Eyes Ever to the Sky (A Sci Fi Romance) (The Sky Trilogy) (22 page)

Cece lifted her head, her eyes straying to the muted TV. She stiffened and sat up. There was the sketch of Hugh on the screen, with a number to call if he was spotted. He was officially a wanted criminal. Again doubt gnawed at her. What if he
was
the one? All the blood on his shirt. All the lame excuses about why the cops were looking for him. But, he slept in her bedroom and didn't lay a finger on her. She shook her head, remembering his kind eyes.

Fer glanced at the screen. “Whoever that dude is, he’s in for a world of hurt. They're gonna give his ass the death penalty for sure.”

“Why?” A cold chill ran up Cece's arms. Everyone would know his face by morning.

Fer gave her a sarcastic look. “Why the death penalty when this dude viciously murdered
three people
in cold blood? Hmm, let me think.”

Cece shook her head and snapped the TV off. “How do they know they have the right guy?”

Fer shrugged, her eyes on her phone. “Of course it's the right guy. I just want him caught pronto so nobody I know ends up shredded.” Fer lifted her eyes. “Don’t you?”

Cece suddenly became interested in the cigarette pack stuff in between two couch cushions. “I don't want anybody else killed.” She had to warn Hugh. But how?

Fer put down her phone and turned to Cece. “Listen, I know everything’s pretty shitty right now, so I arranged us a little something.” Fer smiled at her expectantly, took a big breath and blurted, “Shaun got tickets to Avenged Sevenfold tomorrow night!” She squeezed Cece’s arm excitedly. “Isn't that frickin sweet? I convinced him to swing two tickets. I even talked Lizzy into scheduling us both off work.” Fer bounced on the couch like a five-year-old and waited for Cece's reaction.

Cece attempted a smile. How could she tell Fer that she couldn’t go to a concert right now? Mama was gone. Hugh was a murder suspect. They needed her. “Thanks, Fer. I just don’t know—”

“Don’t worry about the price. Shaun took care of it.”

“
With his drug money?”

Fer stiffened. “Since when did you care about that?”

Cece crossed her arms over her chest. “I care, okay? I don’t want to go to some concert on dope money.”

Fer frowned, shifting away from Cece. “I do something nice and this is how you act?”

Cece dropped her arms, exhausted. “Oh, Fer, you don’t understand.”

“
Yeah, I understand.” Fer clenched her phone in her fist. “Do you know how hard it is to be your friend?”

Cece pulled back. “What?”

“You mope around all the time cause your life is so bad. I get it. Your life sucks. My life sucks, too. That doesn’t mean you stop living. That doesn’t mean you stop having fun.”

Anger flashed over her. “I don’t want to drink and do drugs—”

“I’m not talking about that,” Fer said. “All I’m talking about is a concert. No drugs. No drinking. Just an f—ing concert.”

Cece crossed her arms over her chest. “Mama needs me.”
Hugh needs me
.

Fer nodded vigorously, her ponytail bobbing up and down, a purple strand falling over her wrinkled brow. “And you love it, too.” She pointed a finger at Cece. “That's why you're always reading those psychology magazines. So you can fix everything. It gives you a purpose. It gives you an identity. Cece who runs to the rescue. You ever ask yourself what you’d do if your mom got well?”

Cece stood now, her heart pounding in her temples. “What’re you, Dr. Phil?! You don't know what the hell you're talking about!”

“
The school social worker told me about co-dependency. You're the frickin poster-child for it. You need your mom to be sick. You’d have no idea what to do with yourself if you didn’t have her to take care of.”

Cece clenched her hands into fists and shook them. “That’s not true. I
hate
that Mama’s sick. I
hate
my life. I
hate
this dump.” She swung her arm around the trailer. She dropped her voice to an angry whisper. “You have no idea what it’s like to be me.”

Fer shot an angry finger in the direction of her trailer. “Have you seen
my
life?”

Cece opened her mouth to answer when someone knocked on the front door. Both girl's froze.

Cece walked over and peered out the peephole. Hugh stood on her front stoop, hands in his shorts’ pockets. She shot a glance back to Fer, her heart racing. “Just a second, Fer.”

She slipped through the door and onto the stoop next to Hugh. Hugh peered down at her with sheepish, apologetic eyes.

“Come on.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him around the back of the trailer.

As they jogged around back and out of the porch light, Cece glanced up and down the street. She caught the eye shine of a stray cat skittering under a car, but that was it. Once they were in full darkness, they stopped. They stood for a moment in the dark, the night air wet and sticky on her bare skin. Cece cleared her throat, pulling on the hem of her tank top. There was awkwardness between them that hadn't been there a couple of hours ago. What she wouldn’t give to go back to the lake before everything had fallen apart.

“You shouldn't be out there. Someone could see you.” She glanced down the street again. Then she forced herself to meet his eyes and ask a question she wasn’t sure she wanted answered. “What did Nomad say?”

Hugh shook his head. “Nothing. What's going on? Have you been crying?” He nodded toward her face.

Her eyes must be puffy. She touched her cheek and then shook her head. “No. Listen, you have to get out of here. The cops are looking for you. I don't have any money, but maybe we could get someone to get you a train ticket. I know that—”

He held a hand up to stop her. “What are you talking about?”

She stared up into his face. “You don't know?”

He shook his head. “Know what?”

She pointed back to the house where she'd seen the sketch of his face. “They're looking for you. The police. They came here tonight. Fer said…” She paused and met his eyes, weighing her words. “It's bad, Hugh.
Really
bad.”

He grabbed her hand and gave her a reassuring smile. “It's okay. Really. They won't be able to catch me.”

Cece tightened her grip around Hugh's hand. “Everyone knows what you look like. And the cops around here, they might shoot you, Hugh.”

Hugh smirked. “I'm not worried about it.”

Cece pulled back. “How can you say that? You'll be dead. Dead.” She stood and began pacing in the dark. “We have to think of a plan.”

“
Cece, listen…” He paused, as if getting ready to tell her something. “It's okay.”

She stopped pacing and looked up at him. “How can you say that?” she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her into an embrace.

His skin on her skin. His breath on the top of her head. She buried her face into his chest and sank into him until she could feel her heart thumping against his stomach. All the doubt melted away. Safe. That's what this was.

“Mmm,” he sighed, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

She let out a soft sigh and lifted her chin until she was facing him. There was his mouth, soft and inviting. She smelled the sweetness of his breath and a wave of want surged through her. His eyes flicked down to her mouth. She raised her chin slightly, thinking
Yes, kiss me. I want you to.
He leaned down.  She stood up on her tip-toes and closed her eyes.

“
Get away from her, you asshole!”

They jumped, falling out of each other's arms. Fer stood in the side yard, a butcher knife clutched in her hand. It flashed under the streetlamp as she pointed it at Hugh. 

“Fer, what're you doing?” Cece asked, stepping in front of Hugh.

Confusion flooded Fer’s face. “What're
you
doing? Isn't he...?” She mouthed the next words, “
The killer
?”

She shook her head. “He's... He's my boyfriend.” Her cheeks flushed. What would Hugh say to that?

“Since when?” Fer asked, letting the knife droop.

Cece shrugged, offering an apologetic smile. “I was afraid to tell you.”

“Oh shit,” Fer said. “I thought he was ripping your head off. I called the police. They're on their way.”

CHAPTER TWENT
Y-NINE — HUGH

Thursday 10:42 p.m.

Hugh looked to Cece, but she was already turning, her hand tugging his arm. “Go. We gotta go.”

“
I'll go,” he said, touching Cece's arm. “You stay here. Stay inside.”

“
No,” she said, glancing out toward the road. “I wanna go with you.”

He began to shake his head, but stopped. If he left her again, how could he know if she was safe? And who knew what Nomad had planned? He took her hand. “If you're sure.”

“You can't be serious,” Fer said behind her. “Cece don't go with him.” She gripped the knife.

“
Fer, I’m safer with him than home alone. Just keep an eye out for Mama.”

Fer shook her head. “I wanna go on record as saying that this is a stupid idea that will likely land in your face on a milk carton.”

Cece patted Fer's arm once. “Nobody buys milk in a carton anymore.”

Fer scowled. “You know what I mean. Don’t do this.”

Cece turned and tugged Hugh. “Let's go.”

“
Cece, no,” Fer begged.

With one last look at her friend, Cece turned and pulled Hugh forward. They sprinted out across the lawns of brittle grass, past the dark sheds and carports. Hugh plowed over a plastic bucket as they ran through a weed-filled sandpit and felt it splinter beneath his feet. When they reached the field, Hugh tugged Cece toward the woods.

I should just pick her up and fly off,
he thought, but he couldn't risk drawing the wrath of Nomad and his superiors. Cece was already lagging behind and halfway through the long grass her panting sounded loudly in his ears. At this rate, they'd never outrun the cops.

Cece stopped, placed her hands on her knees and sucked air. “Just…a sec. I…gotta catch…my breath.”

Hugh nodded, trying to keep from pulling out his hair. Grass swayed against his legs that itched to run. Above the buzz of insects, police sirens sounded. They both stiffened and turned toward the road.

Cece pushed Hugh forward. “Let’s go! I'm fine.”

They ran. In the dark, shrubs and brambles tore at their clothes. Hugh had no trouble avoiding obstacles, but only a few minutes in, Cece tripped and fell into a thick crop of shrubs. Hugh bolted to her side, yanking shrubs out by the roots, kneeling beside her.

She winced and blinked up at him. “My ankle.” She reached for it, her face pinching in pain.

“Let me carry you,” Hugh said, feeling helpless. Dogs barked in the distance. Flashlights cut through the trees. They were gaining. It would only be a matter of time.

“
I'm too heavy.” She stood, wincing. Blood dribbled from her knee.

He shook his head. All this was his fault. “You're not. Please.”

She tugged damp hair out of her eyes. “I can make it.” She limped forward.

The dogs were closing in. Men's voices shouted. Shadows danced between the tree trunks as more flashlights joined the search. A beam of light skidded over his face, blocking out his vision. The dogs' frantic baying cut into him. They'd be here any minute. How could he protect her from a jail cell? Nomad had said that knowing his secret would put Cece in danger. As Hugh looked down at her twisted ankle, the scratches on her arms and legs, he realized he'd already done that.

“Grab my neck,” he said, lifting her. He pulled her body to his. The heat that he felt every time he touched her stirred, but he pushed it aside. The pain left her expression as she looked into his eyes. For good or bad, she would finally see him for what he was.

Then he ran.

The forest blurred to a dark smudges around them. The wind whistled by, blowing her hair back from her face. Soon they couldn't hear the dogs.

“
Hugh,” she said, but her words were sucked away by the rushing wind. He stole a glance at her. Even in the darkness he could see the awe in her eyes.

He was going to have some explaining to do.

CHAPTER THI
RTY — NOMAD

Thursday 11:20 p.m.

Nomad stood in the darkness and watched Hugh and Cece bolted past. Beside him, Borrin shifted, shaking his mane, sending up a cloud of pheromones thick as the July heat. His clawed hands flared and then retracted into fists. Nomad could understand his desire. Borrin wanted the girl the same way Nomad wanted a Coney dog with everything on it. Borrin pushed a low, guttural growl through his fangs, his hot breath flooding the air. Nomad turned, batting away the fetid stink. What had he been eating, dead mouse intestines?