Page 47 of When Sky Breaks

“No, they don’t. Makes you look bad. Very bad. It took Benny getting whacked upside the head by Kayla a few times for him to get it. But you, mijo, it comes naturally to do things for people out of love. Always has.” She pats my chest before turning to leave. “Don’t forget that.”

“All that would be easier if she wasn’t dating someone.”

Catalina shuffles back around as her eyes widen. “That handsome doctor everyone is talking about?”

I scoff and roll my eyes, moving to another wall to tape. “He would be the one.”

“Well, he is very handsome,” she says, patting at her dark strands curled neatly near her soft jawline.

The glare I send over makes her laugh. “We all know looks will only get a man so far. I’m not worried. Sky’s a smart girl. She’ll know you’re better for her.”

When I don’t respond, she lifts the empty plate and holds it against her stomach, watching me closely. She steps forward and brushes that stubborn strand of hair that never cooperates off my forehead before tapping my cheek. I lean into it, still surprised I got lucky to have her treat me like one of her own. I missed it while I was gone.

“Just stay true to yourself. The rest will work out.”

Catalina retreats, and I blow out a breath. It’s obvious my feelings for Sky have never gone away. Subconsciously, she’s always lending a hand in the things I do. Just like this place.

I glance around at the unfinished room. If I look hard enough, I can see the kitchen, bedrooms, bathroom, and sitting area. Mostly, I see those who’ll be safe under Catalina’s watchful care. Safe from those who want to hurt them. People like Sky’s dad.

Even if she never gets past what I did, I won’t stop from changing the things I can for the better.

My phone buzzes, and I slide it from my back pocket to see a text.

I freeze when I read it.

He can’t be serious.

Another text comes through, and I let out a breath, feeling mildly better. It’s hard to say no to him, especially when he was there for me during a tough time.

I respond and shove my phone into my pocket, trying not to think about tomorrow.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

august

After lugging the grocery bags up the steep steps to the apartment, I stop to catch my breath before rapping on her door. When I moved my parents here six months ago, I never thought to have them closer to ground level. Guess I didn’t think I’d be visiting that often or pretending to be the doting son.

I crack my knuckles, easing the ache from carrying all the bags, and wait for her to answer the door. She hasn’t offered to give me a key and I haven’t asked.

“Coming!” she says from inside as the door latch comes undone and she turns over the deadbolt.

As soon as the door opens, I’m caught in a cloud of cigarette smoke. Ducking to grab the plastic handles and some clean air, I hold my breath before straightening and offering her a small smile as she lets me in.

“Hey.” I stride into the kitchen, lifting the bags onto the cluttered countertop and shoving aside an open container of takeout. I ignore the smell of old food and fill her bare cabinets. “When was the last time you went grocery shopping?” I shove a box of cereal next to a can of soup. What I bought her barely fills two cabinets.

“I’m waiting on my food money card to come in from the state,” she says, dropping to the couch, reaching for her pack of cigarettes. Her hair is half in a braid, half spilling over her shoulder in dark waves. Her roots are greasy, and her clothes hang off her slim body.

“What about the money I gave you?” That’s all they ever asked of me.

Love wasn’t good enough. It was always money they wanted, even when I didn’t have any to give them. Now, I have more than enough to help take care of the woman who had no issues leaving me to fend for myself.

She shrugs and grabs the opened bottle of cheap red wine atop the table.

I stalk over and snatch it from her hands.

“What’s the matter with you?” She stares open-mouthed, the cigarette burning brightly between her fingers.

I huff out a bitter laugh. What isn’t wrong with me? Let’s see, I put on a good front, yet I’m half a man, bogged down by guilt and the burning desire to prove I’m not the same guy I was. But I’m too late. Always too late.

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