By the time we reached Miller’s it was already dark. I killed the engine and didn’t even bother getting off. Skylar slid from behind me and jumped down to the gravel.
"You hungry," she asked after she took off the helmet. “Want to come in?”
I shook my head no. I’d fucked up today and my guess was the shrink had already called Miller, maybe even filed charges. If I couldn’t keep myself out of trouble for a goddamned day, I had no right dragging Sky into my problems. She had enough on her plate.
“Think I’ll just head back to the club. I’ll call Rough from there and offer to pay for the damages myself. I can try to help you find a new therapist or whatever would help. I was just supposed to give you a ride; I can’t believe how much I fucked up.”
Sky nodded; it wasn’t judgmental. She simply seemed to agree with my assessment without condemning my actions.
“We can’t help who we are. And I like who you are, Dex,” she told me earnestly. Her long hair fell over her shoulder and I caught a glimmer of my locket on her soft skin. “If you want to come in, I think my parents will understand what happened. All I ever do is mess up and they’ve accepted me unconditionally. I can’t imagine them being mad at your instinct to protect me. When Malcolm first heard my screams, he beat the man up who was hurting me.” She shrugged her shoulders intoning that it wasn’t a big deal. But there was a fundamental right and wrong to this world and I had to hold that fast in my grip in order to not go crazy. The bad ones you maim, therapists trying to help others shouldn’t fall into that category. Maybe if I had full hearing I wouldn’t get so taken over by my emotions.
“I get where you’re coming from, Skylar. But I think I gotta get my head on straight before I start socializing.”
She nodded in resignation, shoved her hands in her pockets and then pulled them out and signed, “See you later.”
I signed back, “Later,” and she broke into a luminous smile.
When I rode away into the darkness, the light from inside Sky seemed to guide the way. Her capacity for forgiveness was bigger than mine. Her beauty and goodness would be a thorn in my side if I didn’t step up my game. While Sky seemed to be breaking free of her cage, I was so far gone, I wrapped myself up in my own chains.
…
I called Malcolm as soon as I got to the club and straightened out the mess. It was convenient for all of us that he was the DA, but I still didn’t want to abuse his position nor his generosity, but Rough understood my past and where I came from. He knew that street smarts didn’t always translate to the real world.
“Trust me, brother, Claire did her homework on this guy and this technique. I had my doubts, especially after the panic attack, but Sky has been making progress. But I don’t blame you one bit. I hear my girl scream, I see red. There’s nothing that can quite pull the emergency alarm like the scream of your loved ones. He wants the case fixed. I’ve already transferred the money. He’s transferring her to another practitioner and the location is actually closer to the house. All in all, no harm done, Dex. Your heart’s in the right place and we all know it.”
Malcolm was more of a father to me than my own old man had been. He went out on a limb for me more than anyone else ever had.
“I’m working on the triggers. I just feel like shit for scaring her. Could you put her on the phone, Rough so I can apologize again?”
“Dex, she took off. Ate some lasagna, garlic bread, then packed up a plate and grabbed her keys. Probably dropped it off for some friend. Just call her cell. But, son, she’s not mad.”
Oh shit. I heard a bit of commotion from out in the main clubhouse.
“Rough, I gotta go. I’ll call you back later,” I said. I hung up the phone, ran my fingers through my hair and searched for a clean shirt. Yanking it over my head, I tucked my piece into my pants and bolted for the entrance. Sure enough when I walked in, the place was popping off like a regular Friday night, drinking and dancing, darts and pool, lots of club whores and smoke you could barely see through. There at the entrance was Skylar Baxter Miller standing with a tinfoil covered plate and a sweet smile on her face. Her long wavy hair was pulled up into a topknot, she had on jean shorts and a white peasant blouse, cowboy boots and gold rimmed glasses. Her lips were pink and her eyes were wide as she took in the whole room. All it took was for me to see one prospect looking at her and I flew across the room.