Page 84 of When Sky Breaks

Its soft fur is cool and thick under my palms. I stroke down and around an ear sticking straight in the air.

“And who are you?”

There’s a pink collar winking out from her fur.

The lump in my throat gets larger.

“Oh my god. He didn’t.”

I twist the collar to get to the tag as she licks the back of my hand.

“Winter.”

She barks, wagging her fluffy tail, and I step away, covering my mouth with my palms.

Tears pool in my eyes. August got the dog I had talked about so long ago. I can’t believe he remembered.

Really, Sky? You still don’t believe?

I laugh and bend to my knees, my chest expanding as she comes closer and lets me bury my face into her thick coat. “Gosh, you are so pretty, Winter. Your daddy is at my house. He made me come here to get better. Hope that’s okay.”

She woofs again and trots over to her water bowl to lap up a bunch of water, getting it all over the floor.

I stare at her some more as she moves from the water to the food in her bowl.

August constantly surprises me, and I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it.

Is it really a surprise or just a core piece of him? A piece that’s drawn to me and me to him. Sometimes, I’m a complete mess around him, but complete all the same. Now that I’m back home and here in his space, the walls slowly shatter into diamonds at my feet, reflecting the whole person underneath.

My stuffy nose, worse from the tears of seeing Winter and knowing August is taking care of my father and essentially me—I succumb to taking some meds. Once ingested, I venture over to the bookcase in the living room while Winter takes up residence on the couch and watches me with her ever-curious brown eyes.

There’s an old camera on display and a few other knickknacks among the rows of books. He’s a lot neater than I am, I muse as I run my fingers over the spines of several travel photography books. I pull one out and open to the middle, finding a beautiful picture of some redwoods in a dense, lush forest.

Page after page of gorgeous photos draws me in. August is just as good, if not better, than some of these artists. I drag out another book and look in the front at the names. My chest lurches when I see his.

Flipping quickly yet mindful of the fragile glossy pages, I find his spread. I knew he was in a book based on my internet search, but as my fingers ghost over his name in bold type font and the picture of him, I realize just how amazing he is. Those potent gray eyes stare back out at me. A flutter takes flight in my chest at the tiny smirk on his face.

His photos are as stunning in the book as the ones displayed at Snaps. Pebbles and sea glass on beaches. Vivid sunsets. Leaves dripping in dew and a ladybug in mid-flight off the tip of a finger.

I close the book and hold it close, breathing in the leather-bound cover now that my nose isn’t as stuffed up thanks to the medicine. He made a mark—his mark—in this busy, cruel world.

The word is pride. I’m proud of him and his accomplishments. Yet, he still put that aside and came home.

But for how long? Yes, he has a house, and I’m guessing he’s helping his mom financially, and he has Snaps and what he’s doing at Catalina’s, but is he truly rooted to this place? It’s much smaller than the world he saw through the camera lens. Will it be enough for him now that he’s seen it all?

Am I enough to keep him here?

Before my spirit plummets to the ground with all these swirling thoughts, I browse for something to read and possibly put me to sleep, as I’m certain August doesn’t have any fiction that would actually entice me. I should’ve brought my e-reader.

Wait.

No way.

The squeal I emit stirs Winter from her slumber, and she jumps from the couch to join me at the bookshelf. I bend and pet her before plucking a book off the shelf, my eyes roaming over the matte cover.

“Winter. Your daddy has been holding out on me. He has the newest book in the Murder and Mayhem series. Hold up, he doesn’t really read this stuff, does he?”

She woofs, and I giggle in excitement.

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