by Lisa Swallow
“And you need to hold onto who you are too,” he says and kisses my hair. My heart warms at his reading my thoughts.
“But I don’t know who she is,” I whisper and rest my head on his shoulder.
“We’ll find her again. My summer Sky will be bigger and brighter than ever, and the world needs to watch out.”
I want to believe him, I really do, but right now, I can only cope with taking a day at a time as I search for her. Dylan’s our cornerstone, stopping me crumbling into a total mess, and in time, we’ll be equal again.
32
MAY
SKY
Tara’s barely through the door before she squeals and scoops Rhys from my arms, squeezing him to her, and showering his head with kisses. He grabs a fistful of her long brown hair and tugs.
“I’ve missed you, Rhys! I can’t wait to spend my weekend with my favourite little guy.”
“I bet you won’t be saying that after a couple of days,” I reply. “He has another tooth coming I think.”
Tara rubs his red cheek. “I’ve babysat for my sister loads. I can deal with him.”
Rhys is all smiles for Tara, babbling as he touches her face. As he grows, his cuteness factor hits overload. He’s replaced his dad as the one the press try to take shots of, bonus points for them if doting Dylan carries him.
I stroke my son’s hair. “Is Tom not coming?”
Tara’s face darkens for a moment, and then she switches to looking at the table and my notepad. “Did you leave me a list? Or do you trust my instincts now?”
“Tara?” I ask. “What happened?”
Dylan appears from the opposite end of the apartment and saves her from answering. “Hey, Tara. Was the drive over okay?”
“You packed your things yet?” I ask him.
“Not like I need much for a weekend in Cornwall.” I pull him a warning face. “Yes, Sky, I packed my shit.”
Tara sighs loudly. “He’s so romantic taking you back there. Right, when’s his next feed due?”
The model of efficiency, Tara heads into the kitchen, still cooing over Rhys and I follow. “Are you sure about this?” I ask her.
“We’ll be fine. Honestly. I’m happy to stay in the house with him if you’re nervous about me taking him out.”
I give her a weak smile. “A big ask, locking you in our house with a five-month-old baby.”
“Uh. Your huge, country estate? I think I can cope!”
Smart Dylan dropped the news on me a couple of days ago: a trip to the cottage in Cornwall. He’d already cleared with Tara for her to look after Rhys for the weekend, and I battle between craving alone time with Dylan and panicking whether Rhys will be okay.
My nerves around leaving Rhys with Tara grow as the days pass, and now she’s here, my time’s up. After our early days, the fact I’m worried about being away from my baby is a good sign to Dylan, and admittedly to me too.
I now keep busy helping Dylan with the lead up to his release. I wouldn’t go as far as to say manager, but I’m heading that way much to the amusement of the other band members. They’re still cool with what he’s doing, which is one less stress for us.
Dylan made the decision to spend a weekend in Cornwall before the chaos hits. Two weeks until the release, and until he begins a press and TV circuit. Dylan grumbled about my military precise organisation of interviews and TV appearances, but he should know by now promotion is the nature of the beast. There’ll be extra exposure for us to deal with, which equals us back in the spotlight. Hopefully the focus will be Dylan’s music.
I’m about to ask Tara what’s wrong between her and Tom, but Dylan manages to walk in before I do and save her from my interrogation. Again. He slides an arm around my waist. “Ready?”
“I guess….”
“Don’t stress, Sky. We’ll be fine. Call me every hour if you need.” Tara pauses. “Maybe not in the middle of the night though.”
“That’s Dylan’s style, not mine,” I say, and he nudges me with his elbow.
I walk away from my baby for the first time in four and half months, an avalanche of thoughts and emotions following me. This is the right thing for me to do for our marriage. For Dylan.
We’ve visited the small cottage in Cornwall a few times since we first met, normally when there’re more interesting things than us happening in the celebrity world and we can stay under the radar. The odd photograph always appears, and always will.
We last stayed here on the anniversary of the day we met, when the pregnancy was still new. May isn’t the best time to come here, but the right time for us. This time as we drive along the narrow lane, nerves accompany me as I add more pressure to myself to be what Dylan needs. I want to, but I’m scared I can’t rewind to the person I was then.
Dylan leaves me in the car as he takes our bags inside, and I sit in the car fighting tears as I look around at the familiar dunes, the peeling paint on the chairs outside, and the house I associate with happy times. Everything feels unfamiliar.
“You coming in, Sky?” asks Dylan as he opens the passenger door.
I swallow as the wind invades the car and nod. Dylan steps back, but the moment I climb out, he hugs me close. “He’ll be fine.”
“I know,” I whisper.
I step into the cool house, and I’m hit with a wave larger than any in the nearby sea. Nothing changes here. Ever. I could be walking back in on the first day, the neat lounge room with the dilapidated sofa I slept on and snuggled with Dylan on. The dated kitchen where, well… that.
Everything hits. What could’ve been. Fate. Us. My life changing forever in a blink with a man who shared my past. I sink onto the sofa and silent tears track my face as the beauty of the life I lead swells inside.
“Shit. Did I do the wrong thing?” Dylan looks down at me, raking a hand through his hair, lips pursed in concern. “We can go home. It’s okay.”
I shake my head. “No.” My voice thick, I look up at Dylan, the man who’s somehow split himself between the two people who need him, and survived himself. The lines around his eyes and exhaustion in his pale face betray the stress he’s under too, and I’m happy I force him to hold onto his plans and escape the pressures at home. On those days, he returns energised from his days and channels his love into us too.
“We should take a walk,” I say. “I mean, I’d like to.”
Waves lap the empty beach. I’m not brave enough to take my shoes off and experience the freezing water and veer around, and for once Dylan keeps his distance from the water as we walk hand in hand. The seagulls cry above, the sea’s turmoil the only other sound, apart from the wind rushing into my ears. I pull up my coat hood against the cold.
I lead Dylan along the beach until we reach the place we first sat to eat fish and chips on the beach, sheltered behind the dune, another of our traditions when we visit Broadbeach.
This is where I need to be right now.
I turn to Dylan, tiptoe to place my mouth on his cool lips, and we stay a moment, mouths pressed together, reconnecting. Closing my eyes, I open my senses to the familiar: him. I have more love in my heart for Dylan than I can contain, the heart his own love wraps around and protects.
I push fingers into the hair brushing his neck, and search for this Dylan and Sky with a kiss. His mouth moves as gently as the hands encircling my waist, and we kiss as if this is the first time, as if this first moment never left us.
My recent doubts Dylan could still love somebody who rejects him through her unhappiness carry away on the breeze. We’re anchored together against the tides pulling at us, surviving as our souls grip each other tight. This was always meant to be and will never end. Our hearts understand each other even with the recent silence between them.
“I love you.” I hold his face, tracing my fingers along his rough cheeks, lips, skin, wanting to absorb the love in his eyes.
“I love you, summer Sky,” he whispers and takes my fingers to kiss them.
I tip my head back, eyes clo
sed, and breathe the ozone—the freedom that attracted us both almost three years ago—and allow the wind to blow down my hood and play through my hair.
“This is where I need to be, right now,” I say to the clouds racing across the sky. “Here, with you.” I hold Dylan tighter. “I’ve come home. She’s here.”
The sun shone hot and heavy on us the last time we stood together on a beach, vows spoken in front of others. This time there’s nobody but us, and this is how things should be.
He rests his forehead on mine. “I’m happy to see her again.”
I tug Dylan by the hand and we run, feet thudding across the damp sand, back to the cottage. He lets my hand go as he passes; I’ll never win a race against Dylan. Close to the cottage, Dylan stops, and walks backwards smiling, cheeks reddened.
“So, we gonna snuggle?” he asks and raises his brows.
I laugh and attempt to charge past him, but he catches me around the waist and tips me over his shoulder and bursts through the door.
“I told you all the way back then how freeing this place is.” He dumps me on the sofa, and I pull him onto me.
“Freeing? I’ve been tied to you since the day we met here.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” I whisper.
DYLAN
Once, we came here separately to escape differing lives we struggled with, but never knew what lay in front of us. Naively I believed our love would conquer anything, would never drag us down, but our fight had only just begun.
We lost our way. I lost Sky; I couldn’t see into her soul anymore and avoided looking into her pain. Perhaps I hid from her too because I couldn’t stand to watch her struggle and feel helpless myself.
But now, she’s Sky again. We’re back in our bubble away from the world if only for a short time. Can we bring some of this safety home with us?
If I close my eyes I could be back there again. The soft curves beneath my hands, her scent mingled with those of my childhood. I place my lips on Sky’s and she sighs into me, digging her hands into the back of my hair.
“I love you,” I whisper.
She doesn’t reply, but presses her mouth harder against mine, urging me to kiss her properly – the type of kiss we rarely shared recently. Consuming, mind-blowing and a vow to each other as our breath mingles.
All I want now is Sky. I want her back, to possess every inch of her, to watch her fall apart in my arms as I love her. Worship her. Sky needs to know our worlds still travel in the same orbit; that the man from the sea has never let go of his summer Sky. The woman looking back at me as I envelop her in my arms completes me again.
She greets me with a laugh when I head upstairs and return dragging the seashell covered duvet after me. She still sits on the sofa, legs curled beneath her. “No DVDs this time,” she says as I approach.
“Oh?”
Her mouth lifts into a smile and she tugs me towards her by the shirt. “And no stopping either.”
I don’t need anymore prompting, pushing her back against the arm of the sofa. She wraps a leg around mine, dragging me closer, holding my face in both hands as we meet with an urgency I haven’t felt since the time we reunited after our first time apart.
One touch of her skin, one small noise of pleasure and I’m overwhelmed by more than love. I let go of all control I’ve held around Sky recently and her clothes are on the floor in seconds. She helps as I struggle out of mine, shaking with the need thundering through my body. Sky responds with the same ferocity, her hands gripping my shoulders as I lavish attention on every inch of her skin. I flick her hardened nipple with my tongue, running my fingers down her belly, and kiss each place my fingers rested.
I stop, rest my head against her, and inhale. Sky’s scent drives me to the edge of control, to the border between showing my love and lust I hold for the woman I need more now than ever before.
In understanding, Sky runs her fingers through my hair, as we stay in a calm moment before the storm rushing towards us. The deluge hits and we’re pulled into the passion; we touch each other, rediscovering what drives us towards pleasure after months lost. I recognise the soft sounds, the way Sky yields, letting go of the control she’s held, and she enjoys my responses too.
I grab Sky’s ass, pressing her to me, and as my cock brushes her heating skin I’m ready to lose my mind completely. She can hardly move beneath me, and I’m not letting her go. Not now, not today, not ever. I lift my weight from her and look down, wiping hair from her face.
Eyes fixed on hers, I part her legs with my knee and slide a hand along her thigh, barely-there touches, and pause with my fingers close to the heat between her legs. With one gentle finger, I stroke her, hardening further at how slick she is, at the way her mouth parts and breathing speeds.
She urges me on, reaching for me, and I position myself against her, shaking as the storm rolls in and engulfs. She tips her head back, eyes closing as I thrust into her.
“Look at me,” I say. “I need to see you.”
Sky’s eyes open, heavy with emotion the way they were on the beach earlier, and we move together, urgent, holding onto each other as if we leave this moment we’d lose everything again. The world can go to hell, because this is all I need: to be looked at with utter devotion from the woman who makes my heart sing. The one who completes me as we become one soul, one body, with a love so fucking huge it can protect us from all the crap thrown at us.
She clutches onto my back, tightening around me, grasping to hold on as she falls into pieces beneath my hands. I can’t hold back, the way she arches towards me breathless, murmuring my name drives me closer as I push into her. Shuddering into my own release, I grip her hands as I shout out my love for her. She arches against me again, clinging, joining me in the stars where the pieces of our souls were torn apart long ago, where we find each other again.
I rest my forehead on Sky’s, our mouths hovering close, her soft breath coming quickly against mine. A tear escapes and she brushes it away with the back of her hand, frowning at herself. But I understand. This released more than her love, it also pushed out some of her pain now falling across her cheeks.
“I love you, Dylan,” she says, voice thick.
“Don’t cry. I hate making you cry,” I whisper.
“I don’t know why I am, I’m the happiest I’ve been for months.” She touches my mouth and I kiss her fingers.
“Same.”
Time steps away and leaves us alone. Over the next two days, our whole world becomes us and the house. Two days lost in each other and the place we belong. Not here, not together, but the place fate took us to, stepped back and smiled that her job was done. Two people, reconnected, rediscovered and eternal.
33
SKY
Reliving the hours I’ve spent months attempting to hide from—and often failing—kill me. Lily’s trial, the beast looming over me and threatening to pull me back into the dark place is almost done. Months attempting to push the events into a dead recess in my mind disappeared as everything flooded back. Not only the events the day in the apartment, but her insidious behaviour for months before. I spent much time in denial when Dylan attempted to protect me those first few months, and hearing everything laid out in court, I should’ve acknowledged the danger she hinted at.
I’m unsure what’s worse: facing her again today or the fact all the details are now in the public arena, including Jem’s role. It’s a miracle we’ve hidden the events this long. I gave evidence attempting not to look at the pale-faced blonde girl sitting in the dock. I didn’t need to look. Her eyes burned my skin as I fought against breaking down. Does she want me to? Would that give her perverse pleasure?
Afterwards, I walk out shaking, straight into Dylan’s arms, who holds me tight preventing me shattering into pieces. I cry the tears I refused to shed in front of the girl who will forever taint my life through the memories, while Dylan stands in silence.
Apart from my appearance in the courtroom, I don’t w
atch the trial. I can’t. The only other person I want to see and speak to is Jem, who is called as a witness today. We haven’t spoken much since the day everything happened. The couple of times we met, Jem asked if I was okay, how the baby was, polite questions avoiding the topic. I still have no idea how the evening affected him, what thoughts and memories he has. Now we’re both confronted by this, and the day arrives we can no longer avoid.
I refuse to leave the court until I’m composed, unable to face the shouted questions from people hovering outside. Their intrusion the last couple of days made the whole situation worse, but what else did we expect? We’re escorted to a small room; the one Jem sits in as he avoids leaving too. I hate he’s subjected to public scrutiny again, that the world again dissects what happened. The amusement joining the press’s fascination annoys me. What’s funny about the nightmare we shared and have to come to terms with? About the effect it had on me?
Jem rests back in a chair, legs stretched in front, as he drinks coffee from a disposable cup. Face set hard, his eyes are distant, and I know why. He’s in the same place I am.
Each time I see Jem, he’s further away from the man I first met who threatened me, disliked me to the point of hatred. He looks odd in a suit jacket and trousers, dark shirt buttoned beneath. The tattoos spreading onto his wrists and long hair the only vestiges of rock star Jem. He’s travelled a long way since we first met and found the place he needs to be too. I also have no doubt that Dylan could’ve followed the same path and lost himself as well.
I always saw parts of each other in Dylan and Jem, no doubt responsible for some personality clashing along with their bond. I don’t think the soul mates idea only applies to couples, but can bring friendship to a different level too. I see this in the two men with me. What does that make Jem to me?