Free Breaking Skin by Debra Doxer Page A

takes a slow sip of his drink and glances briefly at the sky.
    Now that I’m closer, I can make out the features of his shadowed face. The strong, square jaw and overgrown hair that curls over his ears and above his collar. My thoughts go to the videos of Cole I watched earlier and how quickly number thirty-seven went from strong and aggressive to helpless and hurt. Despite the way he’s treated me, the image of him lifeless on the ice tugs at my heart.
    “What can I do for you?” he asks. His tone is even, emotionless.
    Blinking against the darkness, I rein in my thoughts. “Renee has been gone all day. I’m wondering if she told you where she went . . . or when she was coming back.” I push the question out haltingly because I don’t want to have to ask it at all.
    He tilts his head slightly. “You don’t know where she is?”
    I shake my head, disappointed and embarrassed by the obviously poor relationship I have with my sister.
    “Are you worried about her?” He leans forward in his chair.
    I release a tense breath. “Yes.”
    “Did you try calling her?”
    “All day. She doesn’t answer.”
    Cole says nothing in response.
    I sigh, and the nerves already skating beneath my skin race even faster because Cole is sitting right there and he’s looking at me. I know my reaction to him makes me a fool, but I can’t seem to help it. He has no interest in me, and if I have any effect on him, he doesn’t show it. It frustrates me that wanting to be as indifferent to Cole as he is to me doesn’t make it so. I’m not indifferent. I’m drowning in my lack of indifference.
    After a moment, Cole stands to his full height of six feet and forever, and I arch my neck to keep my gaze on his face.
    “It’s still early,” he says. “I’m sure she’ll be home soon. Maybe she just needed a break today.”
    “A break. Maybe.” I nod, even though I don’t really believe that.
    Cole takes a step toward his door and just looks at me, waiting, and I realize I’m dismissed. He wants me to leave so he can go inside.
    Feeling defeated, I turn and descend one step before I look back at him over my shoulder. “Well, good night.” Then I hesitate because I hate the tension between us and I can’t leave it unacknowledged. “Are you being this way because of things my sister told you about me, or because of that night?”
    A stillness comes over him. This is the first time either of us has referred to that night.
    “Being what way?” he asks.
    I close my eyes and shake my head because he wants to pretend this isn’t happening, and now I regret even asking. “Never mind.”
    I swiftly descend the steps and am halfway across his yard before he can disappear into his house. The whole way to Renee’s house, I keep my back straight and my eyes forward. I don’t even bother to look up at the stars before I pull open the door and go inside.
    In Renee’s kitchen again, my hands start to tremble and my eyes blur with tears. Familiar pain presses down on me. Resentment toward Renee and my mother and this town, a place that never wanted to know the truth and preferred the lies. Lies that Renee continues to tell, but for her, the lies are the truth now. She bends her reality to make it more convenient, more palatable, even though that often makes me and the part I played more despicable.
    My phone on the kitchen table alerts me to the fact that I have a message, and I realize I forgot to take it with me when I went outside. Since I’ve been going back and forth with Deedee all afternoon about the plans for tomorrow, I’m sure it’s her, although I hope it’s Renee.
    When I glance at the caller ID, my pulse quickens. It’s Renee’s number, and I frantically tap the message to listen. As her voice comes through the speaker, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I shake my head at her casual tone while she informs me that she isn’t gone for the day.
    She won’t be back for an entire week.

 
    I n her message last night,