Somebody Else's Sky (Something in the Way 2)

Uncomfortably hot, I woke with a start when I didn’t recognize my surroundings. The sheets were soft and white, and sun came through the slatted blinds, warming up the bedroom. I had no idea when I’d fallen asleep or if Tiffany was by my side or what. In the kitchen, the faucet ran.

I sat up to grab my jeans off the floor and get my cigarettes from the pocket. I lit one and leaned back against the headboard. My head was clear for the first time in months. Maybe years. I shut my eyes and let the nicotine work through me. As soon as I did, I saw her. Lake. Lake, nearly falling at my feet in the foyer.

Physically, she’d changed. Her legs were still too long for her body, but now, she was lithe, not gangly. She had real breasts, ones that were just the right size for her frame. It made me equally uncomfortable and aroused. I liked them, but as they’d never be mine to memorize, to worship, I hated them. I hated the idea of other men looking at them, drooling over them, touching them. I breathed through my nose until the excruciating image passed.

She’d come to a hard stop when she’d noticed me, her lips parted, cheeks flushed. Why? Did I scare her? What would she have done if things’d been different? Leapt into my arms the way her sister had? In that short skirt, she would’ve pressed her heat right against me. Fuck fuck fuck. For what had to be the hundredth time in twenty-four hours, I was getting hard again.

Could I deny it? I wanted Lake. I wanted her bad. I always had, but I’d been able to control it before. She was still young, but she was seventeen now, and every inch the beauty I knew she’d become. She had lush blonde hair that was a little ratty and, like her legs, too long. Her breasts were high and round. For dinner, she’d worn tattered jeans and a t-shirt but why, why the fuck did she still look like the sexiest thing I’d ever seen?

I took a drag of my cigarette. All the times I’d fantasized about Lake inside, and when she was standing right in front of me, I couldn’t even speak to her. What the fuck was there to say? I’d wanted to fall to my knees and pay homage. To overwhelm myself in her. Soak my senses with her. Touch her body, smell her neck, taste her mouth, hear her moan, feel her relief that I was home.

And still, she made me so fucking mad, demanding answers, pushing me places I didn’t want to go, wearing an outfit that’d rouse a dead man. If just being in her presence was enough for me to feel the blood rushing through my veins, having anything more with her would be too explosive. I couldn’t do explosive. Not with my history. I’d destroy everything good about her . . .

I looked up at a noise in the doorway. In a terrycloth robe, Tiffany held a glass of water and a Domino’s box. “It’s half pepperoni, half Meatlovers. I wasn’t sure what you like.”

I swallowed thickly. That small gesture brought me back to where I should be—to this bedroom, to Tiffany. It’d been so long since anyone had taken care of me. Had made me a monster sandwich or explained the constellations to me or put a roof over my head. Over the years, those I thought I’d taken care of had actually been taking care of me. “Thanks, babe,” I said and meant it. “It’s perfect.”

She smiled a little and came into the room. “You look hot.”

“A little.”

She set the stuff down and flipped a switch for the overhead fan. On her way back to me, she pulled a bottle from her robe pocket. “I took this from the house for you. It’s the bourbon my dad drinks, so it must be good.”

I looked longingly at the liquor. I could count on one hand the sips of alcohol I’d gotten behind bars, and I fucking missed it. “Wish I could, but I have that meeting with the parole officer at three. What time is it?”

“Noon.”

“Fuck. Normally by this time, I’d have already had breakfast, lunch, and worked half a day.”

She played with the bedsheet. “You were so tired. I didn’t want to wake you.”

I kept my half-smoked cigarette in hand and chugged the water in one go.

“We’re not supposed to smoke in here,” she said.

I shook my head. “Have to be able to smoke if I’m gonna stay here, Tiff. I can’t not do it.”

She sighed. “All right. We might have to disable the fire alarm.”

“Yeah.” I sighed at my cigarette. I didn’t want to set off the alarm and have to get up just yet. I dropped it in the remains of the water. “Didn’t think of that.”