Page 9 of Downfall

She sighs. “I was with my dad. He was driving, and I⁠—”

“You what?”

“He took his seatbelt off to get something from the backseat. I was looking down at my phone. Neither of us saw the deer until it was too late.”

“Is he—” I’m not sure why the words get caught in my throat. It’s not like I really knew Skyler’s father. He came to all the lacrosse games to support Ash and gave me dirty looks on the few occasions I actually showed my face at the front door instead of climbing through her window, but other than that, I think I’ve maybe exchanged five words with the man. Golden boy Ash, on the other hand, was like the son he never had. It made me hate her dad a little bit. Not because I was jealous, but because he didn't appreciate his daughter since she wasn't on a sports team and didn’t want to follow in his footsteps by becoming a CEO.

“He was killed instantly.” I’m not sure what startles me more, her blunt words or the detached, emotionless way she utters them, like she’s merely reporting it on the evening news. Her voice no longer cracks like it did moments ago.

“Jesus, Sky. I’m⁠—”

“We weren’t close,” she interrupts. “I mean, I didn’t want him to die, obviously, but…it’s complicated, you know?”

Yeah, I would say I know what having a complicated paternal relationship feels like, but I don’t say that. Neither of us ever really talked about our parents back then. Some vague comments here and there, but I think we didn’t want to make our time together about anything other than us. I always had a feeling her father was the reason for her incessant apologies, though, and that made me hate him more than a little.

“Anyway, I was still wearing my seatbelt, so it was just a fractured wrist. Lucky me.” Sarcasm colors her words as she wiggles the fingers sticking out of her cast, clearly feeling the effects of the champagne and whatever else she’s had before I got here. “What about you?”

With each sip, her eyes grow softer, and she looks a little less like she wants to stab me with an oyster fork. Eventually, she puts her arms through the sleeves of my jacket, allowing the leather to envelop her. I feel only slightly guilty talking to her this way. Sure, I’m taking advantage of her intoxicated state, but I’m too selfish to let it end. Still, maybe I should at least get on her level. No way in hell am I drinking that bubbly shit she’s downing, but I still have my flask.

“What about me?” I ask her, unscrewing the metal container and taking a swig. The burn of the whiskey isn't nearly as good as the first pull of a cigarette, but it will have to do.

She points the bottle at me, squinting her left eye. “Where’d you get the shiner, Declan?” She giggles, slamming the wine down on the table before deepening her voice. “Or should I say ‘who did this to you?’”

She’s mocking me, and somehow I love her even more for it. I could lie, but something about the vulnerable state she’s in makes me want to tell the truth for once in my life. Then again, if she knew the real reason for it, she’d blame herself. I know she would. That’s just who she is. In the end, I decide to give her as close to the truth as I can.

“Apparently bikers are really protective of their sisters. Who knew?”

It’s only once the words leave my mouth that I realize how she might take them, but instead of anger, I’m met with merely a small nod of understanding before she downs the rest of the champagne, shaking the bottle over the ground when she realizes there’s nothing left.

“Look, I didn’t mean⁠—”

“You got a cigarette?” she slurs, placing the now-empty bottle haphazardly at the edge of the table.

The unexpected change of subject pulls a deep chuckle from my throat because the mere thought of Skylar Galloway smoking a cigarette is absurd.

“What?” Her eyes snap to mine, an incredulous pout forming across her lips.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

She looks up at me through long lashes. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Declan Astor.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“Like the fact that I smoke.” She pinches the necklace she’s wearing. It’s a delicate gold chain with a locket attached to it. “Especially after sex,” she adds, peeking up at me to gauge my reaction. “There’s nothing like a good cigarette after fucking, you know?”

“You’d have to fuck to know,” I say, and don’t correct her when she takes it the wrong way.

“I’ve fucked plenty of guys, Declan. Tons, in fact.”

She continues fiddling with the locket, and even though I know she’s trying to mess with me, I can’t help the anger that radiates down my spine. What if a boyfriend gave her that locket? I picture some fucker moving her hair to the side so he can clasp it in the back. Was she naked? Did his hand dip down to graze her tits? Was it after⁠—

“Are you going to answer my question or what?”

Her voice interrupts my internal spiral. That’s right. She asked me if I had a cigarette. I would scold her for pretending to smoke if she didn’t look so damn cute right now. I shouldn’t humor her, but it’s hard not to give her exactly what she wants when she’s looking up at me with those big, mossy eyes.

“Yeah, I have a cigarette.” I dig into my pocket, pulling out my half-smoked pack and lighter. I practically chain-smoked this morning as I wore a hole in the floor of Luke’s garage. Turns out someone did fuck with my bike, which I found out the hard way when my engine stalled on the way home from Cade’s the other day. That’s not what had me filling my lungs with carcinogens for the better part of an hour, though. No, as usual, my mind raced with thoughts of the freckled redhead sitting in front of me. The same one who is now biting her lip in anticipation as I pull a cigarette out of the pack.

Placing the stick between my lips, I light the tip, inhaling slightly to make sure it’s lit. The instant buzz settles through my bones, simultaneously calming me and setting off the neurotransmitters telling me I need more, but I ignore the cravings. Pinching it between my thumb and forefinger, I hand it over to an eager Skylar. She takes it from me with her good hand, raising it to her lips and taking a tentative puff.