Page 124 of Striking Range

“This is over, Ash,” I declare sternly. “We have the evidence of how you treat me, and how you attempted to blackmail me. Leave all of this as it is, and you won’t have to deal with me anymore. What’s done is done.”

“I could have him arrested,” Ash spits out, climbing to his knees with a grimace. “I’ll call the cops right now and put him away.”

“Do it,” Skylar demands, stepping out from behind me. He does not hide his bloodied hands—they are a reminder. A new threat. “I will gladly go to jail and have all my secrets exposed if it frees Everett from you. Do it.”

There is so much certainty in his voice. He sounds as if he’s had this internal debate a million times, and every go-around he came up with the same answer: I would give my life for his freedom.

Ash is weighing his options with Felicita at his side, fussing over him. His eyes bounce between Skylar and me in disgust, his nose crinkled and his eyelids squinted.

He can call the cops and expose Skylar, but only at the expense of outing his own abuse and mistreatment. It would ruin him. There is only one right answer for Ash Carmichael, and we all know it.

“Fine. Get out of my house,” he sneers. “But just so you don’t forget, I have copies of those court documents and will be photographing my face after you leave. If I get any whiff that your audio has leaked, it’ll be over for you both.”

Skylar huffs, gripping my hand in his as he leads me to the front door without sparing another word.

“I’ll collect my things once you’ve cooled off,” I say over my shoulder, not bothering to turn around.

“Everett,” Ash calls, and we freeze in the entryway. “You are my biggest regret. You really are a disgrace.”

I grip Skylar’s arm as he attempts to turn, to lung once more, and pull him from the house. I’ve heard enough.

We run to the car, and as soon as we tumble into the backseat, Kelly pulls away from the curb.

“What happened—oh, god! Skylar, you’re bleeding!” Henry shouts, having turned to look at us from the passenger seat. “There’s so much of it. Fuck.”

“It’s not mine,” Skylar mutters.

Henry’s face pales, and he turns back, facing the windshield in silence.

Kelly clears her throat, and after a tense silence, she asks, “So… What happened in there?”

Skylar has his thigh pressed to mine, one bloodied hand intertwined with the cleanliness of my own. It’s a beautiful picture, the two of us. Anyone would think that it’s me who could take down a man twice my age in the blink of an eye, but no—Skylar is a vicious little thing, and I’m coming to the realization that I never have to be afraid again.

For the rest of my life, the only man I’ll ever be at the mercy of is Skylar himself. And that, I think, is the safest place I can be.

As we exit Rockhill Heights, I finally speak, staring down at the crusting red leaking between our intertwined fingers. “I’m free.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Skylar Parish

The sheets are soft as they caress my stomach, dragging gently over the skin from hip to hip. A blissful hum moves through me, simmering within my blood as my mind wakes.

Everything is calm. Everything is as it should be—and I know this without opening my eyes. If it weren’t, this warmth would not be building in my chest; my heart would not beat this tenderly.

I want to stay right here, hiding behind the lids of my eyes and wrapped in these sheets. It is safety, it is comfort. And what a beautiful feeling basking in this morning light can be.

“Good morning, puppy,” he whispers, pressing his lips softly to my temple.

Everett.

I blink, slow and hazy, adjusting to the rising sun bleeding between the curtains. The caressing against my stomach does not stop, yet I am certainly not moving against this bedding.

“Hmm,” I sound, my eyes flickering down just as Everett’s fingers make another pass below my navel.

It’s slightly blurry from sleep and still so pleasurable that my dreams threaten to take hold of me again, but I fight it, if only to see him beside me.

“Did you sleep well?” Everett asks, forever brushing those warm lips over my skin.