Page 130 of When Sky Breaks
Sky tears up and runs her fingers under her eyes, a tiny smile creasing her cheek. “I’m happy to be alive myself. Can I call you back about the whole meeting you all and everything? I’m just a little in shock and need to think about some things, if that’s okay.”
“Oh goodness, yes, yes. Take all the time you need. We’re here for you when you’re ready. Just call this number. Actually, let me get you mine, and then you can call or text anytime. Sky, I’m—sorry again for the tears—I’m so happy. I obviously don’t know why things happened the way they did, but I want you to know you have us. Whenever you’re ready, okay?”
Sky clears her throat of all the emotions she’d been fed.“Yes, I’ll be in touch soon.”
She gets her aunt’s number and hangs up. Facing me, she launches into my arms, and I rock to the floor, my back thumping off the foot of her bed.
“Oof,” I grunt before situating us better on the floor, her in my lap. “Are you all right? That was a lot.”
Her fingers twist in the cotton collar of my T-shirt. “I’d be a liar if I said everything was okay. Definitely not okay. But I will be. Can I just sit here with you for a minute and think?”
“Shortcake, you don’t even need to ask.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs into my neck, her warm air brushing along my skin.
We sit like this for longer than a minute. My ass might be numb, but I refuse to tell her that or make her move. My girl needs me, and I’ve never taken any job more seriously.
“August?” she asks, her body still curled in my lap.
“Yeah?”
She twists, and the utter anguish in her eyes slices through me like a hot knife. “Do you think Dannie really thought I died in the fire?”
I exhale slowly while I process her question, my heart thudding in my chest.
“I slept outside that night. I—I couldn’t face anyone after what I had just done or what I thought I did. It was all over my face. The guilt.” I swallow, and Sky nods, her fingers resting on my forearms, drawing circles in a slow pattern. It centers me.
“Of course, there was a party going on, so no one even noticed my return. They were already so drunk. The music was loud, no one but me heard the sirens. In the morning, the door flew open, waking me up, and your mom—who I didn’t know was your mom at the time—came barreling down the steps, just sobbing. She was yelling something like, ‘They’re dead.’ I had seen her at several of my parents’ parties but never talked to her. She didn’t even look at me before getting in her car and leaving.”
I blow out a breath and lay my head atop Sky’s as she wraps her arms tight around my waist, her barely disguised gasp burrowing into the fabric of my shirt.
“After that, I never saw her again. I asked my mom who she was, and she told me. That’s all I know, baby. I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer for you.”
Her tear-soaked face meets mine, and I whisper, “I’m sorry,” again, my voice cracking. I hate seeing her cry and not being able to stop it.
“It’s not your fault anymore. Please don’t hate yourself for this. You didn’t know. No one knows. That’s what I get to live with, and I have to be okay with it. Just hold me. That’s all I need.”
I obey and pull her closer, both of us closing our eyes, shielding each other from all the pain.
It might take days, or months, or years before Sky is really “okay” with all this new information, but she can bet she won’t have to go through any of it by herself.
It’s her and me against all the heartache in the world. Nothing can break us now.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
sky
When your past converges with your present, the feelings associated with it collide from each messy end. It’s a dichotomy I’m only beginning to sort through a week later.
The sights and sounds of the fall festival barely register through my jumbled thoughts.
Even August’s arm around my waist doesn’t pull me from my funk, nor does the image of Foster taking half of Trek’s bag of roasted peanuts and scattering them to the birds in the park near the fried Oreo booth conjure a laugh.
I’ll get there, though, once I’ve dug through the muck of my reality. My mom is dead. I have other biological family members eager to meet me. Everything is different yet the same as I watch Trek toss a peanut at Foster once he discovers most are filling the bellies of sparrows and neighboring squirrels.
“This bag of nuts cost like eight bucks, old man, and you’re feeding the rodents,” Trek says, keeping the small, greasy sack out of the way when Foster lifts a hand for more.
“You know you’ll be buying up some of that cotton candy when Hazel gets here. So quit your complaining.”