Page 51 of When Sky Breaks
Taken aback by this new information and how to process it, I barely hear his next question as I abruptly sit on the couch.
“What?” I bark, still reeling about him being here in this house for that long without me knowing.
He blurts out. “Does he treat you all right?”
“Who?”
He pierces me with those soulful eyes. “Johnny. Is he everything you wanted?”
I swallow, not sure how to answer, my pulse pounding and palms sweating.
“Does he even know how you take your coffee?” His cool tone tips over my barely contained emotions.
A choked laugh leaves my mouth, and I lean forward. “You didn’t even know it until we met for coffee.”
August moves in until we’re nose to nose, my breath mingling with his in this strange dance of wills.
“But the difference is, I’d never forget. Just like I’d never forget the books you love to read or the songs you blare on the radio or your favorite flower. Or that your favorite food is mac and cheese. Not just any mac and cheese, but the kind that’s so stringy, you can feel your arteries clogging. I’d never forget the little things that make you, you.” He moves a fraction more. So much so that his warm breath skates across my lips.
My inhales are shaky as I track his eyes roving over my face.
“Just tell me this, Sky. Does Johnny know what you sound like when you come? Because I never forgot.”
For a beat, I’m frozen by his words, his stare, the pull he’s always had on me. But then I rear back as heat streaks through my veins. “Congratulations. If you wanted to graduate to an even bigger asshole, you succeeded,” I growl as crimson rises along my neck. “Of all the things you could’ve asked.” I shake my head. “Should’ve led with ‘has he done anything to completely wreck your life and leave it in pieces.’”
I get up to leave, but he snatches my wrist. I wrestle it away, and he puts up his hands. There’s a sharp, tangible charge in the air from our exchange. Static buzzes in my ears and my pulse flutters.
How dare he remind me of just how intimate we were. How I gave him my body and my soul, how I lived to hear those groans coming from his chest. How dare he remind me he’s the only man I ever let inside my body. Even now.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. Don’t go. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. God, this isn’t me. I’m just in a bad mood and taking it out on you.” His face falls, and he scrubs at his hair, agitation in his movements. “I’ll just get back to work so I can leave you alone.”
Even as irritation fizzes in my belly, I furrow my brows. August rarely acted like this.
You don’t know him anymore.
Yet, my anger morphs into one of curiosity.
He moves to the ladder, but something in me stops him. “What’s the matter?”
He lowers the leg he had on the first rung and regards me carefully.
I sigh my defeat and nod in his direction. “I want to know.”
Stepping completely from the ladder, he sits on the couch, and I join him, leaving a lot of space, hugging my knees to my chest. His hands are in his lap, and he fidgets like he’s deciding what all he wants to tell me. “My parents rolled home about six months ago.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “Really?”
“Yeah, I was shocked too. Never thought I’d see them again.”
“Rightly so. They treated you like shit.” I clamp my mouth shut as he darts his gaze at me.
This empathy for the enemy is strange. On one hand, I shouldn’t care why he’s in a bad mood, but the other part of me craves to comfort him.
“Well, not much changed when they came home, but I figured if I put them up in an apartment and did my duty as a son, they’d see me differently.”
“Foster used to tell me that leopards don’t change their spots.”
“He’s a smart man. I think he said something similar to me at the funeral. Or maybe it was some other sage advice. I can’t remember.”