When Sky Breaks: Burn & Break Duet Book 2

37. August

My hands shakeas I ride up into my drive. I drag them along the top of my thighs to steady myself.

The permanency of my new place is still foreign to me. I have an actual address, my name on a mortgage, and I pay property taxes. I have to mow a lawn and pluck weeds, and if something goes wrong, I’m on the hook. But it grounds me, gives me a sense of stability. No more living in a car, no more bumming off my uncle or Benny. No more nomadic lifestyle, living out of motels and on couches. I have a home I can call my own.

The only downside?

It’s empty.

There’s plenty of furniture and décor and even a fenced-in backyard. But it’s devoid of the one person who ever made me feel full.

Until now.

“Sky?” I ask as soon as I garner the courage to open the front door.

It’s quiet.

I know she didn’t leave because her car is outside in the drive along with my truck, but the silence creates a ball of nerves in my stomach. Maybe she couldn’t handle being here and called someone to pick her up?

Or what if she’s more than a little sick and passed out on the floor somewhere?

Fuck.

I drop my keys and wallet on the island, barely registering the lemon scent of house cleaner lingering in the air as I walk down the hallway toward the bedrooms. She cleaned? While sick?

Irritated with myself for not hiding the cleaning supplies, I press open the door to the spare bedroom with a little too much force.

No one’s in it.

She’s been in here, though, if the clothes strewn about on the floor near the bathroom is any evidence of her having occupied it. Oh, and the unmade bed. Also, my book on the nightstand with what looks like—I squint—toilet paper hanging out as a bookmark.

All annoyance erased, I shake my head and huff out a laugh, scratching the nape of my neck. And she calls me a monster for dog-earing the thing.

Less agitated but still worried, I look outside the window to the backyard. She’s not there either.

Only one more place in this house she could be. Winter too, as I haven’t heard her bark.

Heart pounding, I take a deep breath and palm the cool door to my room, slowly turning the knob to open it. My stomach swoops out and warmth fizzes in my veins. Relief and something akin to sheer bliss flood my system as I lean on the doorframe and stare, mesmerized, at the sight.

I’d give anything to come home to this every day.

Sky lies curled around the pillow in my bed, her little chin tucked into the fabric. Winter is at her back, and both are in the throes of deep sleep.

Straightening, I sneak to the living room and grab my camera. I can’t lose this moment, especially if I can capture it forever. Pressing a few buttons, I focus the camera and lift it. Sky through the viewfinder is perfection. With a quick press of my index finger, I snap a picture.

This is now my favorite photo.

It’s everything I love.

Sky in my sweatshirt, in my bed, my dog curved around her protectively.

Her dog, if I’m completely honest. Winter was always meant to be Sky’s.

The sound of the shutter must have been loud enough to stir her because as I’m grinning like a damn fool at my camera, her sleepy voice calls out. “August?”

Darting my gaze to hers, I prop my camera up on the dresser and stride over to the side of the bed she’s on, crouching down at the edge of the mattress. “Hey Shortcake. How do you feel?”

Because of her rosy cheeks, I reach out and sweep aside some tangled hair to touch her forehead with the back of my hand. It’s cool to the touch.

“I’m okay. I feel much better.” The pink dots deepen on her cheeks. “I’m sorry I’m in here. I just couldn’t sleep and…”

I shake my head and can’t resist the urge to tease her. “Stay in my bed for as long as you like. You look damn good in it. And in my sweatshirt.”

Her neck reddens along with her face as she glances down at the sweatshirt. I can’t believe she’s hung onto it all this time.

“I couldn’t get rid of it,” she whispers, sitting up and curling her fingers into the cuffs of the fabric. The sheet slides away completely, and I realize she’s in nothing but my sweatshirt and tiny underwear.

Now it’s time for my cheeks to burn as I stare too long at her tan legs freckled from the summer. What I wouldn’t give to run my hands up her smooth skin and feel the heat between her thighs.

Would she get wet for me like she used to?

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Instead of acting on that fantasy, I drag my eyes back to hers and tweak the strings.

She grabs my wrist, holding onto it.

My breath snags as she brushes along my skin with her thumb. “How’s Foster?”

I remember to exhale. “He’s good, about to take a nap when I left. Trek was almost home.”

She’s visibly relieved. “Has he talked to you yet?”

“No.”

“I wish he’d grow a pair.” The woman growls, and it’s fucking cute. Like a lion cub protecting her own. But I’m not someone she needs to protect. Far from it.

I sigh and stare down at our fingers now laced together, and run my thumb over hers. “It’s okay. I don’t expect him to. There’s been a lot of years between us.”

She squeezes my hand, and I lift my chin to meet the fierce determination I’ve always loved on her face. “It’s not okay, August. He owes you a deep apology.”

“He wasn’t the one who lit the match.”

She tugs my hand closer to her chest. The rapid beat of her heart mimics my own. “He gave them to you and then abandoned you. Brother of mine or not, he owes you.”

“I don’t deserve anyone’s loyalty.”

There’s a furrow between her brows I long to erase as our eyes tangle. The world stops when she does this, looks at me like I contain all the answers she’s been searching for, when in fact she’s the one with the key.

“You deserve more than you think,” she finally says, and I glance past her to the pale wall of my room. It’s hard to witness such open sincerity as I still wrestle with my sins.

She grabs my chin and brings my focus back. “Hey, where did you go just then?”

I feign a small smile. “I’m here. Sorry.”

Don’t ruin this moment.

A smirk forms and she arches a brow, her hair a messy nest of strands around her jaw. “So you got a dog?”

My body heats, grateful for the shift. “Yeah, out in Cali. She was in one of those shelters, likely from a puppy farm, and all I needed was one look to know she was mine.”

Just like you.

“She’s beautiful,” she gushes, her eyes brightening. This past summer’s sun darkened each freckle I used to silently count on her face, arranging them into constellations that dance as she scrunches her nose.

Beautiful, just like you.

After another brief pause, she says, “Want to know how I ended up in your bed?”

My eyes spring to hers and I prop my head in my palm, still hovering on the edge of the mattress, my knees on the floor. “Absolutely. Then tell me what I need to do to keep you here.”

A tiny smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, and she traces a finger over the tattoos disappearing under the sleeve of my T-shirt. Goosebumps erupt at her touch.

I will my breath to get under control as her fingers continue the path along the fabric all the way up over my shoulders to the back of my neck before sinking into my hair. I close my eyes as she tangles her fingers further into my strands, my body buzzing with the urge to slam my lips against hers. To climb on the bed and drag her under me as she wraps her legs around my waist. To do so many things I’ve only dreamed of doing to her now that we’re older.

“I woke up alone, and all I wanted was you. I need you, August. I’ve been so unhinged and I realized it’s because I didn’t have the safety of your arms. So I crawled into your bed to feel close to you.”

My eyes flutter open, our foreheads touching, my lips so dangerously close to hers. “And now?”

She’s quiet for a moment; the only sounds are our breaths. Finally, she speaks. “And now you’re all I think about.”

The air in my lungs stall.

“But there’s something else,” she continues while I try to keep up after what she just admitted. “When I couldn’t sleep, I got up and cleaned.” She smirks when she spies my frown and pokes it. “Stop. My germs were everywhere.”

I shrug. “I don’t mind.”

“You would if you got sick.”

“Not really. I’m currently in the company of a hot nurse.” The pad of my thumb rubs along her bottom lip, the soft skin beckoning me, my restraint thinning by the minute.

“Quit distracting me.”

“Sorry,” I murmur and let her go on, reluctantly keeping my hands to myself.

She clears her throat and stares at my neck, tracing her fingers along my rapidly beating pulse. And she says I’m distracting.

“A letter from Magnolia Place was tucked in between some junk mail I brought with me.”

I meet her eyes. There’s a shine to them. More tears. My chest squeezes as I swallow. “What did it say?” I ask, even though I have a pretty good idea of what was in that letter.

“I think you know.”

Pulse thrumming, I nod and wait.

“August, you—I don’t even know what to say. Your hard-earned money…”

I jerk my chin sharply. “Money doesn’t matter to me. You do, Shortcake. I’ll donate all my photography royalties to Magnolia every year for the rest of my life if I can. They need it more than me.”

Her lip trembles as if she still doesn’t believe me. How much of my heart can I share with her until she gets it. If it was possible, I’d maim the twelve-year-old and nineteen-year-old version of me for all the damage they caused.

“Your photos are stunning. What if you want to go back to your old photography job and leave? What if you decide I’m not what you want anymore?” She sniffs, staring down at her hands in her lap. “You know I’d let you go. I’d never hold you back from doing what makes you happy. If here isn’t enough for you, I refuse to stand in the way. I could never forgive myself if I kept you from what makes you truly happy.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and drag her to my chest, where she clings to my shirt. All thoughts turn to reassuring her down to the marrow of my bones that I’m here to stay.

Palming her face, I growl, “Never doubt my feelings for you. Ever. I knew when I planted my feet back in Maizeville I wouldn’t leave. No matter how hard it is to remember the fire and what I did, I knew I belonged here. Whether it was to help Colonel with the shop or start my own photography business on the side, I was putting down roots for once. Even knowing I might run into you was worth the decision. Even if you never forgave me, I’d stay and convince you I regret that night with every part of me.”

I grip her hand tightly across my chest as her head dips, a curtain of tangled blonde hair brushing across my face.

“Look at me, Shortcake,” I say with a rough edge to my words.

She lifts her head and her bright blue eyes sear right through me.

“Even if you never say it back, I’ll tell you every chance I get. I love you. I’m not leaving. I won’t pack my shit up and abandon you. Never again. I’m here for good.”

Sky persists, poking me in the chest. She’s got fire. There’s no doubt of that. “You’re in a book! That’s a big deal.”

I nod. “Yep. Doesn’t change a thing. I can take pictures anywhere. But you aren’t just anywhere. You’re here.”

Those dang tears make her eyes glossy. I hate seeing her cry over me. “Please don’t cry, baby, I’m just telling you my truth. And it’s you. It’s always been you for me. You’re it. There will never be another. Only you.”

“There’s a canvas of me in your store,” she cries out.

I nod again and wipe away a tear under her eye. “Several, in fact. They’re all my favorites.”

“You’re my favorite,” she whispers, and those words of affirmation settle in deep, curling around my heart like the gentlest vine in a spring forest.

“I can’t fight this anymore.” She shakes her head and brings my hand to her lips.

I inhale sharply as she presses the softest kiss to my knuckles.

“I forgive you, August. I’ve put our past where it needs to stay. If you’re serious about staying here in Maizeville, I want us to move forward. Together.”

“Sky…I-I’m—” The words get stuck, and I choke on the denial burning inside me. “Are you sure?” My voice takes on a note of desperation.

She threads her fingers through mine. I squeeze to make sure she’s really here and not just a mirage I created out of self-preservation.

“We can’t go back in time and change anything. All we can do is live fully the life we have.” She blows out a breath. “The hate eroded me from the inside out. But it changed nothing. Just made me miserable and bitter. I finally feel lighter, and it’s because of everything you’ve done for me. Once Foster is done with chemo, I’m moving back here permanently.”

My chest cracks wide open. As she tugs me up onto the bed, I don’t hesitate. I refuse to descend into the hell of self-loathing, not when Sky extends an olive branch. I’m no fool; I won’t get this chance again.

“Lie with me?” Her voice is a mere whisper as if she’s unsure. I slide under the sheets, facing her, sharing my pillow.

Winter chuffs and hops off the bed to trot out of the room, her nails clicking across the wooden floor to the living room. Most likely to her favorite spot on the couch.

Nose to nose, I breathe Sky in, her blue eyes roaming my face with that look of adoration I always craved. How can she—after all this time—still want me just as much as I want her?

“You need to forgive yourself, too,” she says, her breaths fanning, the warmth of her body infusing mine. “It’s not enough for me to forgive you. You have to see it yourself and trust that who you are is enough, that you don’t owe the world anything else to gain favor. You certainly don’t owe anyone your life.”

Muscles tensing, I study the shadows under her eyes, turning my stomach to granite.

“Don’t be mad, but I snooped in your bathroom.”

“Showered, too,” I tease, despite the sharp spike of anxiety in my stomach. “I smell my shampoo.”

The divot between her brows deepens. “August, I saw your medication.” She hesitates. “Are you okay?”

Briefly, I close my eyes.

Her finger runs along the side of my face. “You know I’d never judge you. You can tell me anything.”

“Can’t get anything past a nurse, can I?” Again, I tease to avoid this conversation.

“Don’t joke, please.”

She’s so earnest and open and isn’t that what I’ve always wanted? Her, here, with such acceptance of my shortcomings?

I clear my throat, hoping it clears the demons still strangling my soul. “When I left, I fell into a deep depression. Everything was just so dark, Sky, I couldn’t take it.” Those fucking tears I’ve gotten good at hiding sting behind my eyes.

She palms my cheek, and I no longer fight the pull to guard my deepest, darkest moments. They rise and spill over, heavy with grief for the man I was.

“All the shit I did came to a head. I was on an assignment, and I was alone like I usually was. I only took an assistant if my uncle required it.” My voice shakes as the memory flashes. “There was this cliff. My feet were dangling off the edge. I told myself it was for the best angle, for the perfect picture. I had to get it right. It was almost a manic obsession.”

Her beautiful and honest eyes well.

I hate to tell her this, but I’m compelled to unleash it all. “There was a moment I thought about jumping. Ending it all. Completely erasing the pain, the misery I caused for myself. It was windy and had recently rained. I could’ve just slipped on the slick rocks and that be it. Get swallowed by the cold sea and let it all fade away.” I gulp down air and shake my head. “But I couldn’t do it. I—there was, thankfully, a bit of self-preservation left in me. I saw your face in my mind, and I just couldn’t do it. I knew you were out there somewhere and it meant I needed to be as well. I couldn’t exist in a place where you weren’t. The next day, I booked an appointment with a doctor, and she hooked me up with some medication and a therapist.”

Sky tightens her grip on me, almost painfully, as I brush her hair off her forehead and curl it behind her ear. Touching her settles me. She’s a lodestone, pulling all my demons to the surface and banishing them one by one back to hell.

“I’m better now. I started sleeping and eating better. The guilt is always there. Not sure that will ever go away, but I can keep it at bay.”

Her silent tears undo me.

“Please, please don’t cry. This is not your burden to carry.” I thumb them away as she sniffs. “It was by my hand that I earned this life. I’m just trying to be better now.”

She places her hand on my chest, feeling how hard my heart beats for her. “Oh god, August, I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone. I wish, I?—”

“Shhh.” I kiss her temple and lay my head on hers, our connection the only thing tethering me to shore. “I’m okay now, I promise.”

“The thought of you not here anymore?” She shudders, and I draw her closer still, absorbing her tremors.

“I know, I know,” I murmur into her hair as she shakes her head.

“It should be me comforting you. You never have to be alone again, August. Do you hear me? Never again.” Her unguarded words tug an honest smile to my face, and I drag my lips from her temple to just above her ear, inhaling her sweet scent.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

She shifts, and with all our walls sufficiently crumbled, she meets my mouth with hers.

I grip her head with my palm and keep her in place as I crush her to me. Different from the last kiss, we cling to each other, desperate for reassurance, erasing every inch between us because any separation is as painful as losing your soul. She makes me believe I might look in the mirror again and not get sickened by who stares back at me. I can strive to be whole because she believes I already am.

Hot and supple lips open, and I dive my tongue in to slide along hers. Heat—something we never lacked—rises to devour us, crashing like dangerous waves of the sea.

A small moan reverberates from her chest, and she nips my bottom lip with her teeth.

Electricity crackles like lightning across my sensitive skin. My eyes roll into the back of my head as blood rushes south.

Fuck.

She keeps this up, and my dick will have trouble staying in my pants.

“Make that sound again,” I rasp against her lips. “It’s been so fucking long, I need to hear it.”

The moan she utters strikes deep and my kisses grow frantic. I grip her jaw, stealing all her breaths.

We grasp at each other wherever we can, nails digging into tender flesh. Flashes of pleasure spark in our veins, reminding us we’re still alive and burning for each other. It’s only by sheer luck I have any functioning brain cells left as she licks inside my mouth, making my cock strain so hard against my jeans it hurts.

As much as I want to drag her under me and sink into her hot, slick flesh, we need to go slow. This is new—tenuous at best. I can’t shatter the trust we’ve been building over the last several weeks.

“Shortcake.” I pull back reluctantly and kiss her flushed cheeks, panting.

“I know. We should take this slow.” She leans her forehead on mine, her ragged breaths matching the ones straining from my chest. “It was always like this with us. Easy to get lost in each other.”

I nod and tuck her in close to my side, glad to be wearing jeans even if my dick isn’t as I adjust myself. “Rest. Because once you’re better, going slow will be the furthest thing from my mind.”

She relaxes and releases the tension in her shoulders, melting into my embrace.

We lie there for a few moments in silence, nothing but the sounds of our breathing in tandem. I breathe, she breathes. We’ve always been good at synchronicity.

I find my eyes drifting closed, the weight of my journey somewhat lifted. My muscles spasm, and I reach out for her hand, out of instinct, out of some fear she might not be there anymore, that this was all a dream, and I jumped instead of living.

She squeezes my hand in response, and I relax.

She didn’t bolt. She’s still here next to me.

Unburdening myself didn’t scare her away.

* * *

Taking care of Foster must have worn me out because the light is thin through the blinds of my room, casting shadows on the wall as I wake. It was only supposed to be a thirty-minute power nap, but it turned into a several-hour nap.

“Morning. Or evening, I guess I should say.” Sky’s nose is buried in my book as she sits against my headboard, biting her thumbnail.

“Are you past where I stopped?”

Her eyes twinkle. “Yes. It’s so good.”

I point a finger at her as I lean up on my elbow, my voice still hoarse from sleep and the emotional conversation from earlier. “Don’t tell me what happens to the cranky neighbor—what’s his name? Mr. Shaw. I’ve been trying to guess how he’s involved.”

She holds up the toilet paper bookmark, waving it in my direction. “I promise. But I guarantee you won’t guess it.”

I’m affronted as I flick away the makeshift bookmark. “How do you know I didn’t guess all the others? You have no faith in my abilities, do you?”

She grins and bites her lip, distracting me with the fact she still isn’t wearing anything other than my sweatshirt and little panties with stripes on them. Even the pink polish on her toes makes my brain fritz.

“Oh, I have faith in your abilities, August. Just not solving mysteries. Except for maybe one.”

I narrow my eyes in jest. “And what might that be?”

She’s coy as she plays with the edge of the book. “Well, you know what eighteen-year-old Sky sounds like when she comes, but what about twenty-three-year-old me?”

Fuck me.

I groan and flatten to my back, praying my dick didn’t hear that. “You’re still sick; I just can’t—oh god, why do I have to be such a gentleman?”

She laughs, the sound making this even harder. “I’m not contagious anymore, silly. You’re the one who first said we have to go slow.”

I turn my head toward her. “We are, we should, we have to. We—I can’t mess this up.”

She shrugs and goes back to her—my—book, the look of amusement still on her face. “Suit yourself.”

While she reads, I follow the slope of her nose and the curve of her lips. The sweep of her dark blonde lashes as she blinks, and the slant of her cheekbones as she bites her inner cheek.

I can’t believe she’s here.

My smile softens as I take in a deep breath, not out of necessity but because I’m not struggling to breathe anymore. There’s a weight on my chest that may never leave, but it’s lighter now, all because of her selfless ability to forgive me.

Suddenly shy, I rake my hands through my disheveled hair as I sit up. “Can I take you on a date? That’s what I was going to ask you before you scrambled my brains with the whole mystery thing.”

Her eyebrows raise, and she sets the book aside. “A second first date, huh? What were you thinking?”

“Anywhere except The Rusted Tavern,” I murmur, feeling idiotic about misinterpreting that whole thing.

She huffs out a laugh. “I’d love to go on a date with you. Not sure you can top the one you took me on in high school, though.”

I tug her ankle, and she squeals once I’ve pinned her under me, her eyes showing no trace of hurt or wariness anymore. My chest settles as I ghost my palms along her sides to cradle her face. “I think I can top that one.”

“Promise?”

Her grin is infectious, and I return it, stealing a quick kiss. “Promise.”