Skylar’s voice reaches me. I realise I’m staring without seeing a fucking thing and he’s noticed.
He’s sat up and his hood has slipped down, leaving me at the mercy of his ashy stare.Smoke and metal.Two things that used to mean death, but now meanhim.
That missing lifetime has a lot to answer for. Mainly, that it hasn’t gifted me armour to weather the way he’s looking at me right fucking now.
I force the tension from my muscles, shaking it off. “What?”
Skylar eyes me a moment longer. Then lies back again. “Sit down or fuck off.”
What a choice.
And I should probably take the second. But I meander closer to him anyway and consider my options. Two couches. One has Skylar sprawled at one end. The other doesn’t, which gifts me the easiest decision I’ve made in a while.
I claim the space beside Skylar. He flicks me a glance, then goes back to watching the late-night news bulletin on the TV, his eyes as heavy-lidded as I want mine to be.
Simmering down, half asleep.
I’m fucking jealous. My body is knackered. Even my faulty heart can’t be bothered to start a riot in my chest. But my brain…it won’t shut the fuck up. I think about Jack. Change my mind and think about Sol instead, and the conversation I had with Skylar in the utility room. Put the pieces of the last thirty minutes together and shift to face Skylar in the same moment he looks at me again.
He arches a brow, waiting.
I don’t keep him long. “Did you check out Sol’s ribs?”
Skylar turns back to the TV. “Ask him.”
“I’m asking you.”
“So?”
“So I want to know if he’s okay, before I barge into his room and ask him myself. Or Jack’s room. Wherever he is.”
“He’s not in Jack’s room.”
“Why not?”
Skylar breathes that slow, deep breath again. The one that had me swaying on my feet four minutes ago but frustrates the hell out of me now. “They’re not together.”
“Not what I asked.”
“No?” He wrenches his gaze back to me again. “What are you asking then? And why the fuck are you asking me?”
Good questions. All of them. Maybe I will ask Sol—about all of it, not just why he’s come home from wherever with a wince and a fucking limp. Maybe I’ll ask himnow,as the patience the Regiment taught me to access runs dry.
I stand.
For the second time tonight, Skylar catches me.
For the second time, Ilet him, because his hand wrapped around my wrist is a whole other seismic shift.
He tugs me down and I don’t even try to resist.
I don’t want to.
I mean, Ineedto know what in the ever-loving fuck is going on in this fucking place. And I’ll find out however hard Skylar tries to stand in my way. But right now, I need this feeling more.
His fingers curled around me.
His palm pressed to my pulse point.