10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Lacey

Skylar's mom is adorable.

After awkward introductions were made, she immediately wrapped me in a hug and insisted I join them for dinner.

"I'm making Shepherd's Pie tonight, Skylar's favourite." Amber Vin looks at me with a mischievous glint in her pale blue eyes, "He would be so disappointed if you didn't join us, isn't that right, honey?"

Skylar, who hasn't stopped glaring at his mom since she stepped into the room, finally looks over at me. His cheeks are stained pink and there's an embarrassed glow in his eyes.

"You're welcome to join. Don't feel like you have to, though."

I smile, "I would love to join you for dinner."

Placing my hand on his arm, I give him a reassuring squeeze. Amber tilts her head, tracking the movement and I quickly drop my hand .

"That's settled then. Once you two finish up here, come on over and we'll have a proper catch up." She beams, "I'm so glad I decided to visit Betty today!"

Skylar narrows his eyes, "I'm sure that's exactly what happened."

"Oh, hush. You know that woman loves to socialize." Amber tugs at the grey cardigan draped over her shoulders, "I'll see you two in a little bit, okay?"

"See you soon!"

Giving her a parting wave, I watch Skylar's mom disappear from the romance section. The moment she's out of sight, I turn to Skylar with a smile, "Your mom is awesome."

"She's a busybody." He sighs, "But yeah, she's pretty awesome."

"And very pretty. I can see where you get it from."

He blinks, "You think I'm pretty?"

Panic trickles through me as I press my book tight against my chest. I made the mistake of saying something similar to Jerrell once, complementing his pretty boy features, but it didn't have the effect I intended.

"I-I didn't mean to say that." I swallow, feeling heat rise onto my cheeks, "Please don't be mad."

First you don't put out and now you're calling me pretty. Jesus, Lacey. Why the fuck do I put up with you?

"Flower." Mismatched irises peer at me, pulling me back to the present, "You just complimented me. Why would I be mad at you? "

I clutch my book tighter, using it as a protective shield, "Because it's not something you're supposed to say to a guy. I didn't mean to offend you, I promise."

"I'm not offended. I'm flattered."

My eyes widen as I bring them back to Skylar's face, the sincerity in his tone matching the warmth in his gaze.

"Oh."

Skylar tilts his head, the fluorescent lighting casting a shadow over the definition of his cheekbones. I meant what I said, the sharp edges of his face give him a delicate silhouette that is as unusual as it is beautiful.

"Someone asked me if I was an albino the other day. Being called pretty is probably the best compliment I've gotten all year."

A laugh escapes me, "I don't think you look like an albino."

Skylar shrugs, "It doesn't matter if I do. The point is you can say anything you want around me, Flower. I will never judge you for speaking your mind."

Letting the book fall from my chest, I feel my walls start to crumble.

It took me a long time to realize my past relationship was toxic in many ways, but one of the worst parts was the easy way Jerrell could manipulate me. With a couple of cruel words, he could twist any situation so I came out looking like the bad guy.

There was so much guilt for so long that I got into the habit of apologizing before I even knew what I had done wrong. It seems silly now, looking back, but at the time it was the easiest way to appease Jerrell and keep the hurtful words to a minimum.

I open my mouth to thank him, but Skylar cuts me off with a shake of his head.

"I will always be honest with you, and you're welcome to return the favour, but you never have to thank me. Okay?"

I nod, trying to keep the tears at bay. Skylar leans over to grab his romance novel lying on the love seat before gently taking my hand.

"I think it's time we got some dinner. Apparently it's my favourite tonight."

He delivers the line with a straight face, but the teasing glint in his eyes gives him away. I laugh, tears forgotten, as our fingers intertwine and Skylar leads us out of the bookstore.

"And here's Skylar as a baby."

Amber passes me the photograph with a wide grin and I bite back a laugh. Skylar declared himself in charge of clean-up the moment his mom insisted on showing me the family photo albums. I'm not sure if his mom is purposefully trying to embarrass him or just trying to welcome me into the family.

Either way, it's working.

"He's so cute." I smile, looking at baby Skylar beaming into the camera. His chubby face is full of expression, so unlike the boy I've gotten to know over the last few days.

"He was such a happy kid. Never stopped smiling." Glancing over her shoulder conspicuously, Amber drops her voice to a whisper, "Don't tell him I told you, but Skylar has the most beautiful smile. It doesn't come out very often, but when it does, look out."

"Oh, I know. The first time I saw it, I nearly had a heart attack."

I'm expecting her to laugh, but instead, Amber sits up and grabs my arm. I jump in surprise, her small hands gripping me with a surprising amount of strength.

"When did you see him smile?"

"Uh…" I trail off, trying to remember, "He smiled when we were talking in his car earlier today. Maybe in the bookstore as well."

Amber's eyes well up with tears, "You made my boy smile."

"Well, I wouldn't say that-

"Thank you." She grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly, "Thank you, Lacey."

Unsure of what to do, I glance over the back of the couch and peek into the kitchen. Skylar's back is to us, his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows as he silently washes the dishes from dinner.

The Vin household's main floor is split into a kitchen and a living room that overflows into the staircase leading upstairs. Like the rest of Silverwood, the house is small but quaint, its open concept leaving room for natural light to filter through the paned windows. The walls are a soft yellow and the kitchen cupboards are a pristine white that look as though they've been replaced within the last few years.

Clearing her throat, Amber releases my hand with a sad laugh, "Don't mind me, I have a tendency of being overly emotional. Let's try and find some older pictures of our boy."

Our boy.

My heart swells at the simple distinction. Dropping my gaze back down to the photo album, I watch Amber flip through the pages until she reaches middle school.

"Oh, this is such a good one! Here he is at a cross country meet." She slides the picture out of its slot and passes it to me.

"Has he always been a runner?"

Bringing the picture closer, I study the two boys in the shot. Their arms are thrown around each other, the grey jerseys screaming out the school logo.

"Skylar? Oh, no. He used to hate running. His older brother made him join the team just to get him out of the house." Amber smiles wistfully, "They used to be so close."

I squint at the photo, trying to pick out Skylar. Both of the boys in the photograph are short and lean, their white-blond hair identical except for length.

"They look like twins."

Amber laughs, "They sure did. Until Vector hit his growth spurt, we didn't think either of them would ever grow taller than 6'0. The Vin brothers were known for being small and quick until puberty hit."

"Thank God it did. "

The raspy voice hits my ear and I startle, turning around to see a massive man towering over us. My eyes widen as I take in the grey t-shirt stretched tight across his muscular frame, his biceps bulging from beneath sweat-stained sleeves.

Amber shifts on the couch to face him, "Hi, honey. I thought you were staying over at a friend's house tonight."

The guy grins, "I was until I heard Skylar brought a girl home. Thought I'd pop over and introduce myself."

Those pale blue eyes do a quick sweep of my body and I feel myself stiffen. Amber reaches over and pats my hand, offering some unexpected reassurance.

"Lacey, right?" He tilts his head, a sly smile spreading across his face, "It's nice to meet you."

"I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"No? Skylar has been holding out on you." He clicks his tongue, "I'm Vector, the older and better looking Vin brother."

" You are Skylar's brother?"

I look back down at the photograph in disbelief. Assuming Vector kept his hair the same length, that would make him the guy standing on the right. Besides the unusual hair colour, the scrawny figure smiling at the camera looks nothing like the guy standing above me.

Vector sighs, "I know. I stole all the good genes in the family. My poor brother took after our mother's side of the family."

"Is that what happened? "

Skylar steps forward with a dish towel slung over one shoulder. Standing next to each other, the two brothers look like night and day.

Only coming up to his brother's shoulder, Skylar's narrow chest is less than half the size. But the differences don't end there. Where Skylar is made up of delicate skin and sharp angles, Vector's face is like a square, his jaw bulky and uneven while his skin is spotted with faint traces of acne.

Throwing me a wink, Vector turns to his brother with a grin, "I also took the time to learn a little thing called weight lifting. Sky always preferred more… neutral settings."

Skylar takes the jab without a word and I frown at him. Vector is trying to put on a power play, knocking his little brother down in front of a stranger, and I don't like it one bit.

"I've always thought art takes a lot more skill than weight lifting." I shrug, meeting Skylar's eyes, "Anyone can hit the gym, but not everyone can draw something worth looking at."

Silence descends upon the living room, but I don't feel bothered by it. A warm glow has filled Skylar's eyes, and the knowledge that I put it there spreads the warmth all the way to my heart.

"I like her."

Vector breaks the silence with a laugh, giving his brother a pat on the back, "Try not to fuck this one up."

"Language." Amber shifts to give her son a stern glare, "Don't make me wash your mouth out with soap, young man. You know I'll do it. "

"Cruel woman."

Vector grins and bends down to plant a kiss on his mom's cheek. She laughs, swatting him away, and the motion sends the cardigan sliding off her shoulder.

Warped skin becomes exposed as the grey material slinks past her forearm, displaying crisscrossed lines of scar tissue dancing its way up Amber's body.

A gasp escapes my mouth and the room falls silent once more.

Skylar

"Amber, what happened to your arm?"

Lacey puts a hand over her mouth, as if that might erase the scars decorating my mother's body. Vector stiffens next to me and I drop my gaze to the floor.

"Oh, these are old scars." Amber laughs as if she can't feel the tension in the room, "My ex-husband knocked over a vase and I was silly enough to fall into the mess."

Vector clenches his hands, the anger visible from the bulging tendons running down his thick arms. My own frustration pricks at me, but I shut it down quickly, refusing to let it ignite.

"That's horrible." Lacey bites her lip, "Does it still hurt?"

"Not at all. When you're as clumsy as I am, you get used to having a few bumps and bruises."

The lie slides out of her mouth as easily as it did back when she was wearing long sleeves to cover up the bruises my father would leave behind.

Even after all these years, she still makes excuses for him .

"Jesus Christ." Shaking his head in disgust, Vector turns and storms from the living room. Amber watches him go, her brows knitting together when she hears the front door slam shut.

"I better go talk to him." She sighs, "Skylar, why don't you show Lacey the rest of the house? I'm sure she would love to see some of your artwork."

Ignoring the sting in my chest, I step forward to help her get off the couch, but she stubbornly shakes her head. Lacey and I both watch as she struggles to push herself up off the cushions, the painful wince when she lands on her feet impossible to miss.

"Behave and I'll let you keep your bedroom door closed." Amber cracks the joke, giving me a quick hug as she shuffles past, "Just remember to be responsible. I'm too young to have grandchildren."

"Mom."

"I'm just saying, use your head to think and your heart to feel. Don't let your other anatomy take control."

Her laughter echoes down the hall and I turn back to my blushing flower.

"Humour is her defence mechanism when things get uncomfortable." I clear my throat, trying to keep the pain from spiralling out of control, "You get used to it after a while."

"It's okay. Nico does the same thing."

"Nico?"

"He's my closest friend." Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she looks at me shyly, "Besides you, that is."

I stare at her, feeling a balloon inflate inside my chest .

The few relationships I've had over the years never worked out because no one could see past the tortured soul who needed saving. The broken boy with the messy family.

The problem was, I wasn't looking to be fixed.

I was looking for a friend.

Lacey bites her lip, shifting her gaze from me to the staircase, "Do you want to show me your room?"

"Do you want to see it?"

She hesitates, "Yeah, I think I do."

I swallow, trying to calm my sudden nerves, "Follow me."

Pushing herself off the couch, Lacey follows me up the stairs and down the narrow hall to my bedroom. I hold my breath as I push the door open, hoping I didn't leave any underwear on the floor this morning.

"Here it is."

Lacey gingerly walks by me, her dark curls brushing my arm as she slips through the door. I trail after her slowly, watching for her reaction.

For such a small house, my room is surprisingly big. The queen size bed pushed back against the wall leaves enough space for a decent-sized desk to sit in front of my window. Looking out over the backyard, the four panes of glass provide me with enough natural light to draw and a sense of freedom that lets my art run wild.

"It's cleaner than I was expecting." Lacey muses, walking over to the small closet and taking a peep inside. I don't have many clothes, but the boxes piled along the floor are full of the sketchbooks I've filled over time.

I shrug, "Most of my life is messy. I try not to add to it."

She wanders over to my desk where my current sketchbook sits, waiting. Lacey picks it up with a smile.

"Am I allowed to peek behind the cover?"

"Sure."

Instead of flipping it open, Lacey walks over and sits down on my bed. I stare at her, unsure of what to do when she gestures to the spot beside her.

"Promise I won't fall over this time."

I huff out a laugh and take a seat beside her. To my surprise, she immediately passes over my sketchbook.

"Will you show me?"

I swallow, giving her a shaky nod. Our knees aren't even touching but this feels like the most intimate experience of my life.

Taking a deep breath, I turn to the first page. Lacey gasps and leans closer, her reaction and proximity making my heart kick into overdrive.

"Is that Karen's garden?"

She runs a finger over my drawing and I freeze, watching her touch a piece of my soul with a chipped fingernail.

"Yeah."

I can barely breathe as I watch her trace the figure kneeling in front of the flowerbed. Her fingers dance lightly over my pencil marks and the corresponding tug in my chest makes me think this is what it feels like to be seen.

She sighs, "It's stunning, Skylar."

"It's for you."

Her eyes widen, "You drew this for me?"

My head drops in a nod, "This is the one I was talking about the first night we met. When I said you were the inspiration behind it."

Lacey was the inspiration behind this entire collection, but I keep that to myself.

"I don't know what to say."

"That's okay."

Carefully tearing the page out of my sketchbook, I pass it over to her. Her teeth flash as a giant smile spreads across her face. I watch in awe as the skin around her eyes shrinks to accommodate the joy radiating through her.

She's so pure. So unrestrained with her emotions.

My gaze flicks from the luminous girl beside me to the dusty boxes piled along my closet floor. Each one contains hundreds of pages that reflect the person I truly am.

Angry. Broken. Violent.

The repulsive thought pushes me off the bed and away from the one bright light untouched by my family's history. Nausea climbs in my throat as I think about the memories stashed away in those boxes, the evidence of the unfiltered rage running from my bloodline to the ink staining the page .

I used to think the monster living under my bed was the one I had to fear. As I got older, I realized the real monster wasn't the one lurking in the shadows of my bedroom. It wasn't even the man who beat my mother every night.

It was the one hiding under my skin.

"You should go." Looking anywhere but Lacey's direction, I feel my body start to shake, "This is wrong."

"What are you talking about?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, "You shouldn't be here, Flower. Look at this place. Look at me ."

My bed squeaks as she climbs off it.

"I am looking at you, Skylar. And there's nothing I don't want to see."

Frustration burns through me. She's standing two feet away, watching me with unsuspecting eyes.

"Do you want to know what really happened that night? Do you want to know how my mother got her scars?"

I shake my head, feeling wildly out of control. The thundering beat of my heart feels like it might explode at any moment.

"Let me tell you a secret, Flower. My father despised his job, said every minute he spent working was a minute wasted. So, every night he would come home in a mood. Most people would bitch or complain to their significant other, but not Vincent Vin."

A tear hits my cheek as a hysterical laugh leaks out, "He had triggers. Sometimes you knew what they were, other times you didn't. My mom was the detonator. She would say or do something that would set him off and suddenly she had a new bruise or cut that needed to be covered up."

I want to stop the words from falling out of my mouth, but I can't. Like a coke bottle that's been shaken too many times, the horrifying truth bubbles up and spills past my lips.

"My mom made his favourite meal that night. He'd had a rough week and we were all walking on eggshells, waiting for the next eruption. She forgot to set an alarm and when the food came out burnt, he grabbed the closest thing he could find and threw it at her."

Lacey's arms wrap around me as she pulls me close. I don't realize I'm crying until the light colour of her sweater starts to darken with my tears.

"She tripped and fell on the broken glass. I tried to call the ambulance but she wouldn't let me. There was so much blood, Flower. There was so much blood."

I fall apart in her arms, crying into her neck like it might expunge the past that has never stopped haunting me. Lacey holds me tightly, not saying a word as I drench her skin with my tears.

"You don't want to be a part of this family." I pull back, blinking at her blurry outline, "We're no good. I'm no good."

She shakes her head, gripping my face with her hands.

"Don't say that."

"It's true, though."

Another tear leaks out, dripping from my nose to my lips, "You don't want me, Flower. I'm damaged goods. "

Silence falls between us as my tears continue to fall. Lacey hasn't let go of me, her hands clutching my face like it's the only thing holding me together.

"Maybe you're right." She swallows, brushing away the damp streaks on my cheeks, "Maybe you are damaged."

I stare at her, tracing every inch of her face with an invisible brush to commit it to memory. There's an ache in my body that wasn't there before, but I shove it aside.

At the end of the day, my flower deserves someone who doesn't have the darkness of abuse tailing alongside them. Someone whose family isn't held together by misguided lies and misshapen scars.

She deserves a hero and that is the one thing I will never be.

Lacey leans forward and presses her sweet lips to mine. I freeze, tasting the salty residue of my tears, and wait for her to say goodbye.

She pulls back and gives me a sad smile, "But you're perfectly damaged for me."