Page 125 of Don't Look Down

In the comfort of my arms, he curls into a tighter ball. Collapsing into himself. His shoulders are shaking, head bowed forward. He’s hugging himself tightly as if he’s afraid he’ll shatter into a million pieces if he lets go. I curl my arms tighter around him, shielding his body with mine.

His smaller frame is almost engulfed by me. Seeing him this way is one of the most painful things I’ve ever experienced. It feels like my soul is shattering right along with his.

I crouch slightly and lift him into my arms. Naturally, like we’ve done this a million times before this moment, he tucks his face into my neck and his legs wrap tightly around my waist. I carry him up the stairs and into my room. It’s tricky to lie down with him wrapped around me, but I manage.

Arms around each other. Legs twined together. His tears drip copiously down my neck and soak into my shirt.

Soothingly, I skate my hand up and down his back while the other cups his neck to hold him close. Gasping sobs fill the room. He’s close to hyperventilating, and I just so happen to have a little experience in this area.

I press gentle kisses to his temple, the top of his head. Anything I can reach. I’d do this forever if I needed to.

“Shhhh, Sky, just breathe for me, baby. I’ve got you, but I need you to breathe.” I meter my breathing and tilt his chin so his eyes meet mine. His gorgeous chocolate eyes are red and awash with tears. But he meets my gaze and tries to breathe with me. First, he inhales my exhales. I’d give him the very breath from my lungs if it’ll help him through this.

After a few more slightly erratic breaths, he finally matches my rhythm exactly. We breathe together. Breathe for each other and with each other. Almost like two broken halves of a whole that was incomplete without its other piece. I didn’t know I was broken, until I found him and he put me back together. I only hope I can complete him like he completes me.

It really hits me how much I love him. So much more than I ever thought I could love another person. This love is different from anything I’ve ever felt before. Of course, I love my mom, but this feeling surpasses that. It’s unique. It overflows and overwhelms me in the best possible way. It soothes and calms my soul, at the same time it makes me feel slightly chaotic. Like I can handle anything. I’ve felt it for a while now. I think I've loved him since the moment I met him. My soul recognized his,and everything clicked into place. He just made sense because he belonged. He belongs with me.

And right now, it feels like I’m losing him. He’s in my arms, but each tear that escapes his eyes, each sob that leaves his body, is another piece of Sky I’m losing. Falling away with his grief and sorrow. Leaking out of my arms, I can feel him pulling into himself, even as he calms. It’s not a physical thing, because he’s allowing me to comfort him, but I can still feel it. A disconnect I’ve never felt from him before, and it terrifies me.

It shakes me to my core, but I can’t show it. Not right now. This isn’t about me. He lost someone, and I’ll be there for him in any way he allows me. If he needs time or space to process this, then that’s what I’ll give him. Because I’ll give Skylar any and everything he needs. Every last piece of me. But I will never give up on him.

47

Landon

The next few days are a whirlwind of activity. I’m doing my best to be there for Sky, Addy, and Cayden while juggling my professional commitments. I barely have time to eat or sleep, and I’m running on fumes. But exhaustion doesn’t matter. Being here for Sky is my priority.

Leigh isn’t faring any better than I am, because he’s barely left our sides. He’s been sleeping in the guestroom, insisting he needs to stay close in case we need him for anything. He tagged along tonight to Cayden’s, and ordered some dinner we picked up on our way over.

Sky had spent the day organizing a file of pictures and videos for Cayden. He’s working on a video for Andrew’s services. Now, they’re sitting on the couch looking through them, while Leigh and I hover in the kitchen. By silent agreement, we begin cleanup. We’re giving them some space, but we’re close enough to show our support.

Leigh packs up the leftovers and stores them in the fridge, while I do the dishes. Cayden has a dishwasher, but thiskeeps me occupied longer. Their laughter rings through the air, interspersed with sniffles. It brings back memories of losing my grandma.

I remember how those memories can make the grief that much sharper.

My eyes automatically search for Sky. The distance between him and his friends is obvious to me, but it doesn’t seem like they’ve noticed. Addy is curled up against Cayden’s side. The look on Sky’s face can only be described as vacant. It worries me. Andrew’s death is hitting him hard. He won’t talk about it, even though I’ve caught him quietly crying a few times now.

I know better than to push. He’s shut me down when I’ve tried talking to him about it. It’s disconcerting seeing him so still and checked out. I’m trying to give him time to process his emotions, but I want him to know he’s not alone. I’ve been making it a point to sit quietly with him wrapped in my arms.

“He’s struggling, isn’t he?” Leigh rests his hip on the counter next to me, speaking quietly.

“Sky or Cayden?”

He shrugs.

My eyes bounce from Sky to Cayden and back again.

Without clarifying which one of them I’m talking about, I say, “Yeah.”

Later that night,I’m in bed scrolling on my phone. Leigh is settled in downstairs, and I’m waiting for Sky to come out of the bathroom and join me in bed. He’s been in there for a while now, and although I’m worried, I give him some space.

The door clicks open. My eyes follow him as he turns off the light and makes his way over to his side of the bed. He sets his glasses on the nightstand then climbs in. My breaths come easier having him next to me, but they freeze in my lungs when he turns his back to me, bundling into the blankets.

Nope. Fuck that.

After setting my own phone down, I roll over and cuddle up behind him. Pressing my nose into his neck, I inhale his familiar scent. “You don’t have to say a word, but I need you to hear me.” His breath hitches on his inhale, but he doesn’t respond. “I see you. I see you’re struggling, and I want to help you, but most of all I want to understand. I want to understand why you’re withdrawing, and that can’t happen unless you talk to me. I’ll give you time, all the time you need, but I won’t be frozen out. I love you, Skylar, and I’m not going anywhere. Metaphorically speaking, since I’m in fact leaving for a game tomorrow.”

He gasps and chokes on a laugh that sounds more like a sob, his shoulders trembling. He wiggles and burrows back against me, cuddling deeper into my arms. My heart swells and my chest expands with a breath of relief.

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