Page 27 of Desert Sky (RB MC #4)

SKYE

I heard the footsteps before I saw him. Heavy. Dangerous. Each one a loaded gun click in the silence of the cellar.

The door creaked open, and JD descended, slow and buzzed, whiskey anger radiating from every inch of him.

I sat up straight, my chains clinking.

This man was not the JD I remembered. Not the boy who gave me his jacket when I shivered, who kissed me like I was made of moonlight. This man… he was hard. I did that to him. Made him this way…

His shirt clung to him, unbuttoned at the throat, the sleeves rolled, veins snaking down his arms like lightning strikes. His eyes were molten. Torched. He reeked of expensive scotch and war.

He dropped to a crouch in front of me.

“Skye,” he breathed, like the name hurt.

I reached for him. “Shhh.” I pressed my fingers to his mouth, then leaned up and kissed him softly—desperately. “Just… lay with me. For a second. ”

He resisted for a beat, then gave in, letting me pull him down beside me.

“I never stopped loving you,” I whispered, “for a long time.”

He flinched.

I swallowed. “I left because you deserved Boston. You deserved to chase your dreams, and I knew your parents would never let you have any peace if you stayed with me.”

He stiffened. “Bullshit.”

“I heard them whisper, JD. Heard the town talk. Northport and your trailer park girl. I’d never fit in. I was a stain on your future.”

His mouth curled in a snarl. “I’m sick of your lies.”

My breath caught as he reached into his pocket and pulled out something small. Cold.

A ring.

The ring. Gold with his family crest. The one he used to spin around on his pinky and swore he’d put on my finger one day.

My eyes went wide.

“You want to talk about stains? About lies?” His voice cracked. “Tell me about the man from the library.”

I shook my head, tears brimming. “It wasn’t real. None of it. I faked it. To throw you off. So you'd stop looking.”

His chest rose and fell like a man on the edge.

He stared at the ring. “I wasted my heart on you,” he said, voice like ice. “Maybe you *were* the good-for-nothing girl my mama always said you were.”

The words hit like knives.

I gasped, tears spilling over. “JD—no?—”

He stood. Cold steel in every movement.

“I need to go make it right with my girl,” he said flatly. “Evie deserves the truth. ”

“Don’t,” I choked out. “Please. Don’t go to her.”

He ignored me.

“Unchain me, JD.”

He paused at the door.

But didn’t look back.

Then he left again. This time the taste of whiskey lingered on my lips.