Page 27 of Keeping Skylar (Fractured Hearts #1)

Kaden

“How about a refill, Jase?” I call out to my best friend, lifting my empty shot glass in the air. I’ve been sitting inside Hawkins Bar for the last hour, delaying the inevitable return home after leaving the office for the day.

For the past few weeks, this has been my nightly routine as things between Lucia and me grow increasingly strained at home. With the tension continuing to build, I’ve found myself heading to the bar straight after work far more often than I should.

It began with minor disagreements—like forgetting to take out the rubbish or bringing home the wrong takeaway. But over time, those small annoyances escalated into full-blown arguments—about the messy state of the house, or me stumbling in drunk yet again.

No matter what the reasons were, they always ended the same way: either with us ignoring each other or fucking the anger out of our system. This is what our relationship has become, a relentless, vicious cycle that we can’t seem to break.

A few weeks after Skylar left, Lucia and I decided it was best for me to move in with her.

There was no way I could stay in the house I’d bought with my wife, surrounded by the ghosts of our life together.

I couldn’t bear to live there without her.

So, I put the house up for lease, packed everything into storage, and moved in with Lucia—bringing only the essentials.

Life has been a chain of disasters ever since.

I still haven’t recovered from Skylar’s disappearance—I think about her constantly, and the ache of missing her only grows stronger each day.

I’ve reached out to just about everyone she knew, but no one’s saying a damn thing.

My calls, texts, and emails go unanswered, and I can’t even see if she’s doing okay because she’s deactivated all her social media accounts.

Trying to find my wife feels like searching for a grain of rice in a soccer field—damn near impossible.

Sky’s family and friends all hate me, and they’ve made it painfully clear that they want me out of her life for good.

But I love my wife—so much that I’m desperate to bring her back home and beg for her forgiveness.

I’ve even considered hiring a private investigator just to see if she’s safe.

But I know if Lucia ever caught wind of that, there would be absolute hell to pay.

So, that brings me to here, drunk at the bar, where I spend most nights drowning my sorrows and trying to escape the shitstorm I created.

Jason watches me from behind the bar, likely weighing whether it’s time to cut me off after my fifth shot of whiskey. Or is it my sixth? Who the fuck knows!

“Going to have to cut you off after this, bro,” he says sternly as he slides my glass of liquid courage across the bar counter. God knows I’m gonna need it for when I come face to face with the wicked witch at home. This is what my life has come to!

I wave him away, ignoring his warning, and snatch my glass from the counter for a generous sip, savouring the smooth oaky taste as it burns its way down my throat. “Ahh, nothing quenches your thirst quite like good ol’ Gentleman Jack,” I mutter to myself.

As I glance around the room, I nearly tumble out of my chair, saved at the last second by my unexpectedly quick reflexes.

Jason growls at the sight and shakes his head in irritation. He’s been doing that a lot lately—looking at me like I’m a goddamn inconvenience. “Go home, Kaden. You’ve had enough for one night,” he commands, his tone firm and authoritative.

“I’m not done yet,” I slur, lifting my half-empty shot glass to highlight my point. “I still have my drink to finish.”

Jason huffs out a sigh. “Why not just drink at home? It would save you the hassle of getting an Uber every night and spare Chris from having to drive your car home again. It’s becoming quite an inconvenience, you know,” he snaps.

“I just need a break from home life, is that so much of a crime?” I ask rhetorically. I take another small sip of my whiskey as his gaze lingers on me.

“What’s going on with you lately?”

“You know exactly what’s going on, Jase. Lucia’s suddenly become this raging hormonal bitch, and my wife is still fucking missing! Everyone refuses to tell me where she is, including you!” I shout, jabbing my finger in his direction.

“Look, I already told you I have no idea where she is. But make no mistake, Kaden, even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you,” he snaps back, his intense glare daring me to argue with him.

“Well, that’s just fucking great. Even my best friend is against me.” I lean back on the stool, arms crossed over my chest, attempting to suppress the anger simmering inside.

“Kaden, I’m not against you. I never have been, and I never will be.

Sure, you’ve made some really stupid mistakes and have hurt a lot of people, but I’m still your friend.

I’ll be here for you to help you get through this, just as you did throughout my divorce.

However, if there’s one thing I can’t help you with, it’s to help find Skylar. ”

I breathe out a resigned sigh. “I know, and I’m not mad at you. I’m just feeling really frustrated that, after all this time, I still haven’t heard anything from her. It’s really tearing me apart, Jase,” I choke out.

Jason looks at me with complete pity in his eyes.

“Look, I get it. It feels worse when things are left unresolved. But can you really blame Sky? She was hurt and betrayed in the worst possible way by two people she loved and trusted. As much as you don’t want to hear this, Kaden, you just need to accept that she’s gone and may not be coming back. ”

Hearing those words hit harder than a sharp blow to the gut.

I know my wife is gone and that she might never want to see or hear from me again.

Yet, my heart clings to her, refusing to let go or move on.

Even after moving in with Lucia and continuing my relationship with her, a part of me still feels incomplete, like a missing piece of a puzzle.

Sky has always held my heart, and now, she’s taken it along with her.

I down the rest of my whiskey in one swift gulp and turn to face Jason, who’s been quietly watching my every move. “I should head out. Lucy’s probably going to have my head on a wooden pike if I stay out any longer. Thanks for the chat, Jase.”

With that, I slowly rise and throw Jason a two-finger salute. He gives me a small nod in return. I wobble slightly as I hop down from the chair, unsteady on my feet, then stagger outside to wait for an Uber.

As I wait for my ride, I mentally brace myself for yet another potential round of verbal sparring with Lucia the moment I step through the door.

It’s the same shit every time I get home from the bar—her standing there with that familiar scowl, locked and loaded with accusations. By now, I should be used to it.

After several minutes, my Uber pulls up to the curb, and I stumble into the backseat, hoping, once again, I don’t fall asleep and get booted out of the car.

I stagger into the house, with all the grace of a baby elephant, and Lucia, standing behind the kitchen counter, immediately clocks my drunken state.

The disgust and annoyance radiating from her are impossible to miss—I swear I can almost see steam rising off her skin.

With her arms crossed and jaw clenched, I brace myself for the inevitable third degree.

“Hi, baby.” I grin sweetly at her.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, her body unnaturally tense. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, Kaden?” she snaps, her voice filled with contempt. “Why bother coming home if you prefer staying at the bar and getting plastered every night?”

I walk towards her, unhurried, slipping off my suit jacket and tossing it onto the barstool as I go. When I reach her, I gently place my hands on her shoulders. She doesn’t pull away, but I can feel her body tense under my touch. “Baby, please ... can we just be civil for one night?” I beg.

She steps away from me, and strides over to the oven, pulling out a box of pizza.

With a sharp slam, she sets it down on the counter, shooting me a furious scowl.

“We were supposed to have a nice night in, like we agreed this morning!” she snaps.

“I ordered pizza and waited for you. I texted and called multiple times, and you never answered.” She shakes her head, frustration boiling over.

“When all this time you were at the bar, getting hammered again! I am so fucking angry at you, Kaden!” Her voice rises, sharp and loud, and I’m pretty sure our entire neighbourhood just heard her.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, baby. The thought slipped my mind. I had a bad day at work and just needed a drink to help me unwind.”

“Then you come home to me, your fucking girlfriend! You don’t need to go to a bar to help you relax. You have me for that, for crying out loud!”

“I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Here ...” I grab the pizza box and lift the lid. She ordered a supreme. I fucking hate supreme! “We can still eat and watch a movie. The night is still young,” I reassure her.

Her arms are crossed again as she shakes her head.

“No, I’m not in the mood anymore. I’m going to bed.

” She snatches her phone from the counter and storms off towards our bedroom.

Seconds later, I hear the door slam, and I flop onto the stool, thinking about all the ways I keep messing up with all the women in my life.

After wallowing in self-pity, I take a shower and do my best to pull myself together before heading into the bedroom.

As I enter the room, I see Lucia propped up against the bedhead, giggling softly while typing something on her phone.

I’ve noticed that she’s been on her phone a little more, often texting someone at unusual hours.

When I asked Lucia who she was chatting with, she said it was the new teacher she’s been working with this year at the school.

They apparently hit it off so well that they started hanging out after work, much like she and Skylar used to.

The only thing I know about this new friend is that she’s in her mid-thirties, married, and has a school-aged kid.

Lucia’s head snaps up when she hears me entering the room, and releases a frustrated breath. I brush it off and slowly approach the bed.

I remove my shirt and trackpants, leaving only my boxer briefs on, and slip into bed. She plugs in her phone and turns off the lamp. Without a word, Lucia turns onto her side, facing away from me, effectively shutting me out.

Frustrated that we’re going to bed angry yet again, I shift closer to her and gently run my hand along the curve of her waist. She doesn’t flinch or push my hand away, so I press on with my intentions.

I press my lips on her bare shoulder and, this time, she flinches and scoots further toward the edge of the bed.

“I’m not in the mood tonight, Kaden.”

I let out an exasperated sigh and roll onto my back. How did I end up here—married to one woman who is currently MIA, while in a relationship with another who seems to resent me more each day?

I foolishly believed that once we were free to be together, our relationship would thrive.

I pictured us growing closer, falling deeper for each other, and building an extraordinary life side by side.

But in reality, our relationship is unravelling faster than I ever anticipated.

Now, as I lie in bed, doubt creeps in, and I can’t help but wonder if I made a grave mistake sacrificing my marriage to be with my mistress.

My mind floods with memories of Sky and me, pulling me back to a time when life felt simple and full of joy—a stark contrast to the pain and emptiness I carry now. I find myself yearning for her, aching to hold my wife in my arms once more.

As my eyes grow heavy with sleep, I make another silent prayer for my sweet, precious Skylar—just as I do every night.

God, please ... if you’re listening, if you even care, just keep her safe wherever she is.

I know I don’t deserve it—not after everything I did, everything I failed to do.

But if there’s even the smallest chance, please let me make this right.

I’ll be a better husband—a better man. I’ll do just about anything.

Just please ... give me one more chance. Bring her home, home to me!