I grabbed her hand and forced her into a twirl. It took a verse and chorus, but soon we danced energetically around the room, shouting the lyrics at each other.
When the song ended, we collapsed on the couch laughing, and I felt some uneasiness shift off my chest. Rolling my head to the side, I smiled at Skye.
Her return smile was filled with love, but still a lot of melancholy.
“I think I’m going to see if I can get time off work,” she said, her voice soft in the now-quiet room. “I need a real break. I’ve always wanted to go back to Monterey after we shot there during season four of The Sorcerer. Maybe I could rent a place for a few weeks. I was even”—she shot me an embarrassed grin—“thinking I could try screenwriting.”
Excited that Skye was talking about things that would give her focus and direction, I nodded eagerly. “That sounds amazing.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course. You can do anything you put your mind to.”
She patted my knee. “Thanks, kid.”
“What are your plans today?”
“You got time to grab some lunch?”
“Absolutely.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon in town, eating out and window shopping. I texted Jamie that everything was good and wished him luck at his meet. I sent him a snap of me and Skye trying on ridiculous hats. He replied with three words: “I love you.”
Skye saw and rolled her eyes. “Sometimes, I can’t even believe Jamie is the same person when he’s around you. You know,” she said, sighing a little shakily, “I used to worry that you guys were a little too intense. But now I envy you.” She squeezed my hand. “What you two have is miraculous. Never let go of it.”
“I have no intention of letting go,” I promised.
By the time we returned home, it was evening, and Skye looked exhausted. I knew she was having a harder time than she let on, so when she excused herself for an early night, I understood. I curled up on the sofa with my laptop and worked on my paper.
Sunlight bursting through the windows woke me the next morning. I realized I’d fallen asleep on the couch. After I showered, I decided to see if Skye was awake and whether she wanted breakfast. I wasn’t the best cook, but I was getting better, and I wanted this weekend to be a good one for my pseudo-big sister.
I could bring her a little breakfast in bed if it would cheer her up.
There was no reply when I knocked on her door, so I pushed it open and called out her name.
Seeing her lying above the duvet in the dim light of the room, my pulse raced.
“Skye?”
No response.
“Skye.” I was a little louder.
Not even a twitch.
I searched for the light switch and heard it click a millisecond before light flooded the room.
Skye was sprawled across the top of the bed, her arm dangling over the side.
There was something unnervingly still about her.
Fear climbed up my legs, making my knees shake. “Skye?”
Somehow, I forced myself to come unstuck from the door, and I almost stumbled into the bed as I neared it. My attention caught on the pill bottle by her bedside table before returning to her.
Her chest wasn’t moving.
“Skye?” I grabbed her, the fear now terror as I felt how cold she was. How stiff. I sobbed. “Skye!” I cried, shaking her.
But she wouldn’t wake up.
She wouldn’t wake up!
“SKYE!”
“Ms. Doe,” the police officer’s voice brought me back into the hospital corridor. “Would you like us to make the call for you?”
I shook my head. It hurt to move it. “No.”
I fumbled with the phone in my hand and swiped the edge of the screen for my speed-dial numbers.
What did I tell him?
“I don’t know what to tell him,” I muttered under my breath.
It wasn’t deliberate.
I knew that. I knew that, even though we wouldn’t get the coroner’s report for days.
She’d been making plans for her future. It wasn’t deliberate.
Jamie picked up on the fourth ring. “Hey, Doe, I’m just about to race, can I call you back?”
“Jamie.” His name came out on a sob.
He was silent a moment, then his voice was frantic as he asked me what was wrong.
“You need to come home,” I cried. “Jamie, you need to come home.”
“You’re scaring the shit out of me. What’s going on?”
I took in a shuddering breath that caused something to rattle audibly from inside me. “Skye … I’m so sorry. Baby, Skye is gone. She … she died,