Page 43 of When Sky Breaks

Trust.

Their footsteps fade like my hope.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

sky

My meeting with August didn’t go according to plan. But when does anything in my life ever go the way I want?

“Yo, Sky. Hey. You in there? You better be before I use this hammer. I can’t promise my aim is that good.” Trek nudges me to the present with the heavy hammer in his hand, his expression one of curiosity.

“Sorry,” I grumble, taking the nail from the box and placing it in the pre-drilled hole.

We’re erecting one frame for the haunted house, and I’m already failing at my job. But I can’t get August off my mind. That first official meeting was…well, it left me hollow. I said what I needed to say, but I don’t feel any better about it. If anything, I feel worse. Like speaking it out loud scraped over a barely scabbing wound.

Is this how it will always be whenever I come home?

What if I decide to stay here permanently myself? Can I live with this version of Sky and August, two passing ships, both stranded on a bed of tangled memories?

“Are you okay?” Trek asks, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

For the beginning of October, it’s still in the upper sixties temperature wise, but for a corporate man, I guess this would be hard work. Try getting through a sixteen-hour shift in the ER, dear sweet brother. On a night shift with a full moon. That was a fun rotation during my clinicals.

“I’m fine.”

“Seriously. I know we aren’t completely on the same page, but I know we’ll get there faster if we actually talk about things when they’re bothering us. Like, for instance, I can’t hammer anything if you keep your hand like that and stare off into space. Talk to me.”

He’s right. And pushy.

Fine.

A deep breath fills my lungs. “I met with August this morning for coffee.”

Trek pauses his movements. “Ah, makes sense then. The grumpy ’tude is pouring off you.” He twirls his finger in the air around my head before lining up the metal tool with the nail pinched between his fingers.

I shove him in the arm, making him miss the nail and almost connect the hammer with his thumb. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Damn, sis. Like, tell me how you really feel, okay? With words, this time.”

Resigned, I sit back on my knees and take off my work gloves. See, I was smart and wore them, while Trek likes to live on the dangerous side and go without, chancing injury on the job.

“We sort of got into it.”

His mouth flops open. “In the middle of the coffee shop? Oh boy, were there a lot of people? You know this will be the top story in the town chatter group.”

I tear a few blades of grass near my knees, stretching them out between my fingertips before tossing them at him. “No dummy, it wasn’t in the middle of the coffee shop. It felt weird and awkward just talking about stupid things, and I couldn’t do it, so I tried to leave. But then he cornered me. I had no choice but to just let it all out, and I mean all out.”

Trek tosses the grass back at me, squinting in the bright sun. “Well, to be fair, we both kinda deserve your wrath. Did you at least make him cry?”

I snatch the hammer from the grass and point to a nail. “Load it up.”

He eyes me warily, as he probably should, and wedges the nail in the open hole. “Is this the point where you take all your anger out on me, and I take it like a champ because it’s the right thing to do?”

In one fell swoop, I bring down the hammer, enjoying the yelp Trek emits as the nail drives successfully into the hole without harming a hair on his pretty boy hands.

“Good god, woman. I think I should keep my mouth shut from now on.”

“Maybe you should. You’re not really helping.” I rifle through the box of nails for a nice, shiny, pointy one. “And then, on top of it, Johnny showed up, too. So that was fun.”

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