Page 109 of The Summer We Lie

The comments start flooding in immediately. Guys welcoming her back, asking where she's been, telling her what they want to do to her. Each comment makes my jaw clench tighter.

"I've been... away," she says with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "But I'm back now."

She needs money because she returned what I gave her. She's doing this—exposing herself to these strangers—because of me. Because of us.

"Let's see if we can hit some goals tonight," she continues, adjusting the camera slightly. "First goal is for the bra to come off."

I watch as the tip counter at the bottom of the screen starts climbing rapidly. These men can't wait to see what I've touched, what I've tasted, what I've worshipped with my hands and mouth. What I stupidly thought was mine.

She looks directly into the camera, and for a second, I swear she can see me watching. Her eyes seem to darken, and there's something there—a flash of the real Skye beneath the Cherry Red persona. Pain. Anger. Loss.

I close the app abruptly, tossing my phone across the bed like it's burned me. What the fuck am I doing? This is pathetic. I'm pathetic, sitting here drinking alone, watching her perform for other men, spiraling into self-pity.

This isn't who I am. I don't fall apart over women. I don't lose control.

Except I did. With her, I did.

I cap the whiskey bottle and set it on the nightstand. Enough. If I've lost my daughter and the woman I love, it won't be because I was too weak to fight for them. I need to fix this—all of it. I need to talk to Harper, make her understand that what happened with Skye wasn't just some middle-aged crisis or perverse desire.

And Skye... I need to tell her the truth. That I didn't mean what I said. That she wasn't a mistake—she was the most real thing that's happened to me in years.

I reach for my phone again, opening my contacts. I start with the Harper first, shooting off a text to Logan.

Me: I need to see her, IDC if she wants to see me or not I have something I need to tell her. I'll be by in the morning make sure she's there.

I stare at the message for a moment after sending it to Logan. The conversation is as tense as our relationship has been since this all went down. He's walking a fine line between Harper and me.

My phone vibrates with his response.

Logan: Okay but she's going to kill me.

Me: I can live with that.

Logan: No need to be bitchy.

Logan: I'll make sure she's here.

Me: Thanks.

At least that's one problem temporarily solved. I have no idea what I'm going to say to her, but I know I need to say something. This silence between us is unbearable. She deserves an explanation, an apology—everything I can give her.

But there's someone else I need to reach out to first.

I pull up Skye's contact. My thumb hovers over the screen for a moment before I type out the message.

Me: I don't like people seeing what's mine.

The moment I send it, I regret the possessiveness, the presumption. She's not mine anymore—if she ever truly was. And watching her on that cam site was a mistake. I'm no better than the other men throwing money at her.

But the thought of her performing for them, showing what she'd only shown to me in private... it cuts deeper than I want to admit.

She doesn't respond, and I didn't expect her to. The message shows as delivered, though, which means she hasn't blocked me. That's something, at least. A tiny window I might be able to pry open.

I set my alarm for 6 AM and put my phone on the charger. Tomorrow will be a long day. I need to be clear-headed for Harper, and that means getting some sleep.

I lie down and close my eyes, but sleep remains elusive. My mind races with all the things I need to do tomorrow. How to approach Harper. What to say to make her understand this wasn't just some sick fantasy about her best friend. How to explain that what Skye and I had was real, despite how it might look from the outside.

And Skye... what do I even say to her? That I'm sorry for how I reacted? That I miss her? That watching her perform for others tore me apart?