like a freight train. She deserved better than to be working as a waitress. I needed to help her. And I would. I absolutely would. But first, I needed her help.
“I need your help,” I announced, sitting up straight and squaring my shoulders.
She looked shocked, not that I could really blame her. I wasn’t expecting to have to ask for it and I never would’ve expected to have to chase her halfway across the country to beg either, but here we were.
“O-Okay.”
“I’m trying to find who did this…”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“I can’t,” I answered honestly.
I couldn’t count the number of times I’d asked myself the same question, but I just couldn’t. Life would be easier if I could, God knows it would be. But it wasn’t who I was. And this wasn’t even about me. It was about Cassidy. She deserved justice. Her family deserved closure and I needed it. Desperately.
“I know,” Skye answered softly as she reached over and squeezed my hand. “How do I help?”
For the next twenty minutes I outlined my plan.
Three days later after a lot of begging and groveling, I was carrying Skye’s bags through the door to my apartment.
“It’s not much,” I said slightly embarrassed as I led her inside.
I may have moved but I hadn’t bothered to make any sort of effort. Boxes lined the walls, it was bare and devoid of anything that might possibly be misconstrued as personal and everything was gray.
“It’s fine,” Skye attempted to assure me as she looked around.
“It’s only one bedroom, so you can take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch,” I offered.
“I can’t do that.”
“Please, Skye. You’re here helping me.”
“I can just get a hotel room…”
Not bothering to answer because it’d likely lead to yet another argument that would end up in us going around and around in circles before we ended just agreeing to disagree anyway, I went into the bedroom and set her suitcases on the floor before turning my attention to the bed, stripping away the sheets. Right now I may come across as cold and unattached, but I still had my manners.
“Mind if I take a shower?” Skye asked from the doorway.
“Not at all. There’s fresh towels under the sink.”
With the sound of water running, I changed the sheets, tidied the room, and grabbed some clothes and shit I’d need for the next couple of days. The last thing I wanted to do was to be walking in on Skye while she was sleeping to get a clean pair of boxers. Or worse, when she was getting changed.
I could hear her singing in the shower and had to walk away. Cassidy had done that and it was a sound I hadn’t heard since. It used to make me laugh. Cass was a famous singer. People from all over the country lined up for hours and packed into stadiums to hear her sing. But when she was in the shower, she really let loose. More than once I’d gone running in there when I’d heard a pained cry or a string of curse words rude enough to make your mother blush, only to find she’d been shaking her ass so hard she slipped and bumped her elbow or dropped the shampoo bottle on her foot.
Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I cracked the lid, dropped into the recliner, and text Dickson to let him know I was back and I’d be in tomorrow. His reply was swift.
Dickson:How’d it go?
Hayden:You wouldn’t believe me if I told you
Remembering what I’d been through in the last couple of days was enough to make me smile. Turned out convincing Skye to forgive me had been the easy part. When she’d taken me back to her parents’ place, she introduced me to her dad. That man was scary. Day after day, I came face to face with some of the worst scum the Chicago streets had to offer, but he was terrifying. I sat through a twenty-minute interrogation about my intentions towards his daughter. It wasn’t until I managed to assure him that I’d have her back and make sure she was safe in the big, bad city did he finally concede and gave his blessing.
Dickson:???
Hayden:She’s in my shower now
Dickson:On my way
