“You know, I usually watch a little TV before bed,” I lied.
The way he looked at me . . . I swear this guy could see right through me. He nodded. “All right.”
And that’s how I found myself watching episodes of Boardwalk Empire with Killian. Neither of us had seen it before and we got hooked fast.
In fact, it was the last thing I remember. Being curled up on the couch while Killian sat on the floor with his back against it.
When I woke up the next morning, I was magically in my own bed in an empty apartment.
* * *
O’DEA DIDN’T COME AROUND FOR a couple of days.
And just like that, he went back to being O’Dea, not Killian. Not because I was mad at him for disappearing after I’d let down my walls. In fact, I was glad for the space. It allowed me to process everything I’d brought out into the open.
“Your songs . . . There’s so much pain in them. These things can turn to poison if you leave them inside to fester.”
O’Dea was right. And the fact that he was willing to open up to me about his own parents’ death told me how much he wanted me to work through my issues. He wasn’t a man who allowed himself to be vulnerable to anyone but his sister. I was sure of that. But he’d been vulnerable to me in a seemingly self-sacrificing act. How much of it was because he genuinely wanted to help me and how much was about making sure his artist was mentally healthy by the time the album dropped, I wasn’t sure.
My gut told me it was a little of both.
I wasn’t mad at O’Dea. I’d needed to open up regarding that moment with Bryan, to reveal my guilt over not telling my mom about it or anything else. It didn’t mean the guilt was gone, but it had settled to a manageable level as though all it had wanted was for me to face it head-on.
Definitely not mad at O’Dea. But his disappearing act reminded me who we were to each other and calling him by his surname felt like mental armor.
“You okay?” Autumn asked as we wandered through a department store.
After three days in the apartment processing, I needed a breather, so I’d called Autumn and she’d suggested a little retail therapy. I didn’t care what we did, as long as I got out for a while.
“My wrist is itchy,” I complained honestly, lifting up my cast. “I’m desperate to get this thing off.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I broke my ankle when I was fourteen. Skiing trip with the school. I hated the cast. It made me miserable. Killian had just started his second year at uni and he missed out on all the first-semester partying to look after me.”
Oh God, I didn’t want to know that. “Which uni did he go to?” Damn your own curiosity, Finch.
“Glasgow.” She gave me a sad smile. “He wanted to stay at home so he could look after me.”
“Your uncle really didn’t parent you at all?”
She walked around a perfume display and stopped in front of me, lowering her voice. “He kept informed of our grades at school, our extracurricular stuff, and the moment we showed any sign of weakness, a B instead of an A, a lost football match for Killian, a failed audition at the Royal Conservatoire for me, and he would castigate us for what felt like days.”
A bottle of Miss Dior caught my eye and I thought of how amazingly supportive my mom had been about everything. When I came home with a bad grade, she never made me feel like a failure. “Jesus, he sounds like a piece of work.”
“You have no idea.” Autumn threaded her arm through mine and led me toward the stairs. “Anything else, he had absolutely no interest in our lives whatsoever.”
“What’s the Royal Conservatoire?”
“Of Scotland,” she replied. “I was thirteen when I applied for their junior modern ballet program.”
I smiled at the imagery. “I took ballet when I was six for a year. I was useless. I didn’t know you were a ballerina.”
She grimaced. “Yes, but not an exceptional one, I’m afraid. Which was why I never got into the Conservatoire here. It’s in the top five in the world for performing art schools.”
“Did you stop dancing after the audition?”
Sadness flickered in her eyes. “When I didn’t get in to RCS, my uncle refused to pay for any more dance classes. Or anything to do with dance. What was the point if I wasn’t going to be the best?”
I felt my skin flush hot with anger on her behalf. I hadn’t even met their uncle, but my level of dislike for him was growing by the day. And I’d just signed to his goddamned label.
“Your uncle sounds like a man with a very tiny dick.”
Autumn burst into surprised laughter, stopping us near the exit to the department store. Her body shook mine as she laughed until tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. Finally, she wiped at them, her giggles slowing. She beamed at me. “Thanks, Skylar.”
I smiled at her. “For what?”
“For making me laugh when I told you that story. There are a small handful of people in the world who know that story, and not once has it ever ended with me in fits of laughter.”
I squeezed her elbow with my good hand. “What can I say? I have a gift.”
The bitter wind hit us as we strolled back out onto Buchanan Street and I was glad for the winter coat O’Dea had bought me a few weeks ago. Autumn and I huddled into each other as we walked toward Argyle Street, my gaze drawn to the guy busking a few feet from us.
He was pretty good.
A twinge of longing caused an ache in my chest.
“Do you miss it?” Autumn asked as we passed him.
“Busking?”
“Yes.”
I nodded. “It was simple.”
“Killian told me you’re reluctant to get back into the music business. Something about hating the fame part of it all.”
“He did, huh?”
I felt her scrutinizing me. “He thinks it’s fear after all the horrible publicity surrounding your parents’ murders.” Her voice was gentle, as if she was afraid to mention it, but I still flinched.
Murder.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around that.
My mom and Bryan were murdered.
And the bastards who did it were still out there somewhere.
“Your brother believes what he wants to believe,” I said, bitter.
“He thinks if you really weren’t interested in a music career, you would have found another way. That you had other options. Don’t you think there’s a possibility he’s right?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted dully. “When I was in the band, my complicated relationship with Micah put us in the eye of a storm we couldn’t escape. Maybe if things between us had been less messy, if fans hadn’t picked up on it, the fame would have been different. But I don’t know that. All I know is that I had everything I thought I wanted and I was desperately unhappy.” I gave her a sad shrug. “Does that mean I will be again? I don’t know. So, I guess I was less afraid to take that risk than I was to face the guys. They were my family too and I . . . I abandoned them. I wasn’t ready to face them yet, so I agreed to do things O’Dea’s way and hope that it pans out okay.”
“You’re angry at Killian,” she murmured.
“No, I’m not. What was he supposed to do? Let me live in that apartment, feed me, clothe me, all for nothing? I was a stranger. He offered me an alternative to living on the streets and I accepted it. Now I’m here on a work visa instead of being kicked out of the country, I have travel insurance, a place to stay, and time to sort things out. In exchange for something that frankly scares the shit out of me. I’m not mad at him. I resent him a little,” I huffed, “but I’m not mad. I’m just . . .”
“You’re just . . . ?”
I shook my head, not sure how to finish the sentence.
“My brother will help you through this, Skylar, you have to know that.” Autumn gave me big, sincere puppy eyes and I almost laughed. It was so obvious that she wanted me to like O’Dea. It became even more obvious when she continued, “He’s highly competitive. Very
ambitious. And I’m not blind to his faults. I know he can be ruthless. And cold. But our uncle, our upbringing, made him that way.
“Nothing was ever good enough and while I didn’t care as long as I had Killian, my brother needed someone too. He was like a parent to me, so I’ve always had that kind of support and love in my life. But Killian lost his when our parents died. He didn’t have someone older to protect and love him. His dad is a criminal who has spent more time in prison than out—he’s currently behind bars—and my uncle . . .
“For the longest time, Killian wanted James to love him, to be there when life got hard. But when he realized that wasn’t going to happen, Killian strove to prove something to him. He’s brought more success to that label in the years he’s worked there than the label has seen in its entire thirty years. Do you think my uncle acknowledges that? Never. And as much as I try to convince Killian otherwise, all that does is drive him to do better, to get that elusive pat on the shoulder.
“It’s never coming.” She looked desolate. “And I don’t want my brother to lose himself trying.”
“Like Sisyphus,” I murmured, feeling bleak for O’Dea. “Rolling that damn boulder up a hill only for it to roll back down, an eternity of futility.”
“Exactly. But in my brother’s case, one of these days, that boulder is going to roll back down and flatten him.”
Feeling as if a weight had been placed on my shoulders, I sighed heavily. “Why are you telling me this, Autumn? I doubt very much that O’Dea would be happy you’ve told me something so personal about him.”
She drew to a stop outside a shoe store, strangers passing in my peripheral like blurs. She seemed to plead with me with her eyes. “You’re right. Killian would be so angry at me, which is why I’m going to ask you not to repeat any of this. But I’m worried about you both. I’m worried what happens when the tabloids come knocking because we know they will, Skylar. I’m worried for you and for my brother. And I don’t want you to hate him.”
“I don’t hate him.”
“Not now, you don’t,” she said, sounding almost prophetic.
Confused, I shook my head. “Why? Why does it matter if I hate him?”
Autumn exhaled slowly, shakily. “Because he’s not acting like himself. He hasn’t been acting like himself for weeks.”
Something fluttered in my chest. I didn’t know if it was panic or something worse. Like excitement. “And you think that has something to do with me?”
With a little smirk of knowing, Autumn turned and began walking again. “The timing is interesting.”
“We haven’t spoken in days,” I argued, but I did it knowing that deep down we hadn’t spoken in days because we had connected that night in the apartment. I suspected that freaked O’Dea out. No wonder. It would be the height of stupidity to explore that connection.
“Busker Girl?” a familiar voice called out before Autumn could reply.
The voice drew my gaze to the entrance of Argyle Arcade. Sitting on her own, shivering in a hoodie and sleeping bag was Mandy.
I moved toward her without even thinking about it, ignoring Autumn’s questioning voice as she followed me.
“Hey,” I said softly, not hiding my accent. “How’s it going?”
She grinned at me with those yellowing teeth. “Right as rain. So ye dropped the fake accent . . .” Her gaze flickered to Autumn and narrowed a little. “Got yerself a rich sponsor?”
“This is my friend.” I knelt, looking around. “No Ham?”
“Nah. I gave him the heave-ho.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was time.” She shivered, huddling into herself. “The man’s gonnae kill himself. I dinnae want to be there when he does.” Her eyes dropped to my cast. “What happened to ye, then?”
“Little prick tried to steal my guitar.”
Her expression turned admonishing. “I always worried about ye, Busker Girl.”
“You were right to. But I’m okay now.”
“Good. One less thing to worry about.” She coughed, deep and racking. It sounded like the chill had wrapped itself around her rib cage.
Feeling overwhelming sadness and concern for her, I stood and turned to Autumn who looked confused and distressed. “How much cash have you got?” I murmured under my breath.
“There’s a cash machine,” she whispered. “How much do you need?”
It was offered without hesitation. A wave of affection for this woman hit me so hard, it took me a minute to answer. “I’ll pay you back,” I promised.
“How much do you need?”
“A hundred?” I wanted to say more but I also didn’t want to take advantage.
She nodded and walked away, and I turned back to Mandy. “How’s life been treating you?”
Her eyes followed Autumn. “Who’s the lassie? Bonnie thing. She could be a model.” Envy soaked her words.
“She’s a friend. A good one. Good person.”
“Really?” Mandy turned back to look up at me. “Good-looking and good person dinnae usually go hand in hand.”
“My, what a cynic you are.”
“Aye, well,” she cocked her head, assessing me, “ye’re actually a bonnie girl too, now that ye’ve got some meat to you. And I know you’re a good person.”
“Am I?” I frowned. Because I’d deliberately not thought about the poor souls I’d left behind on the streets. It made me feel powerless on top of all the other emotions I was trying to manage.
“What? Bonnie, or a good person?” she teased.
I laughed. “I guess I’m neither.”
“Modesty doesnae suit ye.”
My grin felt forced. I was anxious for her and concerned she wouldn’t take what I was about to offer.
Autumn came back to my side and turned into me so she was facing away from Mandy. She murmured, “Three hundred,” and slipped the cash into my hand.
Surprised, I whipped my head around to look her in the eye. Are you sure?
She saw the question and nodded, squeezing my hand around the money.
Thank you.
I shrugged out of my coat, bending down to wrap it around Mandy. She smelled of stale sweat and bad breath, but I didn’t flinch.
“What are ye doing?” she asked.
“Take it.” I grabbed her hand with my good one and curled her fist around the money. “Three hundred,” I whispered. “Get yourself into a hostel. And now that you’re away from Ham, get yourself to Shelter Scotland or to someone who can help you find your feet, Mandy.”
I moved to pull my hand away but she grabbed onto me. “Good person,” she declared.
Tears burned in my eyes and I pulled back abruptly, standing, trying not to shiver now that I had no coat. “Take care of yourself.”
She slipped her arms into my coat, grinning. “You worry about yerself, Busker Girl. I’ll be all right.”
I waved as Autumn and I walked away. My friend—and I decided she most definitely was my friend—put her arm around my shoulders and declared, “We need to get you a bloody coat, pronto.”
WE WERE IN A STORE where I was trying on a lovely and very stylish wool coat when Autumn’s cell rang.
“It’s Killian,” she said before answering. “Hey, big bro. What’s up?” She eyed me, giving me a thumbs-up as I turned to let her see the coat from all sides. “Coat shopping. Skylar gave hers away to a homeless person . . . yes.” She grinned. “I did say that . . . Someone she knew . . . Well, she was homeless for a while, Killian, it isn’t shocking she made some friends.”
I laughed under my breath, slipping out of the coat to try another on.
“Because she was cold . . . I know that means now Skylar is cold, that’s why we’re buying her a replacement coat.”
I threw her an amused grin at the sound of laughter in her words.
“She was cold for less than five minutes . . . I can send you a photo to prove she’s perfectly okay, if that will help? . . . No, I’m not taking the piss out of yo
u . . . No . . . fine . . . Killian, why are you calling?”
I studied myself in a nearby mirror and made a face at my reflection. When I looked over at Autumn, she was shaking her head too. I studied it in the mirror. It made me look like I was dressing up in my mother’s clothes.
“Really?”
Something about the seriousness of her tone drew my gaze back to her.
“When? . . . Okay, I’ll let her know . . . Bye.” She hung up and stared at me in so much concern my mind began to whir with questions. Had someone found out about me? Did the guys know where I was? Did the press? “What’s going on?”
“Killian’s lawyer called. They found the boys who attacked you. The police need you to come in and ID them.”
I felt a weird mixture of relief and anger. Relief because my location was apparently still a mystery to the outside world but anger because I didn’t want to have to face those boys again, especially Johnny. But I knew I had to. “When?”
“Killian’s texting me the number you’ve to call. They’ll give you the details.”
For some stupid reason, I felt hurt that Killian hadn’t called me himself. Clearly, he had no intention of being there for me for anything personal anymore. I knew that it was the smart thing for him to do but . . .
No, never mind. No buts.
“Okay.” I blew out a breath. “Guess I better buy a coat.”
“I liked the wool one,” she offered, gently tugging at the one I was currently wearing. “This is a no.”
“I’m going to pay you back. For everything,” I assured her as I shrugged out of it.
“It’s all out of the company credit card,” she replied. “So you don’t have to. I know accessing your money means letting certain people know where you are.”
We grabbed the coat we’d both liked and walked to the till to pay for it. As we stood at the cash desk, waiting to be served, I said, “If I haven’t told you before, I’m really glad I met you, Autumn O’Dea.”
She grinned, nudging me with her shoulder, “Back at ya, Finch.”
* * *
As Dust Dances Page 14