Page 11 of When Sky Breaks

Relief briefly flashes in my chest at the possibility he won’t want to be in this mess with me. It means all my walls can stay properly erected for as long as I need. However, I reach out to grab his hand, and he swings his gaze to mine, searching for answers. “I’ll explain later, okay?”

He flexes his jaw with a stiff nod, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sleek dress pants so I’m forced to release my hold on him.

Lifting his chin at Trek, Johnny says to me, “Go on. Sounds like you need to take care of something big. I work tomorrow evening, but I’ll be waiting for your call.” He leans in and kisses my cheek before turning and striding through a wall of people and out of the bar.

Trek tugs on my arm, and it takes an army of resolution to look at him. There’s worry swimming in his features. My stomach sours and all the alcohol I consumed threatens to come out.

“It’s quieter outside,” I say, letting him pull me through the crowd as I try to keep up. One guy extends his arm in a drunken stupor, and Trek brushes him aside, issuing a “fuck off” before we reach the outside door.

The lingering humid air sticks to our skin as we leave the air-conditioned bar and pass by a line of people waiting to get in.

The parking lot Trek leads me to is quiet, much like my silence as I follow. Until I know what this is about, I don’t speak. But my heart pumps wildly with a deep-seated fear I won’t like what he has to say.

Finally, he stops under a street lamp next to my car and slumps against it, his hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets.

“Trek. You’re scaring me with this show of whatever it is.” On the verge of vomiting, I rub my arms to ward off the goosebumps while I wait for him to lift his head and tell me what the hell is going on.

“You gotta come home with me.”

Instantly alert and sober, I stumble forward and grip his arms, digging my short nails into his hard biceps. “Why? What’s wrong? Is it Dad?”

Trek jerks his head up and down and straightens, sniffing before replying. My vision blurs before he utters the words no daughter ever wants to hear. “Dad’s sick, sis. He has cancer and he needs us—you home.”

CHAPTER FIVE

sky

A bitter anger courses through my veins from the night before.

At myself.

How could I ignore my dad like this? He needed me, and I fucking turned my back on him.

It was bad enough having Trek on my couch the whole night, his presence reminding me of my sins. Sleep never came and I tossed and turned to images of Chase and Foster, my failures on an endless loop. August appeared as well, a dark shadow, further souring my mood as the sun rose.

I tear open the closet and drag out my large duffel as Trek sits on the edge of my bed, his hair in disarray, watching me meltdown.

“It’s going to be okay. He’s going to be okay.” Trek’s attempts at calming me down are shit.

“We don’t know that. There are never any guarantees. Ever.” Blowing out a hot breath, I stomp to my drawers and gather what I need for a prolonged visit. I don’t know how long I’ll be there, how bad his prognosis is, how his temperament is going to be, how he’ll manage shopping and cooking, and what if, what if?—

“Sky, come here.” Trek stands and pulls me to his chest once it’s obvious I’m having a breakdown.

I don’t want his comfort, but fighting it isn’t possible. I cling to his sweatshirt, mindful he doesn’t smell a thing like August or Johnny and not sure if I’m okay with either of those thoughts or not. I’m not okay with any of this.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” I say, my voice muffled as he hugs me tight.

The soft fabric of his clothes helps me fight the courage to look him in the eyes. Avoiding his sad face is the only thing I can do lest I give in too easily. Trek was always a good brother, even when he fucked up. He was genuine and fierce in his loyalty to his family. But it was a lie, or at least felt like a lie, and all I have are my overwhelming feelings, as raw as they are.

My bleeding heart breaks open once again, and a sob rips from my throat. Home is the last place I want to be, but it’s the only place I should be. Foster needs me and honestly, I need him, too.

“I know, I know,” Trek murmurs into my hair. “This isn’t about us right now. This is about Dad. You and I will talk, though, so you’re going to have to wrap your head around that at some point. We can’t keep running from it.”

He steps away and lets me move past him to wipe my face and continue my packing. “Did you really not open anything I sent you?”

I shake my head in silence and dump a bunch of rolled socks into my duffel, knowing there’s a washing machine at home, but the stress makes me believe it won’t be enough, that nothing will be enough.

Not enough time, not enough treatment options, not enough moments to make up for the ones I lost, all because I’m hurting. Sounds stupid when I think about it.

---