Page 90 of When Sky Breaks
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.”