Sky
"Right." I laughed. "Flashes. Great."
"Sky… "
"Don't." I stood up so fast the chair scraped loud. "Just... don't."
He stood too, reaching for me again. "Hey, wait, talk to me. What's wrong?"
"Nothing." I grabbed my plate, dumped the rest in the trash even though I'd barely eaten. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're pissed."
"Wow, detective skills on point."
"Sky." His voice dropped, serious now. "Look at me."
I didn't. Kept rinsing my plate like it owed me .
He came up behind me, close but not touching. "I fucked up. I get it. I blacked out parts. That's on me. But last night meant something to me. Even if it's blurry, I know I didn't hurt you. Tell me what I missed so I can fix it."
I turned the water off, hands dripping. "You really think it's that simple? Say sorry, fix it, done?"
"No. But I'm asking. Please."
I spun around, water flicking off my fingers onto his chest. "You woke up this morning all sweet and cuddly and calling me baby like it was nothing. Like we do this every day. And then you sit there eating my fucking eggs and tell me you were too drunk to remember anything. Do you have any idea how that feels?"
His face crumpled. "Like shit. I feel like shit."
"Good." My voice cracked. "Because I feel like an idiot. I let you in… really in and you don't even remember the part where you claimed me like it mattered."
"It did matter." He stepped closer. "It does. Sky, look… I was drunk, yeah. But I wasn't blackout. I remember wanting you so bad it hurt. I remember you trusting me. I remember how fucking perfect it felt when you came around my knot. Even if the timeline's fuzzy, I remember that."
I laughed again, bitter. "Cool. Memory highlights. Real romantic."
He flinched. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
"Yeah." I pushed past him, grabbed my hoodie from the couch. "You should be."
"Where are you going?"
"Out. I need air."
"Sky….. "
"Don't." I yanked the door open. "Go to work. Solve crimes. Pretend you're good at remembering important shit."
He didn't follow. Just stood there, looking wrecked. "I'll call you later."
"Don't bother."
I slammed the door.
Outside, cold air hit my face like a slap. I walked fast, no direction, just moving. Heart hammering, throat tight, eyes stinging in that embarrassing way that meant I was two seconds from crying in public like a loser.
Why the hell was I this mad?
It was just sex.
Good sex. Great sex. Life-changing sex.
But he didn't remember.
And that tiny, stupid fact felt like a knife twist. Like I'd handed him everything my grief, my body, my stupid fragile trust and he'd misplaced half of it because whiskey.
I laughed out loud, right there on the sidewalk. A lady walking her dog gave me a wide berth.
Of course. Of course I'd fall this hard for someone who could forget the best night of my life.
Fucking hilarious.
I kept walking, pissed and hurt and laughing at myself the whole way, because if I didn't laugh I'd probably sit down on the curb and sob like a kid.
And nobody needed to see that.
Least of all me. One of the greatest killers to exist in history.