And let me tell you, I’m ten kinds of messed up right now, but my heart knows it isn’t fucking Sol.
I reach my room. Shut the door. The window calls to me, but my legs aren’t playing ball. They tremble like a deer on stilts. I slide down the door, my back to the old wood, and there I stay, my head between my knees, fighting to stay conscious—to stay present—as the universe tries to tear me apart.
It’s a while before I hear muffled voices on the landing. Then Skylar in the bathroom. Door lock clicking, water running.Tracking him as he emerges feels like a fucking lifeline. Then he pauses in the hallway and my blood pounds in my ears again.
Don’t leave.
Skylar doesn’t leave. He goes to his own room and shuts the door, and the sound stirs some life into me.
I heave myself off the floor and lose the clothes I took to sea, swapping my oil-stained combats for some sweatpants Jack gave me last week.
“To sleep in.”
Right. Sleep. I know I need it. Or at least some real rest, but I already know my brain and body are gonna work in tandem all night to keep me awake. Physical bullshit entwined with memory and misplaced fear. Yearning for the kind of peace I’ve only ever found with my lips fused to the soul next door.
It’s fucking weird that I miss him. But as I lay myself down, I’m distracted by the off-beat jolts in my chest, my neck, and my wrists, like trapped demons beating their fists against hell-proof glass.
Except, it’s not fucking hell-proof, unless the devil is trying to find its way home and I’m on the wrong side.
The flare eases, leaving me dizzy and sweating. I take a deep breath, a slow one, but it’s on me again before I find any solace. And that’s how it goes for the next however long. Rush and retreat, over and over, until all I can think about is walking into the raging ocean and never coming back.
Call Whitlock.
I think about it. I think about Jack too. Sol. Even Moth. But it’s not them who tether me.
It’shim.
Skylar.
In the next room.
I get up before I can make sense of what I’m doing. Barefoot, and still so dizzy I need the wall to keep me upright to the fucking door.
Out in the hallway, though, the narrow line of moonlight from Skylar’s room, from hisopendoor, is the only guide I need.
I push it enough to stagger into his space. Snatch a breath of his fresh rain and eucalyptus scent as he sits up in the dark, bed sheets falling to his waist.
He doesn’t say anything. Just inclines his head at the bed beside him and my feet find their own way there.
I ease down, my breath catching in my throat, clawing at my lungs.I can’t?—
“Shh.” Skylar slides his hand over my clammy bare skin, palm splayed over the mess still trying to rip its way out of my chest.
He presses down, grounding me while he plugs two fingers into the pulse point of my wrist.
I know he’s checking, counting. But even as my heart keeps misfiring, it doesn’t seem to matter anymore.
A slow breath escapes me.
I shut my eyes.
And for the first time in days, I fucking sleep.
18SKYLAR
I watch Mal for hours while he sleeps, counting his pulse, tracking every breath. Pretending the faint scent of firearms clinging to his hair and skin isn’t there.
He’s a quiet sleeper. It’s not hard to imagine a reality where he’stoo quiet, and it keeps me up when I need rest before a shift that starts at the crack of dawn.