Page 82 of When Sky Breaks

“Thought it was clear I’d do anything for you. I need you to understand that. In sickness and in health.”

I pause the twisting of my fingers in my shirt. “Um, we’re not married.”

He chuckles at my tone. “Doesn’t matter. I want to help you. And your dad. Please let me.”

Being fiercely independent has its positives and negatives. I’ve grown into an adult capable of completing adult things. Paying rent and electricity bills, building a high-yield savings account, and navigating rush hour traffic on little to no sleep after a brutal twelve-hour shift, still cooking dinner without burning the house down.

But letting someone take care of me has been a challenge. Those I relied on to keep me alive and safe were the ones who hurt me. Driven by a need to be the one to help instead of the other way around makes letting go of those expectations difficult. I don’t want to be seen as weak.

My gaze snags on the flowers resting in a glass vase on my dresser. Despite what he saw at the restaurant and the assumption he made, August pushed through his self-doubt and still offers a piece of him freely, not knowing if the outcome involves him at all. If he can do that for me, then I can do this for him.

Losing all ability to fight, I drag myself from the bed and throw on some clean clothes. “Let me get my stuff together. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Well. That didn’t make me feel all sorts of warm, now did it? It’s clearly the raging fever.

It’s not, and you know it. After all, you kissed him.

After stuffing random clothes from my suitcase I had yet to empty, and toiletries into a duffel bag, I creep slowly to the door. “Okay, I’m coming out. Stay back, please.”

I open the door and put an arm over my mouth, so I don’t breathe any damn germs into the air. I think I have the flu or a bad cold, and it’s probably floating all over my room.

August’s soft smile greets me as he leans against the opposite wall, arms crossed. Through the thick haze of sickness, there’s no sense in denying he’s gorgeous. It makes my heart crash against my chest in a dangerous rhythm.

“There she is. You don’t look too bad.”

I crack a smile behind my arm and roll my eyes. “Stop, I look like an ogre.”

“A hot one,” he boldly says, his grin widening as he holds out a hand. “Give me your bags. I’ll walk you to your car.”

Keeping my arm over my face, I hand him my stuff and walk past him, ignoring how he makes me giddy even as I feel like death warmed over.

Once outside, August presses his house key into my palm after tossing my bags in the back seat. I get in and close the door to keep some distance, even though the window is down. Obviously, to keep him from getting my germs. Not because I want to kiss those lips of his again.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow, okay?” He crouches and brushes back a strand of my hair.

I shiver. Most definitely from the fever and not from his gentle touch.

“Thank you,” I say, a little out of breath, and start the car. “I really don’t know how to pay you back for this. It means a lot.”

He rests his chin on his hands, and the softness on his face nearly undoes me. “Shortcake, I don’t need your thanks. When you love someone, you’ll do anything for them and those they care about. Foster and I got this. We’ll be okay. Time to take care of you.”

Hearing him say that breaks off another huge chunk of my walls. He’s not only saying it, he’s showing it, and that’s all I really wanted. Proof he’s here for me. For good.

After he gives me his address to put in my GPS, he grips the seal of the door tightly. “There’s something you need to know before you go.”

I swallow and try not to wince at the pain. “What?” I croak.

If he’s about to crush me, I will drive to the other side of the continent and never return except to collect my father and maybe Trek if he’s nice.

“There’s another lady who lives there.”

My mouth falls open, shock bleeding into my face. “Excuse me?”

He smirks. “It’s not what you think, but if she wants to sleep with you, just kick her out, and she’ll go to her favorite spot.”

My eyes ping back and forth between his, full of amusement, the gray a shade brighter than usual. Finally, through the fog of illness, I get it. “You have a pet?”

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