Page 80 of When Sky Breaks

Glad I wasn’t holding the coffee, or it would be all over us. Shit. In my attempt to get today over with, I left it and back track to grab it.

“Oh, ew. Thanks. Hey wait,” she says, setting the box down and following me.

It hurts to ignore her, but it hurts even more to look at her. However, the gravity that lingers between us pulls my gaze to hers once I’ve snagged the to-go cup from near the wall. Her cheeks are pink from the chill in the air, and there’s a spark of happiness in her bright blue eyes. It stings, knowing I’m not the one who put it there.

“I had some flowers on my front porch when I got home last night. I know they were from you.”

I shrug and look past her shoulder where the view isn’t as pretty but won’t destroy me.

She angles her head. “Why didn’t you give them to me in person?”

Accepting defeat, I let my camera dangle in one hand and tell her the truth. “Because it hurts too much, Shortcake.”

She steps into view, and I finally let my eyes roam past her tennis shoes and leggings to her flannel shirt, landing on her face, brows crinkled in confusion at my words. “What are you talking about?”

The plea rises from my chest in a low and tormented voice. “Just tell me if you’re staying with him. Please just rip the bandage off and tell me so I can try to move on.”

Sky squints and pinches her lips together, her fingers curling under the hem of her shirt.

“I saw you at the restaurant, and I just…assume it means you picked him over me.” Saying it out loud sounds dumb to my ears, and I wish I could take it back.

“Why are men such idiots?” she whispers to herself as spots of pink rise to her cheeks, aware I can still hear her. “What you saw was the furthest thing from that. I ended things with him, August. I don’t know what’s going to happen between you and me, but I knew Johnny and I would never make it.”

She huffs out a laugh and shakes her head, her hands navigating to her hips. “I broke up with him because I can’t stop thinking about you, you dummy.”

She creeps closer, and I back up until I’m flush to the wall, in utter disbelief at the words coming from her pretty mouth. Her finger pokes into my chest. “I sent him away because although he may be this great doctor and all, he’s got nothing on how you make me feel. How good of a person you are despite what happened with Chase. But you saw one tiny moment and read into it, and just, what? Gave up? That’s not the August I know, certainly not the one I care about.”

Our breathing labors as her one finger becomes her entire hand that lays across my chest. She has to feel my heart galloping. My body trembles at her nearness. My restraint barely contained as she runs her fingers across the buttons on my Henley to the zipper on my open jacket.

“I got you coffee,” is all I say, my voice hoarse.

Her eyes flick to the cup in my hand before meeting mine. “Splash of milk and two sugars?”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

Her apple scent washes over me as a smile crests her face like she’s realizing something. “And you thought I’d pick him when it’s you who knows me best?” She shakes her head and removes her hand, taking away the warmth it brought me.

Grabbing the cup, she brings it to her lips and groans as the smell of roasted beans meets her nose. The sound resonates throughout my body, my tendons stretching thin with my purposeful self-control.

I want to kiss her so fucking bad. Her lips around the lid of the cup drives me mad. That one taste was not enough. I’m coming unhinged. By the words she said, the look in her eyes, and the devastating hold she has on me, physically and emotionally.

With another swish of her head and quirk to her brow over the rim of the cup, she retreats into the haunted house, leaving me reeling.

I thump my head off the thin walls of the building and utter a fuck under my breath.

I am the idiot.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

sky

Upon waking, I swallow and a burn in the base of my throat feels exactly like I ate Phoebe’s super spicy chili.

Oh god. No, no, no.

Burying my head under my pillow, I groan and try to breathe through a stuffy nose. I can’t be sick, not around Foster. His immune system is down because of the chemo. Crap. And Trek is out of town for another work thing of his.

Distressed, I roll over and drink some water from the bottle I keep on my nightstand, wincing as it slides down my swollen throat.

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