Painting Sky (47 page)
I stood, frozen to the ground. I thought my father had given me space to sort my thoughts out. Maybe he’d just played dirty. I wasn’t going to forgive him any time soon.
“Leave,” I whispered, not meeting his eyes. After not hearing any movement, I yelled, “Leave! You’re his best friend! You are supposed to protect him and be there for him! What kind of person does this?” I gestured to Keith, who was leaning over and wincing in pain, with blood pouring from his nose and lip. “You’re a judgmental ass, just like Dad. You’re not going to play me around, anymore. Just leave.”
My brother looked defeated, and, for a second, I felt guilty for lashing out. It just took another glace at Keith to push the guilt away, though.
People-pleaser Jane was dead. She had died in that warehouse.
“Be like that. When he fucks with you, don’t say I didn’t warn you—that we all didn’t warn you.” He left, slamming the door and making me flinch. I remembered Keith was in need of assistance, and I rushed to his side.
“Come on, let’s get you upstairs.” My own stomach was throbbing, but I needed to take care of Keith, first. As soon as we got to his room, he fell to the bed, gasping, and hugging his torso.
“Do you think you broke a rib?” I asked, fearful.
He shook his head and fell back. “I’m going to get something to clean your cut.” Before he could protest, I went into his bathroom to get the first aid kit he’d used months before to patch my forehead.
While I tended to his wounds, we kept silent, just staring into each other’s eyes. I had no idea what he was going to say, but tell me to leave wouldn’t be part of it, from the vibe pouring from him.
His fingers traced my skin from my elbows, up, and then down the sides of my body. The cotton in my hand was soon forgotten. I placed the first aid kit on the floor, next to the bed, and unbuttoned his shirt, which he shrugged from his shoulders. My eyes went to his shoulder, first. The skin was red and a bit swollen. I didn’t think he was taking care of it properly. I had gotten my stitches removed a couple of days ago, but the aftercare was still important.
I gave him a weak smile. “It destroyed the dragon’s eye.” The skin had been pulled, so the tattoo was slightly deformed.
“I’ll beg Fred to fix it when the skin’s healed.” He rubbed my chin. I quickly grabbed his hand in mine, turning his finger to me.
He had an anchor exactly like mine. My eyes shot up to meet his. I then looked to his finger and back up again.
“How? Why?”
He didn’t need to answer me. It was there, in his eyes: he loved me. I’d seen it in the art gallery, in every painting and every stroke. Every time his gaze fell upon me, I felt it.
I jumped forward and met his bruised lips carelessly, but he didn’t seem bothered by it, because he pulled me closer and tugged my jacket from my shoulders. The house was cold and a shiver ran up my spine, but it was soon forgotten, thanks to Keith’s warm hands. He ran them up and down my bare shoulders, and unzipped my dress.
We had come so far and my life had changed irreversibly. I didn’t regret one thing—well, except for the part when I’d almost died. I would get past that, though, if Keith stayed by my side and fought my nightmares with me.
We made love, gazing into each other’s eyes. I still felt like he was saying goodbye and I wanted to stay cradled in his arms for the rest of my life.
“Don’t leave me,” I whispered to the quiet room as I sunk my fingers into his flesh.
We intertwined our hands, and both of our tattoos came together. He began, “I tried. I can’t. You came into my life when you were just a child, and I fell in love with you at that moment, as sick as that sounds. I knew then that you were it for me. I was older than you, though, and my childhood was long gone. When you befriended Cody and started spending all of your time with him, I knew I couldn’t compete.” Keith paused, just to breathe into my hair and pull me closer.
“You started dating him and I couldn’t get away from you. When my pops needed me here, I saw that as an opportunity to stay away. I didn’t expect to lose him like I did, and to feel so crushed by that loss.”
I lifted myself on my elbow, careful to not push my body any further than I already had. I kissed him softly, wincing at the bruise forming on his eye.
“You’re my world. You take away the pain and darkness he inflicted all those years ago and replace them with hope and light. I don’t want to taint you.” I started shaking my head, but he placed his finger over my lips. “But I can’t stay away from you. I can’t breathe without you here, in my arms, knowing if you’re smiling, or if someone is hurting you. You heal all my scars. You are the reason I stayed sane—it wasn’t just Ryan.” Keith pulled himself up, grimacing at the pain he must have been feeling in his torso and shoulder. “You are my Sky.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. What could I say that compared to that? “And you are my ground. You made me realize I have a place in the world, and that I’m not just an embellishment for everyone to toss around and show of. You made me realize I have flaws and other qualities beyond the good girl—the people-pleaser. You see me.”
“I’ve wanted to break your walls down for a long time, and feel ashamed I didn’t realize how lost you were growing up—how much we needed each other. I can’t breathe without you, either. Let me stay.” I whispered the last sentence, touching his forehead with mine.
“I couldn’t let you go, even if I tried. It will be hell making our families understand us. Are you up for the challenge?” Keith asked.
“With you by my side? Of course.” A sad smile played on my lips, thinking about the hatred my brother showed today.
Keith sensed my apprehension. “Ryan likes to pretend he’s the king of the world but he’ll come around, you’ll see, let him fall in love and he’ll understand how much I love you.”
“Say that again,” I asked, already beaming.
“I love you.” He smirked at me and leaned in for a deeper kiss.
“I love you,” I replied between kisses.
Published by Rita Branches
Copyright @ Rita Oliveira 2016
Rita Oliveira writing as Rita Branches has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this book.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-989-99562-0-9
Front cover by Rui Oliveira
Editing by Mikaela Pederson, A-step-up-editing
Interior design and formatting by E.M. Tippetts Book Designs.
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