Fireworks (True North, #6)

by Sarina Bowen

her face breaks into a big smile. And, boom! That smile vibrates in my body like a good clap of thunder.

When we were young, I never got to take Skye out. Neither of us ever had any money to burn on restaurant food. “There are a hundred places I want to take you. This is just the beginning.

I’m suddenly uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Because my recent hookup manages the service department at the Toyota dealership.

“Now I know why you haven’t answered my texts,” she snaps. “How gracious of you to explain that you’d moved on.” “Jill,” I warn. “Jesus.”

maybe I am an asshole, because it’s not Jill who I’m worried about right now. Skye won’t even look at me.

I can feel Skye’s shock beside me. She takes a step sideways, as if she’s trying put distance between herself and me.

“Oh right. Skylar. Be sure to ask him to bring home a pair of handcuffs. He likes those a lot.” Skye lets out a shocked gasp.

“Really? You didn’t forget my number the second she showed up in town after ten years?” “Twelve.” “But who's counting?”

“Your girl needs you to do some groveling. I don’t think she knew you really are a bimbo. Like your little niece says you are.”

Skye solved this problem by spending twenty of her precious dollars on a black strapless bra with a little bit of padding right where she needed it. And then she’d splurged on the matching panties, unsure if Benito would see them or not.

In fact, it’s about nine o’clock when Skye has to stop pretending that things aren’t going very, very wrong. But she won’t leave her spot outside. If Benito suddenly arrives, she wants him to notice her strapless dress.

Her hunger becomes a dull ache that she can ignore, because her heartache is worse.

“I saw your boy on his motorcycle earlier,” he says. “He was all dressed up and carrying flowers. I watched ‘im give them to that Sullivan girl. They make a real nice couple.”

She’s been traded in for a girl who drives her own white Mustang. Of course. For the first time ever, Skye feels just like the foolish whore Gage always accuses her of being.

She raises the window screen for the last time and drops the bag out first. Then she exits after it, taking care not to turn an ankle. She might have to walk for hours until she finds a lift to the bus station.

She thinks about knocking on the door and asking for a ride. But she can’t stand the thought of owing the Rossi’s anything.

“I love you, Skye,” he’d said. And I’d believed him. He forgot to add, “Oh, and I’ve been banging Jill Sullivan off and on since prom night.”

Is she the kind of woman Benito really wants? And, if so, when he tells me he loves me, does that even make sense?

Maybe another girl would understand. But I might be too broken inside to believe that the way he feels about me is different from the way he feels about Jill.

I can’t even think about Benito right now. It hurts too much.

“We have a playlist. All the best accidental penises on air.”

“Jack’s is arguably the best penis. No offense—Skye’s penis is pretty special, but Jack’s is spectacular.” “I’m blushing!” Jack says. “Stop.” “Jack has a penis, too?” I ask

“It’s just Jack’s penis,” Jordy says defensively. “You’ve seen it before.” “Wanna see Skye’s?” Jack asks.

I’ve already seen the Emily Skye clip. The ball-sac is my favorite part. Nice to meet you, Emily Skye. I’m Lane Barker.”

I’ll bet your phone extension at work lit up with job offers this week.” This stops me cold. “What?” “Maybe your boss wanted you out of the way so nobody could steal you.”

“Nice to meet you, Skylar,” Lane says. “Don’t lose my number.”

“He’s a man, Raffie. They believe in generosity as long as it involves their dick in your hooha. But the minute you’re not fun anymore, that’s it. We’re disposable.” Given the day I’ve had so far, it’s not easy to refute that point.

everything he’d said sounds different to me now. He’d probably said all the same things to Jill Sullivan.

Sex with skittish me, versus sex with Jill Sullivan? That’s not a competition I can win.

“Well, Benito,” I say to myself. “Waiting suits you. So you can wait some more.” Another twelve years sounds like a nice, round number.

We used to try to nab the jack-o’-lantern but he always figures out who the undercover cops are and shows up clean. So we switched tactics. Every week we pay him for gossip instead.

“How could you?” “What do you mean? I didn’t know Skye would walk back into my life.” “No! How could you bang Jill Sullivan, of all people?”

“Oh, Benny. You are such a dumbass. When you break Jill’s heart, you could at least notice.”

I don’t know where Skye is, and I’m afraid she’ll take off without saying goodbye.”

“What’s that thing you always say? Everybody thinks he’s the good guy.” “Well, that is fucking humbling.”

And—this is sad—I actually experience a twinge of disloyalty for buying espresso from a chain, when I could have bought it from Zara.

I’m not a member of Zara’s family, and I never will be. I can’t stick around playing house with Benito and pretending that I belong here. I never did, and I obviously never will.

I tap in the code for the downstairs door—the one that’s May’s birthday in about a month. I won’t be here to wish her a happy birthday.

This place isn’t so great. I’m just going to keep telling myself that.

I take a quick glance around, looking for anything I might have left. But it looks like I was never here at all.

Dear Benny, I have to go. I know I’m leaving without a proper goodbye again. But it’s best for everyone if I just slip out of town. I’ve got work to do, and so do you.

I can’t linger in his aura and hope that eventually his definition of I love you will match up with mine.

It’s crazy, but I actually walk back to the bedroom and stand in the doorway. And I make myself picture Jill in that bed with Benito. And it hurts just as much as I thought it would.

My last act is to leave that I Love Vermont keychain next to the note I left him. I don’t love Vermont. That hasn’t changed.

Now I understand that sex can be pretty great. Thanks Benito. But it’s still not worth the heartache.

“Why are we like this?” I ask. “Both of us alone?” I’m not a nomad, but I’m as skittish as she is in so many ways. “Daddy issues and mommy issues,”

“Let’s pick up Gage,” I chime in. I can’t stand the idea of Skylar near his home.

I wonder if he’s been alone all these years. I hope so. I hate to think that there’s a string of girls like me who took his abuse.

“What’s that saying? Eat dessert first in case you die.”

Crummy job or not, my life is awfully nice. Lonely, but nice.