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ChapterTwenty-Three
Skye
Chloe is staring at me,but I’m watching the door. He walked out. Just like that. I’m not surprised, but I am, and that confusing mix of emotion roils around my empty stomach with the swallow of Gideon’s soulless coffee making me want to vomit.
I don’t blame him for being angry with Chloe. Not at all. But I’m hurt that he walked away from the fight. From me. I’m hurt that all he had to say about us to Chloe is that he instigated the fling and I’m good in bed.Great.I’m great in bed. Maybe that’s supposed to take the sting out of the way he walked out without a word to me.
“How could you do this?” Chloe groans and climbs onto a stool at my bar. I glance her way, but I walk to the door and grip the knob. Maybe he’s just blowing off some steam in the hall, and he’ll pop back in so he and I can talk to Chloe together.
Even before I twist the knob and pull the door open, I know he won’t be there. He’s made it clear to me from the beginning that he doesn’t want a relationship. What we’ve been doing is the same fun thing he does everywhere he goes. Ironically, I can now call myself one of Gideon Reece’s women. It doesn’t feel the way I wanted it to.
It hurts.
Finding the hallway empty makes my throat ache. Chloe sighs behind me and mumbles something, but I don’t listen. Right now, Chloe is the least of my concerns. Gideon’s done with me. And even though I knew this was coming, I’m not ready for it. I didn’t want it to happen like this.
I close the door quietly and stand there for a second with my hand on the doorknob.
“Siblings are off-limits, Skye.”
I look at Chloe when I turn around, stung again by the way she attacked me like I’m some femme fatale who seduced her innocent, baby brother. I’m angry with her, but Gideon’s departure is still eating away inside. I feel empty.
“Your brother’s not who you think he is, Chloe,” I say quietly. Cold now, I smooth my hands up and down my arms and pick up my mug to dump the coffee.
“What does that mean?”
Standing at the sink with my back to her, I draw in a deep breath and wonder how to show her who he really is. How can I do that if he won’t? Why hasn’t he stood up to his family before? I know the answer to that—the path of least resistance. Run from their judgment and live his life alone on his own terms.
I shrug. Put my empty mug in the sink and stand there a moment longer. Just last night Gideon and I were dancing around the kitchen, swatting each other with dish towels and laughing like kids.
When I turn around, Chloe’s watching me closely. I meet her gaze for a second, but when my eyes blur, I shake my head and leave her alone in the kitchen. I crawl back into bed and wish I hadn’t washed the sheets yesterday. I want to smell Gideon’s cologne, his soap—all the things that proved he was really here with me for a while.
Chloe doesn’t knock. I hear her bare feet on the floor as she enters my bedroom. Lying on my stomach with my face buried in my arms, I can’t see her. The bed moves as she climbs in on the side. She arranges herself and then I feel her hand on my shoulder.
“Talk to me,” she says softly, and this is the Chloe I know. The Chloe who is my best friend and would never insinuate that I had bad intentions with her brother.
“It doesn’t matter now anyway.” I speak into my arms, so my words are muffled. She hears me though. We’ve done this scene a few times through the years, the roles interchangeable. Heartache comes in all varieties; we’ve consoled each other through bad test grades, rough job interviews, bad days on the job, and the regular garden variety heartache only love and love lost deliver.
“Skye.”
Suddenly wondering if Gideon might have texted or called me, I roll over, swipe at my eyes, and grab my phone from the nightstand. Chloe’s gaze is like a mantle around my shoulders. No texts or calls on the screen. He’s just gone.
The realization hits me again. I drop my phone in my lap and fix my gaze on the end of the bed. I’m not much of a crier, but when I do, it gets ugly fast. Not that Chloe hasn’t seen it before. But I want to hold it in right now. Because I’m angry with Gideon for making me fall so hard and then jerking the rug out from under me and walking away. And I’m angry with Chloe for assuming the worst. For looking at her brother and still seeing that socially awkward tween he used to be.
The silence is deafening, and I think if Gideon were here, and it was a normal morning, we would be lying in bed together with music playing. Probably just the radio, but I miss the noise.
I don’t realize the tears get away from me until one drops on my hand and Chloe reaches over to wipe it dry with her thumb.
“You’re in love with him.”
I look up at her then, but I still don’t know what to say.
“Tell me,” she whispers. “Tell me about this man you’re in love with.”
This is what she would say if it wasn’t Gideon. And I would gush about how wonderful my guy is and how he broke my heart. We would probably eat ice cream straight from the carton, wash it down with wine, and curl up on the couch together to watch chick flicks.
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t feel the same, so.” I shrug and stare at her stubbornly.
“I’m sorry.”
