When Sky Breaks: Burn & Break Duet Book 2

11. Sky

Although I reada lot of mystery novels, I’m horrendous at stakeouts. This wasn’t the plan I had for today, but after Foster invited Johnny to dinner tonight, it seemed appropriate to further torture myself and monitor August. From afar. Or, in this case, from the bookstore windows.

Logical, right? This way, there’s no chance of the two of them meeting, and I can keep a healthy distance from the man who refuses to leave my thoughts.

The book I’m holding in front of me is some archaic tome on mathematics that smells musty but is tall enough to do the job of hiding me in case August glances across the street.

“Sky, honey, what on earth are you doing? Since when do you read old textbooks?” Ginger asks, pausing in front of me with a hand on her hip and glasses halfway down her nose.

After a brief reunion, she got busy with customers and I got busy staking out my ex-boyfriend, whom I hate with the intensity of a thousand suns. Can’t very well tell her that.

My face burns. “Would you believe me if I said I’m studying?”

She arches a brow. “For what? To teach math to a bunch of octogenarians? Because that’s about how old the book is. What shelf did you find that ghastly thing on? Must have missed it when I did my last inventory.” She peers past me to across the street and turns back with a knowing expression on her face. “Oh. Now I see. Whatever happened to you two, anyway?”

I shrug and shut the book, sputtering when a cloud of dust rockets into my face. Ginger smirks and holds out her hand, and I gladly fork it over.

“Too much. That’s what happened. Just…surprised to see him here.” Surprised is a vague word for it. More like gutted, anxious, and almost sick over the thought of running into him. Thus, the stakeout.

“We all were. But Colonel convinced him.”

“I know you two—Colonel, I mean—were kind of close.” There was loads of speculation, but I never learned if they got together. If they could make it work, then there’s hope for everyone else.

She waves her hand about. “Sugar, it’s okay to ask if we were ever together, and the answer is yes. We still are. He’s sweet as pie on me. But if you’re really asking if August is single, then I’m happy to report he is.”

The look on my face makes her laugh. “Oh honey, you can’t hide your feelings for nothing. Doesn’t matter we haven’t seen it in forever, but that blush over August Moore is still the prettiest shade of pink.”

I flush further and decide maybe this wasn’t the best place to stalk an ex. Or anyone. Small-town folks know everything and aren’t afraid to state any opinions. If she only knew the truth I’m struggling with. Or the fact August and I did some very naughty things in her store.

“It doesn’t really matter. I’m seeing someone else.”

She arches a manicured brow. “Really, now? Would it happen to be that strange, handsome man I saw at the grocery store? He looked fancy in his dress pants and such. Marge, over in the deli, couldn’t look away. Said if he was available she was going to set him up with her daughter.”

If I could melt into the carpet, I would. “Uh, yes. Johnny. But it’s nothing major, still pretty new. Just casual.”

Ginger studies me like an insect under a magnifying glass. There’s a good chance the whole town will know before Johnny even rings my doorbell tonight.

“Is he a good guy?”

“As far as I know, yes. He’s a doctor and good with his patients.”

“But is he good for you?”

That’s the question I’ve been asking myself.

He’s the opposite of August, and that’s exactly what I need to move on. Yet, here I am, stalking him while my old boss peers into my soul.

But Johnny is good, even if he’s a little shortsighted. None of us are perfect.

“Sometimes what’s good for us isn’t always what we want, but what we need,” I speak to Ginger, but my focus is on Snaps.

Maybe it’s time to let August go for good and quit this silly game I’m playing with myself. It might be better to leave him in the past and forget he’s in the present. What good could come from speaking to him after all this time? I imagine a lot more heartbreak. I already went through it once, not sure I can handle it again.

Johnny might be the safe solution, a means by which to reach my full potential. Someone who doesn’t know the scared little girl I used to be. I can become someone exciting and take more risks.

The idea sends bolts of uneasiness through my stomach. Aren’t the things that scare us supposed to strengthen us?

“I’m not too fond of riddles, darling, but I trust you know yourself and what’s best.”

Even I’m not sure what’s best anymore.

“Well, I better get back home. Foster might need me for something.”

“Yes, yes, go on, but promise me you’ll come back to visit?” Her face is hopeful.

“As if I could pass up a bookstore, Ginger. It was good to see you.”

I leave the store and jog to my car, praying August doesn’t see me. I might never talk to him again, but there is someone I need to work things out with.

* * *

The empty house allows me a few moments to think.

Trek took Foster out to pick up a few groceries to eat for the week, and I take this quiet time to stare in nervous anticipation at the unopened packages on my bed. Wrinkled from sitting in my closet for months, I press a hand to the soft packaging of one.

Am I a terrible person for not even once looking? No, absolutely not.

Trek tilted the world I thought I knew on its axis, and I needed to process the acute anger. It burrowed so deep it became a living, breathing entity, following me around like an awful curse.

Phoebe can attest to how I changed. How I moped, how I became a poster child for depression. It’s as if I was back in that house with my abusive father, cowering in the corner to avoid more punishment. May his soul rest in eternal hell for the pain he put me through as a child.

I threw myself into school, head down to keep my grades up despite my hurting heart. I immersed myself in work, into helping kids because I was once a kid who needed help but never really got it. I dated around because there was still that empty part of me that craved love, craved a closeness I only felt with one other person.

But here I sit, ready to move forward, yearning for peace as I rip into the first package from Trek.

A bag of Sour Patch Kids, my favorite candy. A book from the serial killer series I love. He even wrote a note in the cover.

S-

Not sure giving you this manual on how to murder me in my sleep is a good idea, but you love them, and I love you, sis, so here you go. Please forgive me.

-Trek

A tiny smile graces my lips as I run my fingers over the sleek cover. He’s so silly.

On and on, I open bags of my favorite things, small things I publicly adored because I was never allowed them as a child.

The last bag is the one that burst the dam of tears I’ve held back. More glow-in-the-dark stars for my ceiling. He knew those meant everything to me. At night, I knew I was never alone when I looked up at those stars, the ones he and Foster put up when I first moved in here. Even now, I lay and stare at them, feeling the tears roll down my face and onto the comforter under me.

Trek could’ve given up, written me off, tossed me to the side because I ignored him so much, but he tried.

What matters is he tried.

Nothing will ever change what he did. Nothing will bring back Chase. Holding onto this anger won’t raise my sweet baby brother from the grave. I’m honoring his little life by pushing away those who care, and it’s killing me. Chase wouldn’t want that.

The door to the house shuts, and I jackknife, wiping at my face. Their voices float through the walls, and I hear Foster say he’s going to lie down before dinner. The cancer affects him physically, and the once virile man has slowed down. I ache for him and the fact I can’t change what’s happening to his body.

“Trek,” I say, peeking my head from my room, spying him shutting Foster’s bedroom door, “You got time to talk?”

He spins and sees my obviously puffy face, concern floating in his eyes. “You all right?”

“I will be. Come on, let’s go out back.”

The leaves dot the backyard like little islands, the oranges and reds lying atop the green. The fence, once warped in areas, now stands tall and straight, as most of the damaged wood has been replaced since the last time I was here.

I sit in one of our deck chairs and stretch out my legs, my focus on the woods beyond our fence. “I opened all your packages.”

He nods from beside me, hands fidgeting in his lap. “I’m glad. I hope you liked them.”

“I loved them.”

The silence becomes unbearable. Why is it so hard to say I forgive you? It’s just three words, but they’re stuck like gum to the roof of my mouth.

“Sky, I, we—we never meant for any of that to happen. None of it. God, this is so hard to talk about because I know it was wrong, but I have to, we have to.”

I turn to him. There’s so much pain etched on his face that it lances through my chest as he continues. “You weren’t supposed to be home, and even then, it was such a fucking stupid idea, and I was a stupid kid. I don’t know what to say to make it right. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do or say to make everything better.”

Apparently, I still have a major reservoir of tears because they come bursting forth. “You can’t, Trek. There’s nothing you can do to change what happened,” I croak.

His face falls.

I wipe at my nose. “You don’t have to make it right. There’s no right here. Chase is gone. I can’t bring him back. But I have you. You’re alive, I’m alive and I can’t keep hating the fact I’m here and he isn’t. It won’t change a damn thing,” I stutter, hoping I’m making sense. “I need my brother, Trek.”

He clutches his arms and curls over in obvious anguish. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to do?—”

“No, you don’t understand. I need you.” I breathe through a clogged nose.

Hope washes over his features as he straightens. “You forgive me?”

“It’s not that easy.” He slumps, and I rest my elbows on my knees and clutch my temples. “The gifts and everything were special, don’t get me wrong, but?—”

“It’s not enough,” he says, his brows furrowing.

“But it’s a step in the right direction. You’re trying, and that’s important to me.”

“I won’t stop trying, I promise.”

“I believe you.”

The chairs creak as we shift in our seats.

“What do you think? Should we hug?” I have to at least meet him partway on this. Because that’s who I am. I can no more change the intricate bits that make me Sky Winters than Trek can change what makes him Trek Berry. Doesn’t mean he’s out of the gutter just yet.

“Does this mean I can resume making fun of you?” he asks after what he deems is an acceptable amount of hugging for siblings.

I sock him in the shoulder. “I’m surprised you waited this long.”

“I’m not a total jerk.” He smirks. “Well, not all the time.”

“It’s okay to admit it’s your love language.”

Disdain curls his lip. “Eck. Love, schmug, what does that mean anyway?”

“It means realizing what’s important in life and letting go of what’s not.”

“So profound. Is that why you’re dating Mr. Fancy Pants?” he mocks.

“Shut up. Don’t push it.” I scowl, trying to be menacing.

“Come on. Even you have to admit, he doesn’t really fit in. August was more of a match than that dude. Does he even own a pair of sweatpants? Or jeans?”

And just like that, the bit of sunshine fizzles away. Trek realizes by the hurt on my face, he messed up.

“Aw, fuck. Sky, I’m sorry. Damnit. I just, I didn’t mean to bring him up. But, ugh, never mind, I’ll shut up.”

“Johnny is a good guy, and yeah, he might wear nicer clothes than we’re used to seeing on people around here, but he’s here to help with Foster.”

“Your boy toy is in town?” Wide eyes stare back at me, the wind ruffling the tips of his hair.

“He was the one at the door yesterday. And now he’s bringing us dinner tonight, so you better be on your best behavior.”

Trek scratches his head. “Shit. This’ll be interesting. And thanks, Mom, I’ll try to hold it together.”

I narrow my eyes.

He holds up his hands defensively. “Fine. I’ll duct tape my mouth if I have to. Hopefully, he comes with something worth eating.”