Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(33)

Cling to the rock until the storm sweeps past, the wind sings through the air.

My father was my rock. My shelter. Warm arms that wrapped around me, shielding me from the tempests of my mother’s ever-shifting moods. The only place I felt truly safe.

Please keep me safe now, Dad.

I don’t dare say the wish out loud—but I think it all the same. And the silly fantasy feels more real than any promise my mother made for my protection.

But he’s not here.

She is.

I have to trust her.

I have to trust myself.

So I surrender to sleep, ready to recharge. Ready for the sweet dreams the song always brings, filled with memories of my father.

Instead, I dream of Vane. And the dream is anything but sweet.





CHAPTER 17


VANE


I emerge from the bathroom to the aroma of eggs and salty breakfast meat, and a burrito the size of a football waits for me at the kitchen table. Before I can stop myself, I rush to the couch and wrap my arms around my mom from behind.

“Whoa, what’s that for?” she asks, laughing.

“Breakfast.” It isn’t just because of that—but she doesn’t need to know I might only have eight days left with her.

Maybe eight days left to live.

I pull away before she can feel that I’m shaking.

“Well, it’s nearly lunchtime. I was half an hour from dragging your lazy butt out of bed when I heard the shower start.”

“I know. Guess I was tired.”

She must catch my hesitation because she spins around to study my face. I can almost feel her noticing my dark circles, wondering why I don’t look more rested. “You okay?”

I’m . . . not sure.

“Yeah, just starving.” My stomach growls for emphasis and my mom laughs.

“Better eat while it’s hot, then.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I run across the room, practically drooling when I get a closer look at the burrito-y goodness. Bacon, eggs, avocado, and Tater Tots all smothered in pepperjack cheese and doused with hot sauce before getting wrapped in a gigantic tortilla and grilled on the stove. My dad calls it “the torpedo.”

They’re life-changingly good, and after a hard morning of training on an empty stomach, the first bite is pretty much the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Isaac used to claim his mom’s homemade chorizo and egg burrito was better, but then he had a torpedo and was forever converted. Nothing tops it.

I finish the whole thing in five minutes flat, and even though it probably contained enough food to feed a small country, I want another. But hey, who knows how many more I’ll get to have?

My appetite dies with the depressing thought.

I have to get a grip.

I thank my mom for breakfast and duck back to my room, glad she doesn’t ask any more questions. I check the lock on my window—not that it seems capable of keeping Audra out—close the drapes, and collapse on my bed.

Next thing I know, the clock on my nightstand says it’s after four and my mom’s pounding on my door.

“Vane, phone.”

My door opens, and I squint through a triangle of sunlight that creeps across my face.

“You were sleeping?” my mom asks, her face falling into a frown. “I thought you were in here playing games or something.”

I pull myself up, still trying to gather my bearings. “I was tired.”

She scans my room as she hands me the phone, like she’s searching for the drugs I must be taking to cause my fatigue—not that I’ve ever messed with that stuff. I can’t even take a freaking aspirin.

“It’s Isaac,” she tells me.

I run my hand over my wild bed hair, trying to smooth it down before I press the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“What the hell, man?” Isaac practically shouts on the other end. “First you crap out on Hannah hours before curfew, then you shut your phone off and ignore my calls all day? Don’t tell me the date was that bad.”

“Sorry, I forgot I turned my phone off. The date was fine.”

“Uh-huh. That’s not what I hear.”

“Why? What did Hannah say?” I hear the worry in my voice at the same time I realize my mom’s conveniently forgotten to leave me alone. I give her my Do you mind? look and she reluctantly closes my door behind her.

Isaac laughs. “Nothing, man. She just said she’d be in her room and left us alone. But it sounds like something happened. What’d you do this time? Don’t tell me you laid one in the middle of the date again.”

“No! And I told you that wasn’t me.”

“That’s not what Lauren told Shels. She said you guys were at the Date Festival and you must’ve eaten too many tamales or something ’cause you ripped one so loud it turned heads. Which usually I’d applaud you for, but, dude—not when you’re trying to make your move. She said it was right after you tried to hold her hand. Not the best timing, man.”

Freaking girls have to tell each other everything. “Lauren was just lying to cover up the fact that she farted.”

“Yeah, ’cause girls do that. Dude, I’ve been dating Shels for almost a year and she still hasn’t farted around me—even when my mom stuffs her full of beans and molé. But just take some Pepto before we leave tonight and you’ll be fine.”