Breathe into Me (23 page)

“You’ve already been tremendously helpful. Thank you so much.” This time she did hug me, an awkward affair as if she wasn’t sure how a hug was done. I thought back to what both she and Everett had said, the cold and distant home life. Perhaps something as simple as a hug was foreign to her. I couldn’t imagine having rich parents, or being stuck in boarding schools most of the year. My life up until my stepfather died had been good, and only recently could I look back on it without feeling pain.

“I, uh, should probably get back to work.”

Skye stepped away as a couple walked past us. “I guess I’ll see you on Sunday,” she said, giving me a tiny smile, then walked away.

I blew out a breath and sat down on the couch, wondering what kind of mess I’d involved myself in. It felt as though I was always learning something new about Everett, but the story came in bits and pieces, incomplete. I knew there was more, something that for whatever reason they were keeping from me, and I wasn’t even sure whether I wanted to know.

I stood up and moved back toward my piano as a large group moved toward the exit. I noticed a familiar face rounding the corner. Frozen for a moment, I hurried after the smaller woman. “Mrs. Jones!”

My brother’s teacher turned at the sound of her name, and my heart fell when I saw her expression tighten when she saw me. Melinda Jones had never been anything but nice to me, but from her pinched look of distaste, she could barely stand the sight of me. I knew immediately that my grandmother had likely spread even more lies about me. It was almost enough to make me turn around and walk away.

Almost.

“Ms. St. James. I had no idea that you worked here.”

The apparent rest of that phrase,
Or I would never have come
, was left unsaid. Southern gentility prevented her from saying how she really felt, although it was written all over her face. I wiped my palms on my dress, suddenly nervous, and asked, “How is Davy doing?”

“He’s well, no thanks to your treatment.”

I flinched at her words, which confirmed my suspicions. “The last time we talked,” I said, keeping my voice low, “you said there was something suspicious going on.”

“Why are we having this conversation, Lacey?”

It was weird to see her closed-off face. Before, she’d always smile at me, her gentle but firm persona keeping the preschoolers in line. Having her disapproval aimed at me hurt, but I couldn’t back down. “Because I haven’t seen my little brother in over two weeks,” I said, “and I need to know he’s okay.”

The teacher’s eyebrows lowered. “Two weeks, you say?”

I nodded vigorously. “Not since my grandmother kicked me out of the house.”

She looked away, emotions warring on her face. “Lacey,” she said after a minute, “your little brother hasn’t been in my class all week.”

“What?”

“After I spoke with you, I talked to your grandmother as well a few days later. She promised to fix the situation—those were her exact words.”

And she had
. That was the same time I’d been thrown out.

“But last week, I noticed your brother was withdrawn and had more bruises on his arm. This time I brought it up with the supervisor who called in your mom. She claimed it was your fault, but I haven’t seen Davy since then. Technically, he’s still enrolled, just not attending.” She peered at me. “You really haven’t lived there in weeks?”

Sitting back down on the couch there, I drew in a shaky breath. The idea of running out of work and tracking down my brother was tempting. As was evidenced by his teacher’s reaction, however, everyone thought I was the abuser. What would I do when I had him then? Run to Mexico? Go into hiding? Every scenario I thought up was laughable, except one.

“I need to call someone,” I said, wanting to cry from the dread in my heart.

Melinda’s expression softened, and she laid a hand on my arm. “If you need me to help in any way, please don’t hesitate to ask.” She rummaged through her purse and handed me her card. “I’ll do whatever I can to help your brother.”

I nodded and walked away, looking for someplace private. Winding my way down the network of hallways, I finally found a small bench outside the main areas and sat down. With shaking hands, I pulled out my cell phone from my bag. The old numbers were still in my head from a childhood of talking on the phone with my grandparents. I pressed them into the phone and lifted it up to my ear, heart jerking crazily as it began to ring.

Someone answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

Aunt Jeanine
. I almost said her name. I hadn’t heard from any of my stepfather’s family in years, and yet the instant I heard that voice I was taken back to when I was a child. Questions ran through my head: Where were my grandparents? Why hadn’t they answered the phone?

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

I tried to speak, to say anything, but my throat closed up. Clutching the phone to my ear, I opened my mouth but nothing would come out. Emotion choked me, and I suddenly felt like crying. I needed help, but they were nearly a whole country away. Could they really do anything?

There came an exasperated grunt over the microphone, then the click as she hung up.

Dammit!
I punched in the numbers again quickly, but closed the clamshell before I could press Send. Doubt washed through me and I covered my eyes, trying to control my shaky breaths. It wasn’t my asthma that threatened to choke me this time but my own fear and weakness.
What do I do?

“Boys are so predictable.”

“Totally.”

I picked up the big twenty-four case of beer and hefted it inside the shopping cart. “How much more of this are we supposed to get?” I asked.

Clare smirked. “According to their list, we’ll need another cart.”

“Typical.” I stacked another case on top. “Enough for now. This should last them tonight at least. We’ll get more the day of the party.”

“You’re not going to have any?”

I shook my head. “Not much into alcohol these days.”

Clare nodded as we meandered through the beverage aisle at the supermarket. “What’s next?”

“Chips, dip, and hot dogs. Not the most original menu.”

“I’m sure by the third beer most won’t even care.” I glanced up at her. “Thanks for hanging out.”

“Admit it, you just wanted me for my ID card.”

“Well, I needed someone over twenty-one, but you were my first choice, honest.” I looked over at my friend. “So, you’re coming to the party this weekend, right? You never gave me a definite answer.”

“I’m pretty sure I work that day, but I might be able to come later that afternoon.”

“You’d better. I haven’t seen you much around the club since you moved to catering.”

We fell into an amicable silence heading back to the meat section. I eyed Clare for a moment, and then asked the question that was first and foremost on my brain. “How are you and Andrew doing?”

A small smile played across her lips. “Good, I think. He’s a nice guy. What about your boy?”

I shrugged. “We had our first big fight a few days ago. Things are better since then, it’s just …”

“Just what?”

“I worry about all the things I don’t know about him, what’s happened before we met and such.”

“What, do you think he’s a serial killer or something?”

That imagery startled a laugh out of me. “I’m pretty sure it isn’t that,” I said, then bit my lip. “I hope.”

“Well, it takes time to get to really know somebody. You can fall in love the minute you see a person, but that doesn’t mean…” She trailed off, lost in thought. “Sometimes you just know that person is for you, that they fit. You love even the rough edges, mistakes and all, because you just know they’re for you.”

I stared at Clare curiously. “Are we talking about Andrew here?”

The question seemed to surprise her out of her daydream, and she flushed. “He’s a nice guy,” she repeated, checking out the items on the opposite aisle so I couldn’t see her face.

“You just said that—”

“Well, look who decided to show her face in public.”

I froze at the familiar female voice, and turned to see two of my exes standing behind me. Ashley was tucked up under Macon’s arm, her expression a mixture of triumph and scorn. Macon, ever the golden boy, seemed perfectly content with his situation, but his eyes still ran up and down my body. It made me shiver but I kept my reaction inside as I turned the shopping cart away.

“What, you’re not even going to say hello to your friends?”

The condescension in Macon’s voice made me grit my teeth, but I kept right on walking.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Ashley cooed, “she’s just jealous.”

I rolled my eyes.
Jealous? Seriously?

“She can do way better for herself than either of you!”

Oh, Clare
. I appreciated how my friend stood up for me, but would have rather avoided a confrontation “Come on, they’re not worth it,” I murmured, and knew that Ashley heard me by the sharp intake of breath.

“I was your friend, and you ditched me for some dickhead,” she hissed.

“You stole my card and used me as nothing more than a chauffeur service, and you expect me to just take that?” I couldn’t hold myself back; the memories welled up and brought the anger with them. “You were never my friend unless you needed something.”

“Whatever,” Ashley said, waving me off, and I had to fight not to slap her silly. She wrapped her arms around Macon’s waist and stared up at him dreamily. “She was never as good to you as I am,” she said, turning his head so he looked at her and not me.

He didn’t answer, just kissed her roughly, pinching her ass in full view of the public. I wrinkled my nose at their display and the amount of tongue they used, then nudged Clare, who looked ready to say something else. “Let’s just go.”

Macon broke off the kiss, his eyes swinging back to me. “Come on, baby, you know I’d take you back in a heartbeat,” he said in that soft croon that had once made me melt. “Why don’t you come back home?”

I gawked at him. Macon didn’t seem to realize what he was saying in front of his new girlfriend, or otherwise he just didn’t care one way or another. The hurt look Ashley gave him made me feel pity for the girl, right up until she turned the glare at me, as if his propositioning me was my fault. Disgust filled me at the entire display. What had I ever seen in either of them? “You two deserve each other,” I muttered, walking away.

Ashley tugged on his arm. “Leave her alone, baby, let’s go.”

Macon ignored her pleas, following after us. “You’re not still with that fucking city-boy, are you?” he said, all softness gone from his voice.

I bit my tongue against saying anything as Ashley tugged at his arm. “Macon …”

He rounded on her, shaking her off. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

Ashley staggered sideways into a magazine rack, spilling several candy bars and tabloids to the floor. She looked stunned by what happened, and I stepped between her and Macon “Hey, leave her alone!”

The commotion had attracted unwanted attention, but I held my ground, glaring up at Macon. He’d noticed the additional stares from shoppers, and the charm slid over his face like a mask. “She just slipped,” he said reasonably, moving around me to pull Ashley to him. “You had a little too much to drink this morning, haven’t you, baby?”

She seemed unsure, a bit confused, and my heart went out to her. I remembered a few times when I’d “slipped” or “made a scene” while out in public with Macon. His smile could charm people into not believing their own eyes, that no, he hadn’t pushed her, she’d just tripped. It was never his fault; he was the hero of those situations. You were the clumsy one, the stupid one, he was just trying to make you a better person. From there, it was so easy to fall into the trap that a cuff to the head, bruises on my arm, were for your own good. Such bullshit.

The sudden knowledge that someone could twist power like that made me sick.

“He pushed you, Ashley,” I said, staring at her. “It’s not the first time, either, right? It only gets worse the longer you’re with him.”

He turned Ashley’s face to his, giving her an angelic smile that had no business being on the face of such a devil. “I’d never hurt you like that. It’s all lies, baby.”

He laid a soft kiss on her lips, and I knew I’d lost when she clung to him. He hugged her close and gave me a triumphant look that only made me sick to my belly. Turning away, I pushed the cart quickly up a nearby aisle, wanting only to get away. This time, they didn’t follow, but the memory of them together stuck with me.

“God, what an asshole,” Clare muttered beside me.

“Come on, let’s take this home.” Steering the cart back toward the front of the store, I made a beeline for the register. It shamed me to think I’d once been so stupid to put up with that, and I wanted to be away from them both as quickly as possible.

Everett

The party was in full swing, but Everett couldn’t take his eyes off the dark-haired girl across the pool.

Lacey was wearing a bikini and lounging on a chair with her friend Clare. She laughed at something her friend said, leaning over to whisper something, then as if feeling his gaze she looked across the pool. Her smile widened and she raised her hand in a little wave, which he returned.

“What’s got you so quiet today?” Trent asked from beside him. The blond boy was dripping wet but didn’t care, plopping himself down beside his friend.

“Yeah, I’m just thinking about what’s coming next when summer’s over.”

“Yeah,” Trent echoed, then followed Everett’s gaze. “Brother, if you were anyone other than my best friend, I’d be all over that.”

Everett knew his friend was teasing, but that didn’t stop a stab of jealousy from tearing through his heart. Trent must have seen it as well because he elbowed Everett hard in the ribs. “Seriously, what’s up with you?”

Sighing, Everett tore his gaze from Lacey and stared up at the sky. Words warred inside him as he tried to figure out what to say. “I’m just nervous?”

“About what?”

Everett leaned his head sideways and gave Trent a droll look. Realization dawned on his friend’s face. “Ah,” was all he said, and they sat in silence for a moment.