Page 25 of Downfall

Her pain is my pain too.

My breathing slows as I relax against her, but I can feel her heart beating wildly through the hand I have splayed across her chest.

“Sky, I said we’d talk tomorrow,” I mumble into the pillow.

“I didn’t say anything,” she protests.

“I can hear you thinking.”

She lets out a soft giggle. “I’m sorry.”

I can feel her regret the words the second she turns over to face me, my hand cool against her flaming cheek. “You know the rules, Firefly.”

She huffs, but I don’t let up, my eyes locked on hers.

“I’m not sorry that I helped Lara ace her summer school quiz today.” She counts off on her fingers as she goes. “I’m not sorry I volunteered at the food pantry. I’m not sorry I went to the coffee shop with my mom and had two cinnamon strudel muffins and a caramel frappe.”

Three things she’s not sorry for.

I started making her do this when I noticed how much she apologized. Sometimes it felt like she was sorry for simply existing, and that didn't sit right with me.

“Good.” I go to place another kiss on her forehead, but she starts to sit up at the same time, and I end up catching the side of her lip.

A faint flush works its way up her cheeks. “Oh, I’m so⁠—”

“You sure you want to finish that sentence?” I warn, and then I lean down and brush my lips against hers. It’s a barely-there kiss. One that she probably won’t even remember in the grand scheme of life, but it makes my stomach flip. Which is crazy because this doesn’t come close to the things I normally do with girls. It’s so much better. I wish I could have been her first kiss, but my prick of a best friend, Ash, had to steal that from me. He claimed he thought he had feelings for her and only realized he didn’t when they kissed. Doesn’t matter. I kicked that fucker’s ass into next week.

I glance at the cloud-shaped clock on Skylar’s nightstand. It must be new. Her mom is always buying her these little whimsical knick-knacks for her room.

It’s two twenty-six.

“Go to sleep, Firefly, before I give you something to be sorry about.” My words are stern, but my tone is soft and teasing. The irony is that I’m an asshole to almost everyone else in my life.

But not to her.

Never her.

A quiet laugh escapes her lips as she wiggles her butt deeper into the blankets. I wrap my arm around her, soaking up her warmth.

“Hey, Dec?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m not sorry I met you.”

My heart stutters, but I don’t.

“I know, Firefly.” I brush my nose against her hair, inhaling the green apple scent of her shampoo. “I know.”

“Declan.” Once again, her voice pulls me from the memory. It’s impossible not to think about when everything about her reminds me of the past. “Say something.”

“About what?

“What I just said.”

“Your birthday. You get the trust on your birthday.”

“No, after that.”