Page 77 of When Sky Breaks
August isn’t perfect, but neither am I. He’s never been a lowlife, and that statement alone has anger rippling over my skin in waves. “I don’t expect you to understand. There’s a lot you don’t know about me or August and, to be honest, I never felt comfortable enough to let you in.”
To let anyone in. Except August. He knows the deepest parts of me and still never judged me once for them.
Johnny scrapes his chair away from the table as he stands, rising to his full height as if that will intimidate me. All I do is stare, impassive, as he pulls his sleek wallet from the pocket of his slacks and flicks it open. Dumping a wad of bills on the table, he glares at me as he tucks the wallet back in.
Unable to keep the barb to himself, Johnny spears me with a derisive expression as he shrugs on his suit jacket, looking so out of place here among the sea of jeans and T-shirts.
“Give my meal to your father. He needs to be eating healthier as he goes through treatment.” With that, he stalks out of the restaurant, the gust of wind from outside caressing the skin on my neck.
Relief floods me, and I slump in my chair. The rock sitting on my lungs cleaves away.
The server arrives and asks if I want everything to go, and I tell her no, that I want to eat my meal, and she can keep Johnny’s. Neither Foster nor Trek will eat it, and I’d rather give her more of a tip for having to witness Johnny being an ass.
Once I finish my delicious meal, I wipe my mouth, grinning at the barbecue sauce left behind, and hand her the whole wad of cash, loving the way her eyes light up when she sees how much I’m leaving her.
It’s the small things that count. Johnny can go screw himself.
* * *
“You got a minute?” I ask Phoebe once I’ve pulled out of the restaurant parking lot.
“Yeah, hang on,” I hear her say before rustling sounds come from the phone.
I place her on speakerphone so I can concentrate on driving.
“Sorry, I’m good now. Graham just turned on one of our episodes, so I made him pause it.”
“Oh, we can just talk later, then.”
“Absolutely not. He’s got a phone. He can browse while he waits. We spend a lot of time together, it’s you I miss. So tell me, how have you been, how’s Foster? Trek?”
I chuckle. “We’re fine. Pretty good, actually. I feel like we’re getting on the right track, you know?”
“Aww, babe, I love to hear that. What else? How’s Johnny?”
I sigh. “I just broke up with him.”
She gasps. “Really? What did he do? Do I need to grab Graham and drive down for some recon? Despite his gentle giant attitude, you know he’d back you up.”
“No. It’s fine. I just realized he wasn’t for me. It just didn’t feel right.” I crinkle my nose, remembering the pinched look on Johnny’s face whenever I did something he didn’t approve of. Like I was one of his patients who chose the chocolate pudding over the oatmeal because when you’re dying, the last thing you want to eat is bland food.
She hums. “Probably the right call. He was all right for the most part, but I don’t think he got you like he should’ve.”
“Definitely not. There were days I would barely remember to text him, let alone see him.”
She’s silent for a minute while I sit at a stoplight, the car finally warm, and all the windows clear from the condensation.
“Does it have anything to do with August?”
I hit the gas when the light turns green. “Some of it. August and I have spent some more time together.”
There’s a loud shriek from her end.
Her shocked response makes me elaborate. “Not like that, no. Make no mistake, this hasn’t been easy. Seeing him and being around him has been hard…”
“But?”
The breath I release is shaky, as are my words. “It’s made me realize a lot about myself and how I’ve shut so many people out. And god, Phoebe, I can’t lie. The chemistry is still there between us.”