Page 55 of When Sky Breaks

He hums again. “When you do, make sure you tell her how much I taught you.” His voice sobers again. “You promise if things get bad, you’ll tell me?”

Smiling, I stretch out my legs and cross them at the ankles, laying a hand on my chest, glad to feel the thump thump of a beating heart. “I promise. It’s all baby steps, right?”

“That’s right, kiddo, baby steps. Shit, well, I’d tell you about the job, but it sounds like things are going the way they should there?”

I nod to myself before answering him in a way that satisfies his curiosity. Once we hang up, I lift my head to the sky and let the cool October breeze wash over me.

Things might not be perfect, may never be perfect, but after all this time, I finally have something. It’s small but leaves my chest lighter.

It’s called hope.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

sky

At breakfast the next morning, the thrumming of my nails on the table must have alerted Foster enough to speak up about it. “Something on your mind, baby girl?”

He studies me as I lift my fingers and wrap them around the spoon to dip into my oatmeal. He’s barely touched his, and it’s understandable. The chemo erases most of his appetite, and there’s evidence of how thin he’s gotten over the last few weeks. However, the hollow cheeks and pale skin don’t overshadow the flinty amusement and strength he possesses as his eyes crinkle.

I’m just going to come out with it. Can’t hide too much from this family. “Are you…uh, friends with August or something? I know he’s the one who’s been updating all the stuff around here.”

Foster tucks a fist under his chin and watches me squirm in my seat. If Trek was here, he’d no doubt chime in or make fun of my distress.

“Good to see you two talking again.”

“We’re not exactly talking.” More like tiptoeing around the tension between us.

“The fan looks nice, though, right?” he asks, his eyes twinkling as I scowl around a mouthful of oatmeal.

“What is your goal here? Why are you so invested in what happens between me and August?”

He shrugs. “It won’t really matter if you’re dead set on dating that doc. How is he, by the way? I haven’t seen him since that eventful dinner. Did our small-town cooking scare him off?”

I roll my eyes. “Not hardly. He’s fine, still around, busy at the hospital, but I imagine he’ll go home soon for his other patients.”

Foster cocks his head, and I feel the question coming, even though he likes to avoid all of mine.

“And when he leaves, and I’m all better, what then? Are you going back too? Should I expect him to be around for Thanksgiving and Christmas?”

I swallow the last bite of oatmeal before shoving it away and slumping into my chair. “I’ll answer you if you answer me.”

Foster would arch an eyebrow if he had any left. “I don’t want to make you feel bad by telling you this, but since you’re insistent, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

At this, I straighten my spine and lean in.

“I was shopping one afternoon and felt really fatigued. This was around the time I started feeling sick way too often. I knew something was up and was waiting to get into the doctor. Well, I passed out, and when I woke up, August was there. He took me to the hospital and then stuck around after that to make sure I was all right. Then he just started fixing things around the house and I let him. He was so adamant about it, and I was alone, so I figured, why the heck not?” Foster taps a finger on the table. “Then, when his dad died, I sort of took on the role of father for him. I apparently have that aura about me or something.”

My eyes flood with tears, and Foster nods. “I told you. Don’t think any of this is your fault. The cancer would’ve come about no matter who was here. I know August hurt you, and I’m not here to force a reconciliation between you two. He’s grown into a solid man and I’ve appreciated everything he’s done for me. But you come first. You and Trek. So if there’s something I need to know, then tell me.”

The truth is right there on the tip of my tongue. I wish I could tell him. But it wouldn’t do any good.

I shake my head and take my empty bowl and his half-eaten one to the sink. “There’s nothing to tell. We’re over and not sure if that’s going to change.”

Fosters hums. “Okay, fair enough. Then what about Johnny?”

I sigh, my fingers digging into the edge of the sink, forgetting I bartered an answer for an answer.

“I don’t know, Dad. He’s nice and shows interest in me.”

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