Page 91 of When Sky Breaks
“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.