After dinner, she even participated in Hailey’s performance that she graced the family with every week. Hailey loved to make impromptu scenes and skits, involving various members of the family. Skye volunteered without hesitation.
It was a side of her I hadn’t seen in so long. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been aching for it.
When the night had wound down, and Hailey had fallen asleep in Skye’s lap, people started to leave for their own homes in little groups until it was just Skye and me sitting by the fireplace with Mom and Dad.
I’d been nursing a glass of bourbon my father had given me after dinner. I spun what was left of the ice around the bottom as Mom and Skye talked, but I hadn’t been participating in the conversation for a while.
It wasn’t until Dad’s soft snores disrupted the discussion that Mom finally tapped him on the leg and decided to call it a night.
“Sleep tight,” she whispered to the two of us. “Let me know if you need anything, Skye.”
Skye nodded and waved to them as they headed to their bedroom at the back of the house on the first floor. Dad had always bragged about how their bedroom was the best room in the house, quiet and far away from all us rambunctious kids upstairs.
Now, it served them well when they had guests to give everyone privacy.
When Skye and I were finally alone, I set my glass down on the side table next to my chair. “I can walk you to your room, if that’s okay?”
I had no idea what I was doing. I had no business still being in this house. I had barely said a word directly to her the entire night, but when I met her gaze, that pull—that gravity—was very much intact. Her cheeks turned the color of the last sip of wine in her glass. She wore a dusty lavender dress that made her dark hair and eyes pop. She’d paired it with a knitted cardigan, the look feminine and soft. It wasn’t her normal attire, but I liked it. The dress was just short enough to show a peek of thigh when she crossed her legs.
“You don’t have to,” she murmured, setting down her glass.
It was only her second one of the night, so I didn’t think it had anything to do with the blush warming her skin.
She glanced at the stairs, nervously bouncing one knee.
I stood, crossing to her in a few strides. I reached for her hand. “Come on,” I said softly. “Let me walk with you.”
Her eyes were wide as she stared up at me, but she didn’t argue as I gently tugged her to her feet.
I didn’t let go of her hand as we walked to the grand staircase. On the way to her room, we passed some of Thea’s photography that my mother displayed proudly in the upstairs hallway. Thea had a passion for the art, and was doing it as part of her college degree. If she’d beenhere tonight, I knew she’d have loved listening to Skye’s stories about her job.
My hand tightened around Skye’s as we came upon her room. We stood there for a beat, staring at the closed door like neither of us remembered how to open one.
“Thank you,” Skye whispered.
I wasn’t sure what she was thanking me for, but I nodded anyway.
Slowly, as if moving through sand, she unlocked the door and pushed it open. Still, she didn’t move from my side. I held tight to her other hand, dreading the moment when I’d have to let go.
Then, she hastily stepped inside, yanking her hand away.
“Goodnight,” she said, voice tight and strained.
I caught the briefest glimpse of tears.
My chest tightened. She tried to close the door on me, but I blocked it with my foot on instinct. “Hey.” I stepped closer. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, turning away.
I wedged myself between the door, pulse rising. “Talk to me,” I begged. If she was having another panic attack, I couldn’t leave her alone.
Shaking her head again, she reluctantly met my gaze. Tears streaked down her cheeks, fueling that fear pumping through me.
“Are you—” I stumbled on my words, trying to be mindful of her feelings, but also needing to make sure. “I mean, I want to make sure you’re okay being alone right now.”
She blinked at me, understanding sparking. She wiped at her face with the sleeve of her cardigan. “I’m—I’m fine. It’s just…” Her voice cracked. “I forgot what it was like.”
“Forgot what was like?” I asked gently.
