Page 10 of Tracing Her Stolen Identity (Secure Watch #2)

Her head was pounding, and she could thank her crying jag for that.

The worst part was they hadn’t even gotten into the nitty-gritty regarding the list Mina wanted.

She’d been thinking about it since Mina had brought it up, and there was only one guy she could think of who might have it out for her this badly.

Miles Bradshaw.

She’d run afoul of him without ever having met him in the beginning.

He was another artist from the area who believed he should be the only artist. Miles didn’t subscribe to the idea that there was room in this world for everyone’s talents.

He’d made sure she knew that at their last run-in a few months ago.

The sounds from the kitchen ceased, and Sky glanced up to see Reece walking toward her with a mug in each hand and a bag of cookies between his teeth.

She couldn’t help but smile at the look of domestication it gave him.

The way he moved, even with a bag of chocolate chip cookies dangling from his lips, was like watching a lion stalk its prey.

She remembered how he used to take flak at school for doing cheer instead of football.

His response was always the same: He’d say running around the field and chasing a ball was a skill.

Holding another human being over your head on one hand was a skill at a level they’d never achieve.

It made her smile every time she heard it.

He wasn’t wrong. Cheer was a sport, and it was a challenging sport that tested your endurance and skill in competition.

Few understood that, but they had never cared what anyone else thought.

It was a sport they could do together when everything else was separated by gender.

Since the accident, people had asked her if she regretted it.

Her answer was always the same: No. Nothing in life is guaranteed.

When you take risks, sometimes you get big rewards.

Sometimes you’re disappointed. That’s just life.

She wouldn’t give up all those memories they’d made together because of one night.

Those were the terms she came to early on after her injury.

Living in the past wasn’t living, so she refused to do it.

Except when it came to Land. He was a part of her past she couldn’t let go.

The ghost of who they could have been haunted her every day of her life.

They’d never gotten closure—about the accident or their relationship.

Maybe they could have that now. Would she love to have him in her life?

Yes. Would she allow it? Not unless he understood that she would never let them be more than friends.

Skylar had accepted the reality of her world, but she would never ask Reece to sign up for it, too.

That was why she’d pushed him away all those years ago.

You were always my land, but now I am your sky, so use me to be free.

“Coffee, as you wish, madam,” he said around the bag in his mouth as he set the cups down.

“I see you still don’t like to make two trips.” Sky winked with a smile, which brought one to his face when he took the cookie bag from his mouth.

“Not if I can help it,” he replied, picking up her cup and handing it to her so she didn’t have to lean forward to get it.

He was always thoughtful that way, even before her accident.

His friends teased him about waiting on her, but he would turn to them and say, “If you need lessons on how to treat a woman with respect, I have openings on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” That memory brought a smile to her lips that she hid behind the cup’s rim.

Reece wore his confidence like a fine suit and never let anyone cut him down.

After they’d shared a few cookies, he grabbed a notepad and sat across from her. “It’s time to make that list for Mina. Someone on the team will work on it overnight and update us with anything they may find in the morning. First, we have to give them somewhere to start.”

Skylar watched him tap his pen on the notebook as though they were having a normal conversation about everyday life instead of making a list of people who hated her.

Reece had always been strong, but he was never the silent type.

She could see that had changed. He had changed.

Some of it was growing up, but some parts seemed to come from a different place within him—from pain and anger, two things he still carried—and she could tell it was a heavy load.

“I’ve been thinking about it since Mina asked. The only serious aggravator in my life is Miles Bradshaw.”

Reece wrote the name down on the pad. “Tell me about him.”

“He’s a local artist from Duluth. You’re his competition if you color a picture on a restaurant placemat.”

“One of those, eh?” he asked with a lip tilt. “Gotta love people with the ideology that the world isn’t big enough for everyone.”

“That’s Miles to a T,” she agreed, resting the coffee cup on her leg. Thankfully, he’d put it in a travel mug so it wouldn’t spill.

“What is his exact beef with you?”

“We both do mosaics,” she explained. “Miles would rather I didn’t.”

Reece rolled his eyes, bringing another smile to her lips. “I’ve seen some of your work. Your pieces are gorgeous, and they’re always so colorful.”

Her insides warmed for a moment before the meaning of the sentence struck her. “You’ve seen my work?” If that was true, that meant he had been keeping track of her all these years. When she gave him up, it had been so he would forget about her, not continue to look after her.

“Around the area,” he said vaguely. “Shops and places. They always have the artist’s name under each piece.”

That fear seeped away a little but was quickly replaced with the gnawing regret she always had in the pit of her stomach. He wasn’t seeking her out, which was what she wanted, so why did it feel so cutting to know the truth?

“That’s probably Miles’s biggest beef.” She cleared her throat when she heard the sadness in her words. “He doesn’t think my work should be in these shops. He feels it’s deceptive to the customer, despite each display fully explaining how the piece is created.”

“Because your mosaics are made from recycled glass?” he asked, and she nodded once. He must have noticed the surprise on her face. “I read the information near the display.”

“Right, well, yes. He doesn’t think I should be selling something made from ‘junk,’” she said, putting junk in quotations.

“One man’s junk is another man’s treasure.” She motioned at him with one hand as she sipped her coffee. “What does he make his mosaics from?”

“Glass, but his are more—” She waved her hand while searching for the right word. “Commercialized?”

“You tell me,” he answered.

“It’s a good word. There’s nothing wrong with commercialized art, but that’s not what people look for in the shops around this area.”

“Which means yours sell because they are unique and his sit because they aren’t.”

“If you want to boil it down to one sentence, then yes, that’s accurate. Miles’s work is nice but doesn’t stand out as unique. It doesn’t scream, hang me on your wall! In fact, several of the galleries have stopped carrying his work altogether.”

“If it doesn’t sell, they’re not going to give it shelf space,” he agreed, tapping his pen on his paper.

“Correct. Especially when some of his art was proven to be manufactured.”

“As in purchased and passed off as his own?” His brow went up, and she nodded. “This was confirmed?”

“By yours truly,” she said with a grimace.

“Seriously?” When she nodded again, he leaned forward. “Has he confronted you about this?”

“Multiple times,” she agreed, recalling the last time Miles had cornered her.

“Your expression just changed. Tell me about it.”

“You always could read my expressions,” she said, hold ing the empty mug out for him to take, which he did, setting it aside.

“Better than your own mother, she always used to say. When did you last tangle with this guy?”

Reece’s words were stiff, and the question was asked through clenched teeth.

He had always been her protector. Right or wrong, he’d stood between her and anyone who wanted to hurt her.

He let her fight her own battles, but he made it known he was there to wade in if necessary.

He didn’t care if it was a teacher, friend or family member—no one who meant her harm was getting past him.

This situation felt like a full circle that neither of them was prepared for emotionally.

Binate hadn’t given them a choice, though, and she had to remember it was Reece’s literal job to protect her now, nothing else.

“He was the reason I went up the shore to finish my portfolio,” she admitted.

“He cornered me at a show around the end of February. He’d just learned another gallery planned to stop hosting his work, and he was angry.

I get it. It’s hard being a struggling artist, but as I explained to him, the galleries make their own choices.

I wasn’t even hosted in the gallery that dropped him, but he still blamed me.

He said I was cheapening the art form by using junk and cheating the system by not paying for my supplies like everyone else had to.

That I used my disability as a card to get special favors. ”

“I was waiting for that. He sounds like the kind of guy who would throw those words at you.”

“And worse,” Skylar agreed with an eye roll. “He has no filter and isn’t afraid to be loud about it. The organizer caught on that I was not enjoying the conversation and kicked him out.”

“ Out out?” he asked with a lift of his brow.