Page 63 of When Sky Breaks

My lips twitch as I chew on a piece of toast. I’m enjoying my breakfast in the quiet house while Foster and Trek take advantage of the weekend. Trek got in late last night like he used to when we were teens, and I’m half tempted to bribe out of him whose house he’s been visiting. He’s been mysterious with some of his comings and goings, and my spidey senses are on full alert.

I type out a reply.

Me

How do you know my number hasn’t changed?

Unknown number

Well, I wasn’t positive until now. Took my chances.

Me

Awfully bold of you.

Unknown number

Much easier over a text. Believe it or not, you still leave me completely out of my element.

I gnaw on my lip, enjoying this far more than I should. Sitting up in my chair, I take a deep breath.

Me

Was there something you needed?

Unknown number

If you’re free, I’d like to take you where I meant to yesterday.

I finish my toast and leave him on read for a few moments while I go back and forth between what to do. Then I remember the efforts he’s putting in, and I’m pulled even more in his direction. I’m positive every time he looks at me, his sins hit him in the face. Yet, he doesn’t back down, remains steadfast in his convictions to make things right.

Nothing will bring back Chase. Not a wish, not even hope will undo what has been done. I will always miss him in a way that’ll never be satisfied. The what-ifs are entirely too cruel.

But I can move past the pain and start living. Forgiveness isn’t just about the action that needs forgiven. It’s about the person. I need this. I need to free myself from this prison of thought. I can either choose to be broken or live the life I was given.

Chase would want me to take the second choice and run with it, to be as free as he is in the afterlife. That alone fuels me to pick up my phone and answer August.

Me

Tell me when and where.

* * *

Why am I obsessing over what to wear? This isn’t some high school date. Hell, this isn’t even a grownup date. This is merely two adults going somewhere together. Period.

Which one, then? Blue or purple? I hold up two shirts, toss them both onto the back of my chair, and flop down on the edge of the bed.

“Yo, sis, what are you up to tonight—hey, are you okay?” Trek pushes open my bedroom door and leans on the frame, concern rippling his brows.

“I’m fine. And I have plans.”

“Oh. Okay. Can I ask who?”

“Am I surprised that you’re so nosy? No, I’m not. I’m seeing August.”

Trek practically slides off the doorframe but catches himself in time. “How? Like, how did this happen? I thought you were just low-key stalking him and ogling him every time he was at the firehouse?”

“I do not ogle at him. He just keeps showing up!”

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