Eyes Ever to the Sky (A Sci Fi Romance) (The Sky Trilogy) by Katie French Read Free Book Online Page B

cascading over smooth shoulders. You don't have to do that , she'd said. He heard her voice echo in his skull like a song he couldn't shake. She'd gone back to feed him, not turn him in, and still he had run. Can't trust them, the voice said. None of them.
    Hugh skidded around a dark corner and pulled up tight to the brick building as a young couple walked past, chatting and licking the last sloppy bites off an ice cream cone. Each person that passed struck an off-key chord in his head. Stay away, his instincts said. Yet, something had been different in that one moment beside the dumpster. Somehow he'd been drawn to her, to her face so open and inviting, her hands outspread to say Come as you are . No alarm bells. No instinct telling him to run. Then she'd gone inside and he'd doubted himself, so he'd fled from the only comfort he'd known.
    What he wouldn't give to go back there now and stand beside her for just one more moment.
    Her voice swam around his head, soft and lyrical. And that smile. He could see the curl of her lips as she'd turned to go. He could run back and wait until she left for home. He could approach her then and hear her voice, see her smile, feel…what? Feel less alone. He turned in the dark and looked back toward the ice cream shop.
    Sirens. Two cop cars tore around the corner, lighting the street in shards of red and blue. The couple watched, growing stiff. Then they went back to licking drops of ice cream off their knuckles, walking a bit quicker.
    Hugh tucked back into the shadows, the brick warm and rough under his palms. He couldn't go back. What if someone confronted him again and he hurt them, maybe worse than he'd hurt the man in the shed? He pictured the dented shovel. If he could do that, what other harm could he do? What if he went back and accidentally hurt her? No, he had to get out of town and back into the open stretches of tree cover. He skirted through the shadows, heading for the scent of pine. Sleeping in the woods would have to suit him again tonight. He ran, carrying the memory of her voice with him into the dark.
     

CHAPTE R TEN — CECE
    Tuesday 9:47 p.m.
     
     
    Cece stumbled in the trailer door, banging her knee against a stack of books. The paperbacks sprawled across the entryway.
    “ Shit!” she said.
    “ Watch your mouth,” Mama's voice said from the interior of the dark trailer.
    A wreath of smoke bobbed above the couch. Her mother’s narrow face scowled at her over the tattered couch back. With the flickering TV behind, Mama’s matted hair was a wild mane.
    “Sorry.” Cece stepped inside. All day long questions had been burning inside her. What had happened with Aunt Bea? Was Ben telling the truth? Her eyes locked on the TV newscast, her family problems momentarily forgotten. Was that the dog park down the street? She watched as the camera panned over a large crater dug into the earth. A giant meteor had crashed at the dog park? She leaned in.
    Mama blocked her view, her dry lips pursed into a frown. “Where have you been all day? I been worried sick.” She smashed her Marlboro into the overflowing ashtray as if it had offended her.
    “Work, remember?” Cece's eyes stayed locked on the TV screen. Three craters had been found in the ten mile perimeter. Holy crap, three craters? That was news.
    Mama shook her head slowly, her mouth open. “You shouldn’t work so hard, mi amor .”
    “ Yeah, well I gotta,” she snapped.
    Mama stiffened and Cece instantly felt bad. This was not the way to get Mama to open up. She tried again. “It's not that hard, really. I've perfected the soft-serve swirl.” She twirled a finger in the air. Mama lifted a small smile, nodding. Her eyes strayed back to the TV.
    “Mama,” Cece said, easing herself down on the couch near Mama's feet. The cushions sagged heavily. Cece picked a candy wrapper out of the crack between the cushions and began folding it, mulling over what she wanted to say. “I got a call today.”
    Mama didn't