However Long the Night

Chapter Eighteen

Will didn't hear from Skye for two days. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he saw were tear-streaked cheeks and trembling hands. Confusion clung to him like an existential sweater as he tried to make sense of his tangled feelings. Should he be relieved to get some distance from Skye's complicated mess? Or, should he say screw it and go to her? He didn't know, so he did nothing at all.

When the next evening rolled around, his parents went to a movie for the first time since his dad's heart attack, and Will found himself watching their car drive away until it was a small black speck in the distance. He took a shower to clear his head, sprawled on the couch for a while, and considered raiding the fridge when he heard a soft knock at the door. There, finally, was Skye, standing on the front porch with her dark hair loose, an orange popsicle in hand.

"Sorry I went MIA," she said quietly, offering the frozen treat like an olive branch. Will took it, broke it in two, and handed her the other half. When their hands touched, something inside his chest let go.

"It's okay, Skye. You don't have to apologize." Toby was nosing at the back of his knees, trying to push his way out toward her. Will eased him back into the house and closed the door, motioning for Skye to sit beside him on the top step. Reaching out to grab her hand, he sighed as she placed her head on his shoulder. For a few minutes, they sat eating their ice pops in silence on the porch.

"Wanna come inside for a bit?" He took her orange-stained wooden stick and placed it on top of his. "Mom and Dad are at the movies, so it's just me and Toby here."

"That would be nice." With a shy smile, she followed him into the house.

Grabbing some iced tea from the kitchen, he found Skye in the back living room staring at his mom's garden through the French doors. Her face was serene, but her hands were clasped tight against her stomach.

"Whatcha thinking about, Stormy?" He looked at her quizzically as he set their drinks down on the coffee table.

"Honestly?" Her 1 shone silver as she caught his eye.

"Yeah, honestly."

"Don't laugh, okay?" Her expression was hopeful, like she was about to share a secret.

"I'd never laugh at you, Skye. I mean, not unless we were joking around, of course. C'mon, what's up?"

Taking a deep breath, she spoke fast, like she had to get the words out before she lost her nerve. "Okay, so I'm pretty sure this is gonna sound ridiculous when I say it out loud, but here goes: I was thinking ... that maybe, I might be a little cursed." She closed her eyes, cringing at the admission.

Will's lips twitched. "Hm. Can you be a little cursed? I mean, just saying. Being cursed seems like an all or nothing type of thing to me." Walking over to her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and bent his head down so their eyes were parallel. He was close enough to see the freckles on the bridge of her nose, and he reached out to smooth her hair.

"You said you wouldn't tease me. I know it sounds dumb," she said, wincing in embarrassment.

He hadn't meant to upset her. "I'm sorry. I was just trying to cheer you up. Nothing you say sounds dumb, okay? I'm listening. Now tell me what's going on in here." He tapped the side of her head softly with his finger and waited for her to respond.

Looking into his eyes, her 1 shifted from silver to cloudy grey as her gaze turned serious.

"The last few days have been like a bad dream. Somehow, I can't stop thinking – what could I have done to deserve all this? I mean, looking back, my dad was everything to Mom and me, but he was taken away when I was small." Placing her forehead on Will's chest, she sighed, and her voice came out quieter than before. "When Tom came along, I thought maybe he'd ... well, not replace my dad exactly, but maybe he'd help fill the hole that Dad left when he died, you know? But now he's batshit crazy, and we can't get rid of him. I mean, what the hell, Will? How did this end up being my life?"