Page 98 of When Sky Breaks
“Exactly.”
For a few minutes, we work in silence. He untangles fishing wire to dangle some rusty knives from the ceiling, and I wrangle the terrifying clown into the fridge, its colossal head sticking out far enough to scare the piss out of anyone walking by.
It’s comfortable being in his sphere, watching him twirl ideas around in that head of his. He was always a silent thinker, an old soul.
The quiet doesn’t last for long, and August turns, wearing glasses with eyeballs on springs, flopping every which way as he bobs his head. “How do I look?”
My hand, sticky with fake blood, pauses its path in making handprints all over the cabinets as I burst out laughing. “Ridiculous.”
At the same time, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I look to August for help. “Can you get my phone, please? It’s in my back pocket. I got a text and it might be Foster.”
He removes the crazy glasses and dips his hand into my back pocket. I try not to think about his hand that was just on my ass as he holds my phone in front of me.
“It’s from Johnny,” he says, barely disguising his annoyance.
“Open it. I have nothing to hide.”
August gives me a sharp look. “I trust you. It’s him I don’t.”
“I was very clear about us, so it’s probably just something about Foster. What’s it say?”
August taps on my messages and reads. “Uh, he says that he has no hard feelings and that he’s still going to remain on your dad’s care team but will send all communication through the other doctors. And to please erase his number.”
“He did not send that, did he?” I lean forward, my hands still in the air, and read over the message. My mouth flops open. “He really did text that. What the heck?”
August enters my space and reaches behind me to tuck my phone back in my pocket. His eyes never leave me as he jerks me forward into his chest. “He’s an asshole, and for once, I’m grateful. Means there’s no chance of him ever getting you back again.”
“Never,” I whisper, my eyes fluttering shut when August removes his hands and captures my face with his palms, kissing me.
I fight the urge to grab onto him and spread fake blood everywhere. He covers my face with sweet, tender kisses meant to remind me he’s not holding any grudges for my past with the ridiculously entitled Dr. Johnny Hawk.
“Is it hard not to grab onto me with those disgusting hands of yours?” he asks with a laugh once he’s stepped away and sees me standing there with my hands splayed out to the sides, the fake blood still tacky on my skin.
“Yes.” I wiggle them at him. “As tempting as it is to rub them all over your pretty face, I don’t want to scandalize you in front of everyone on the way out.”
He licks his bottom lip as he glances around, nodding to himself before pinning me with a devilish smirk and twinkling eyes. “How much longer do you have in here?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, I think as long as I need.”
“Can you stay quiet?” he asks, stepping closer, energy crackling off his frame, making him seem larger and broader. Sexier.
I narrow my eyes once he reaches me, avoiding my dirty hands. “Yeah, why?”
His gray eyes flick dangerously to my mouth and then back up. My pulse skyrockets. “Because I’m about to erase every memory of Johnny from your mind.”
My breaths become choppy. “Here? In the haunted house?” I squeak, desire hammering in my veins and pooling in my core.
He grips my hips, backs me to the fridge, and angles me so I’m to the side of it and out of view. He gathers my wrists together in one of his hands at the top of the fridge while the other runs lightly down my throat and over my pulse that’s flickering like mad.
“Right here,” he says before fusing our lips together.
My gasp is swallowed as August presses his entire body into me. Hips to chest, he covers me, daring me to make our presence known to the other volunteers.
He releases my mouth, and warm breath skates across my face as he assesses me, his eyes sparking with a long overdue passion. “Remember the greenhouse and bookstore?”
I nod, rolling my swollen lips, pressing my thighs together as an acute need stirs within me. “I never wanted to get caught, but the idea was thrilling.”
There’s a gentle squeeze to my wrists pinned to the fridge before his other hand meets the waistband of my jeans.