Then it dawns on me that he’s trembling too, and fighting for breath, and I like that I’ve made him that way.
No. I love it.
I lovehim.
And I don’t even miss the cigarettes.
Morning comes too soon, and not soon enough. I love lying with Skylar in the dark, just listening to him breathe. But waking up to him still sleeping beside me is a new kind of perfection I didn’t know existed.
He’s naked, and his bare back calls to me. I trace a skull tattoo with my fingertip. He shivers in his sleep and I’m entranced, but the flash of my phone puts a halt to wherever I think I’m going with this.
Folk:It’ll be tonight
Fuck. I’d forgotten about that.
“What is it?”
I turn my head. Skylar’s awake, pillow lines on his face, fixing me with a stare that sees me down to my DNA. “Saint’s coming tonight.”
Understanding flares in his eyes. Then he’s sleepy again and flops back down. “You’d better tell Jack.”
“Now?”
“Hmm.”
He’s asleep, or trying to be, and it’s so tempting to press my face between his shoulder blades and do the same. But I need to tell Jack it’s D-Day, and love for my brother rolls me out of bed.
It’s still dark outside, but it’s not that early. Autumn is fading and winter is closing in. The sky is damp all the time and the ocean is a deep, moody blue. On the horizon, I see theSironaheading in. Which tells me Jack’s awake. He never sleeps past dawn if Sol isn’t here, and fuck if I don’t know how that feels.
They’re not together.
Jack and Sol.
Sol and Jack.
I’ve been here six months and I still don’t know why.
They live for each other.
Always have.
I smell bacon and track my brother to the kitchen. Three grey dogs haunt his feet, from pewter to light silver. Fiadh and her pups, except they’re not pups anymore. “Saint’s coming tonight.”
Jack turns around. He’s been up a while, but it takes him longer than Skylar to put it together. To realise what it means. Then he just nods. “You want to eat before we go?”
Right.
Because I really don’t get to spend all day in bed with Skylar, and whatever’s coming my way, I know I’ll handle it better with food in my belly.
Still, though, my focus strays from my brother and back the way I’ve come. To where Skylar sleeps, unfed since the toast he ate for my benefit when he came home last night.
He does that sometimes. Eats when he’s not hungry to settle me. It’s not necessary, but I don’t stop him. I’ve come to learn the best way I can help him is to stay quiet. To just be there with the kind of love that disarms shame, and respect every choice he makes. Even the one not to seek treatment for the undefined eating disorder that’s dominated his entire fucking life.
“I’m not a soldier, Mal. There’s no safe place for me to bare my soul to a fucking therapist.”
I accept the plate Jack passes me. Eat half of it and take the rest back to bed.
Skylar’s already up. He comes back from the bathroom and eats before he can think about it too hard. Then he shares a moment with the dogs he’s been so bemused to live with for the past few months and goes to work, and I’m left with hollow space in my chest until he comes home.
