from the vehicle like a racer at the starting pistol.
“Skylar.”
She didn’t speak, just gestured to her other piece of work in there. The moment it cleared the back of her truck, she slammed the tailgate.
“I need to talk to you, Skylar,” he called out as he carried it. They had to discuss why the fuck she was putting her house up for sale. Of course, he was fine if she wanted to move in with him. For forever would work.
Still nothing other than the sound of her truck as she drove away.
“Fuck!”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you. And she said to tell you to stop sending her flowers. Her Realtor is tired of putting them in the house.”
“Where is she staying?”
“Didn’t ask.” Ioan closed up the Bronco and went behind the wheel. “Let’s go, because you look like someone kicked your puppy. Christ. I can’t take this.”
Parker listened and sat as he ran over seeing her once more. A painful experience and one he was desperate to have again. She looked fucking amazing. But then, she always had.
Chapter Fifteen
“We need to see each other more often.”
Skylar hugged her friend. Time with one’s bestie was necessary.
“One of us is here all the time, the other of us gallivants about the country saving lives and such.” She kissed her cheek. “Thank you for letting me crash at your place.”
Ryliee Boreo waved a hand. “You needed it. It’s yours.”
They’d been best friends since they were five years old. They’d met during a playground spat that ended with the two of them punching some boys in the face and being sent to the office, side by side in their identical outfits.
Ryliee had picked up her hand, laced their fingers and declared, “We’re best friends now, forever and evers.”
And they had been.
Today, they weren’t in identical anything. Skylar had light blue capris that were cute on her—so she thought—and a pale pink shirt. On her feet were slip-on canvas shoes. Ryliee, on the other hand killed with her vibrant coral skirt that showed off her assets, coupled with the collared white button-down with the top few open. Skylar didn’t have to look to know her white stilettos bore a red sole.
“I needed to see you after you called.” Ryliee hugged her once more. “I’m worried about you. Who do I need to beat?”
Arm in arm, they walked to their outside table. They put in drink orders, and she sighed heavily. “I’m okay.”
“Bullshit.” Ryliee’s gaze snapped with fire. “You struggled last time. I don’t want a shit answer. I want the truth. If that means we leave, fine, we do, but you are not okay.”
Skylar gave the server a smile as their drinks were delivered.
“Bring another round,” Ryliee instructed. “That way we have them.”
“Right away.”
Skylar struggled to wrangle her tears under control, because Ryliee was 100 percent correct. She wasn’t okay. Not even remotely close
Ryliee lifted her Alabama slammer and held it out. “To the best of friends. My girl.”
Lifting her Texas tea, Skylar extended it to tap her friend’s. “To us.”
There was a moment of shared silence as they both drank their respective beverages.
“Tell me about what’s going on in your life. I want the details of my globe-trotting bestie.”
She laughed, and Ryliee joined in. Before long she had her shoes off and her feet sunk in the silken sand. She scrunched her toes and groaned.
“Shoes off then?”
Skylar waggled a finger at her. “Don’t go acting like you still all in your Louboutins.” She took another drink. “We both know your French-manicured toes are in this sand like mine.”
“Fuck that, they were off before the first round appeared. Only reason I had them in the first place is because I had a meeting right before coming here and I didn’t want to take the time to stop and change. You know I’d be in a white top, plaid skirt, and my unicorn socks and shoes.”
The wind picked up, and Skylar reached up to brush some of the curls away from her face.
Parker used to tell me all the time how he loved my curls, how he couldn’t touch them enough.
Ryliee indulged her with stories of her travels while they gorged themselves on a large platter of appetizers ranging from calamari to egg rolls, potato skins, jalapeño poppers, and beer-battered mushrooms.
Her sides hurt from laughing so hard, yet the cloud of her own misery never completely left her alone.
The sun had set, and the string lights offered illumination combined with the flameless candle in the