Page 92 of When Sky Breaks

“We can’t go back in time and change anything. All we can do is live fully the life we have.” She blows out a breath. “The hate eroded me from the inside out. But it changed nothing. Just made me miserable and bitter. I finally feel lighter, and it’s because of everything you’ve done for me. Once Foster is done with chemo, I’m moving back here permanently.”

My chest cracks wide open. As she tugs me up onto the bed, I don’t hesitate. I refuse to descend into the hell of self-loathing, not when Sky extends an olive branch. I’m no fool; I won’t get this chance again.

“Lie with me?” Her voice is a mere whisper as if she’s unsure. I slide under the sheets, facing her, sharing my pillow.

Winter chuffs and hops off the bed to trot out of the room, her nails clicking across the wooden floor to the living room. Most likely to her favorite spot on the couch.

Nose to nose, I breathe Sky in, her blue eyes roaming my face with that look of adoration I always craved. How can she—after all this time—still want me just as much as I want her?

“You need to forgive yourself, too,” she says, her breaths fanning, the warmth of her body infusing mine. “It’s not enough for me to forgive you. You have to see it yourself and trust that who you are is enough, that you don’t owe the world anything else to gain favor. You certainly don’t owe anyone your life.”

Muscles tensing, I study the shadows under her eyes, turning my stomach to granite.

“Don’t be mad, but I snooped in your bathroom.”

“Showered, too,” I tease, despite the sharp spike of anxiety in my stomach. “I smell my shampoo.”

The divot between her brows deepens. “August, I saw your medication.” She hesitates. “Are you okay?”

Briefly, I close my eyes.

Her finger runs along the side of my face. “You know I’d never judge you. You can tell me anything.”

“Can’t get anything past a nurse, can I?” Again, I tease to avoid this conversation.

“Don’t joke, please.”

She’s so earnest and open and isn’t that what I’ve always wanted? Her, here, with such acceptance of my shortcomings?

I clear my throat, hoping it clears the demons still strangling my soul. “When I left, I fell into a deep depression. Everything was just so dark, Sky, I couldn’t take it.” Those fucking tears I’ve gotten good at hiding sting behind my eyes.

She palms my cheek, and I no longer fight the pull to guard my deepest, darkest moments. They rise and spill over, heavy with grief for the man I was.

“All the shit I did came to a head. I was on an assignment, and I was alone like I usually was. I only took an assistant if my uncle required it.” My voice shakes as the memory flashes. “There was this cliff. My feet were dangling off the edge. I told myself it was for the best angle, for the perfect picture. I had to get it right. It was almost a manic obsession.”

Her beautiful and honest eyes well.

I hate to tell her this, but I’m compelled to unleash it all. “There was a moment I thought about jumping. Ending it all. Completely erasing the pain, the misery I caused for myself. It was windy and had recently rained. I could’ve just slipped on the slick rocks and that be it. Get swallowed by the cold sea and let it all fade away.” I gulp down air and shake my head. “But I couldn’t do it. I—there was, thankfully, a bit of self-preservation left in me. I saw your face in my mind, and I just couldn’t do it. I knew you were out there somewhere and it meant I needed to be as well. I couldn’t exist in a place where you weren’t. The next day, I booked an appointment with a doctor, and she hooked me up with some medication and a therapist.”

Sky tightens her grip on me, almost painfully, as I brush her hair off her forehead and curl it behind her ear. Touching her settles me. She’s a lodestone, pulling all my demons to the surface and banishing them one by one back to hell.

“I’m better now. I started sleeping and eating better. The guilt is always there. Not sure that will ever go away, but I can keep it at bay.”

Her silent tears undo me.

“Please, please don’t cry. This is not your burden to carry.” I thumb them away as she sniffs. “It was by my hand that I earned this life. I’m just trying to be better now.”

She places her hand on my chest, feeling how hard my heart beats for her. “Oh god, August, I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone. I wish, I?—”

“Shhh.” I kiss her temple and lay my head on hers, our connection the only thing tethering me to shore. “I’m okay now, I promise.”

“The thought of you not here anymore?” She shudders, and I draw her closer still, absorbing her tremors.

“I know, I know,” I murmur into her hair as she shakes her head.

“It should be me comforting you. You never have to be alone again, August. Do you hear me? Never again.” Her unguarded words tug an honest smile to my face, and I drag my lips from her temple to just above her ear, inhaling her sweet scent.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

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