When Sky Breaks: Burn & Break Duet Book 2

32. August

The wind may be brisk,but as someone who’s used to being outside in the elements, it’s not a bother, even this late into the blustery afternoon.

I zip my jacket and shove my hands into the pockets once I enter the greenhouse portion of the flower shop. Open all year round, I greet the clerk on staff and peruse the fall selection. Overrun by mums, I walk up and down the aisle until I find what I think she’ll like.

There are still a few sunflowers and dahlias among the roses, so I gather a handful and ask the cashier to wrap them. Well aware of Sky’s relationship status and willing to ignore it to see her light up when I give these to her, I stride from the shop, bouquet in hand.

Friends can give flowers, right?

My feelings for her are obvious since I blurted them out for the world to hear, but what about hers? Am I imagining the electric current between us when we’re near each other? Is this merely more torture I’m supposed to endure, the girl I love just out of reach?

With unsure strides, I pass the Rusted Tavern’s huge front window and pause, squeezing the bouquet in my hand. Staring at the beautiful flowers, I almost choke. This is the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever had. She’s not even available and who’s to say she would even want me if she was?

Kiss or no kiss, Sky isn’t mine to woo or seduce or whatever else I planned on doing to earn her forgiveness.

It doesn’t work like that.

Glancing up, I shift my gaze to inside the restaurant, the warmth from the blazing fire roasting pork on spits curling around me even through the glass. Mouth watering, I’m tempted to stuff my feelings with comfort food. Before my hand makes it to the handle, I stiffen, my attention hovering over a pair inside.

Sky’s back is to me, but I’d notice her anywhere. There’s the sweep of golden hair nearly brushing her shoulders and her cozy purple knitted sweater. Jeans that hug her curves. She turns slightly, and the sheen of gloss on her lips makes me groan.

Fuck.What I wouldn’t give to have that smeared?—

Then I see who she’s with, and my stomach bottoms out.

Johnny’s across from her, casually looking over a menu, suave as can be in his slacks and dress shirt. He’s a pompous ass, and I wish Sky could see that.

My jaw clenches, as well as my fist. I’ve learned over the years that if it’s too good to be true, then that’s likely the case. My stupid plea at the church went unnoticed. I begged and bartered with god for another chance to prove myself to her if I ever saw her again.

The longer I stand here, the more the wave of hurt threatens to drown me. I want badly to be the anchor for her, but she’s the one tethering me, that rope growing dangerously thin.

Moving into the shadows so she or Johnny doesn’t see me, I close my eyes and rest my body against the freezing exterior of the building, clutching the flowers at my side, their tender fragrance wafting up to my nose.

Just breathe.

Maybe they’re only talking, and it’s not an actual date?

Assuming the worst gets people in trouble, but when it’s Sky, all my rationality falls to the side, and I crumble under the pressure of self-doubt.

Who am I compared to a big-shot doctor? Why would she pick me over him? He’s likely stable in every area, he’s a fucking cancer doctor, and I’m what? A travel photographer turned business owner who fixes things around people’s houses?

Who cares if I took a bunch of pictures people loved and paid me a lot of money for? None of it matters if there’s no one to share the experiences with. The camera may capture the image and, if you’re good, the emotion behind it, but Johnny saves lives, and I destroy them with one flick of a finger.

A pained shudder runs through me, and I open my eyes to the stars peeking through the clouds of the evening, the rest of the noise fading. There were nights in Cali when I slept under these stars, marveling at their vastness and the ability to stun even the non-believers into seeing the truth of the universe. We’re born from the dust of stars and, upon death, will return to them, learning the secrets of life we only thought we knew.

I inhale deeply and straighten from the wall. If I had made a different choice, I wouldn’t be here, facing any choices at all.

Baby steps.

Even if I’ve lost her to Johnny, I refuse to lose her altogether. Before she was my lover, she was my best friend, the only real one I had, and it’s better than nothing at all.

With that thought fragile and fleeting, I pause in front of a trash can, the flowers trembling in my hands. I want to believe I can be friends with her if it comes down to it. But I’d be lying. She’s a part of me now in everything I do, and to share her light with someone else is a fate I’m not sure I can handle.

A heavy exhale passes my lips as I sidestep the trash can, gripping the flowers tight. Giving her up—the idea of her and me in a relationship—hooks deep in my gut, twisting and turning until I can’t ignore it anymore. It’s as real a possibility as the earth dying one day.

Stiffly, I climb into my truck, laying the bouquet in the passenger seat, running a finger along a soft golden petal.

I shift into drive and head in the opposite direction of my house. If I can’t have her, she still deserves people who care and will show up in her life.

Aching or not inside, I’ll be there.

* * *

Last night I slept like shit, and the coffee I made has grounds in it, so today is going to be spec-fucking-tacular.

The camera around my neck like a noose, I leave the warmth of my truck and walk past the firehouse to where the Villains Playground is already a buzz of volunteers bringing in boxes for each of the rooms inside.

If I see her today…

Setting down a fresh cup of coffee on the grass, I snap a few pictures of the mural painted on the outside. The Villain’s Playground logo is graffitied in bright neon purple and orange with a clown who looks like it’s fighting its way out of the side of the building. Much like my heart trying to claw its way out of my chest every time the image of Sky and Johnny eating together filters across my mind. Which is way too fucking often.

Before that image becomes permanently lodged in my brain, I step around the corner and run right into someone carrying a box. We stumble, and I catch an elbow to steady them, muttering an apology as I lean down and pick up a…bloody stump of a fake foot.

“August?”

I finally look at the person I ran into and receive a punch to the gut.

Sky.

“Here’s your foot,” I sputter, putting it in the box.

Glad I wasn’t holding the coffee, or it would be all over us. Shit. In my attempt to get today over with, I left it and back track to grab it.

“Oh, ew. Thanks. Hey wait,” she says, setting the box down and following me.

It hurts to ignore her, but it hurts even more to look at her. However, the gravity that lingers between us pulls my gaze to hers once I’ve snagged the to-go cup from near the wall. Her cheeks are pink from the chill in the air, and there’s a spark of happiness in her bright blue eyes. It stings, knowing I’m not the one who put it there.

“I had some flowers on my front porch when I got home last night. I know they were from you.”

I shrug and look past her shoulder where the view isn’t as pretty but won’t destroy me.

She angles her head. “Why didn’t you give them to me in person?”

Accepting defeat, I let my camera dangle in one hand and tell her the truth. “Because it hurts too much, Shortcake.”

She steps into view, and I finally let my eyes roam past her tennis shoes and leggings to her flannel shirt, landing on her face, brows crinkled in confusion at my words. “What are you talking about?”

The plea rises from my chest in a low and tormented voice. “Just tell me if you’re staying with him. Please just rip the bandage off and tell me so I can try to move on.”

Sky squints and pinches her lips together, her fingers curling under the hem of her shirt.

“I saw you at the restaurant, and I just…assume it means you picked him over me.” Saying it out loud sounds dumb to my ears, and I wish I could take it back.

“Why are men such idiots?” she whispers to herself as spots of pink rise to her cheeks, aware I can still hear her. “What you saw was the furthest thing from that. I ended things with him, August. I don’t know what’s going to happen between you and me, but I knew Johnny and I would never make it.”

She huffs out a laugh and shakes her head, her hands navigating to her hips. “I broke up with him because I can’t stop thinking about you, you dummy.”

She creeps closer, and I back up until I’m flush to the wall, in utter disbelief at the words coming from her pretty mouth. Her finger pokes into my chest. “I sent him away because although he may be this great doctor and all, he’s got nothing on how you make me feel. How good of a person you are despite what happened with Chase. But you saw one tiny moment and read into it, and just, what? Gave up? That’s not the August I know, certainly not the one I care about.”

Our breathing labors as her one finger becomes her entire hand that lays across my chest. She has to feel my heart galloping. My body trembles at her nearness. My restraint barely contained as she runs her fingers across the buttons on my Henley to the zipper on my open jacket.

“I got you coffee,” is all I say, my voice hoarse.

Her eyes flick to the cup in my hand before meeting mine. “Splash of milk and two sugars?”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

Her apple scent washes over me as a smile crests her face like she’s realizing something. “And you thought I’d pick him when it’s you who knows me best?” She shakes her head and removes her hand, taking away the warmth it brought me.

Grabbing the cup, she brings it to her lips and groans as the smell of roasted beans meets her nose. The sound resonates throughout my body, my tendons stretching thin with my purposeful self-control.

I want to kiss her so fucking bad. Her lips around the lid of the cup drives me mad. That one taste was not enough. I’m coming unhinged. By the words she said, the look in her eyes, and the devastating hold she has on me, physically and emotionally.

With another swish of her head and quirk to her brow over the rim of the cup, she retreats into the haunted house, leaving me reeling.

I thump my head off the thin walls of the building and utter a fuck under my breath.

I am the idiot.