Breathe into Me (8 page)

“Come on, let me take you home.”

“Wait.” I held up a finger; there was something I was forgetting. After a short pause while my brain caught up, I remembered and lifted up my shoe. “I lost one of these.”

Everett looked between the shoe and my face. Another bemused smile touched his lips. “I think the other one’s by the road,” he said.

“Really?” Letting him go, I turned toward where I remembered my bike being, then frowned when I didn’t see it. “Didn’t I ride my bike here?”

“How about we get your other shoe, and I take you home?”

“No,” I said again, this time planting myself in place. The alcohol haze was wearing off, taking my good mood with it, and I frowned. “My mom’s mad at me, and by now my grandma’s probably home, too.” That meant double the trouble, and I was drunk to boot. It was like winning the damned trifecta … except I was sobering up enough to know what I’d won wasn’t worth shit.

“How about we get you some food?”

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in, and then I smiled. “Yeah, I’m hungry.” My stomach chose that moment to twist, further underscoring the fact that I was right. Bile crept up my throat.

Oh, that’s not good
.

“Come on, there’s a Waffle House just down the road here, maybe we can—”

And that was the moment I decided to hurl all over his feet.

An hour later, all I wanted to do was crawl under the table and die.

“I’m so sorry I threw up on you,” I moaned for the hundredth time. “And for saying such stupid things.”

“It’s all right, can’t be worse than some of the stuff I step through every day on the job site. And nothing you said was stupid, so stop beating yourself up. Everyone’s been there.”

But all I could do was sit there, miserable, going over every detail of the last half hour. Already I wanted to apologize again, but this time I kept my lips closed.

“Drink some water. It might help; you were probably dehydrated.”

I’d already had two glasses of water, but dutifully took another sip anyway. “I’m sorry I drunk-dialed you,” I murmured. I was apologizing for something different, so it was okay this time. My head was still buzzing from the alcohol, but shame and mortification at my behavior had dampened the effects.

“Yeah, I was pretty surprised to see you call. You usually just text.”

My mood sank further south until he dipped his head so our eyes met. “It was a good surprise, I promise.”

“Yeah.” I poked again at my rapidly cooling grits, and then took a small bite. The oyster po’boy I’d enjoyed only hours earlier was spread out over the beach and Everett’s shoes. My stomach rumbled for more food, but I was reluctant to listen this time.

“So what happened with your mom?”

It was the first real question about my day he’d asked. “We had a fight. She slapped me.” I ducked my head so he wouldn’t see the sudden tears that sprang to my eyes. Apparently I was still buzzed enough not to have any control over my emotions. “She’s never done that before; I didn’t even get spanked as a kid. My grandmother’s used her belt on me before, but my mother never hit me.”

“I’m sorry, Lacey.”

I shrugged one shoulder, taking another bite of the grits. Despair welled up suddenly. “I hate my life here.”

“Then why don’t you leave?”

“And go where?” I looked up at him, then back down at my bowl. “The only family I have is down here.”

“What about your stepdad’s family? Can’t you call them?”

The memory of my grandma Jean flashed through my mind. “No,” I said miserably, “they don’t care about me. I’m not their blood.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not really their family. My stepfather adopted me because he had to, but I’m not really his kid.”

“Who told you that? No man
has
to adopt the child of someone he marries, it’s a choice.”

I just shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. The memories hurt too much, and I wasn’t up for dealing with more emotion right then.

We stayed quiet for a couple minutes, and then Everett sighed. “Look, I might know someplace you can stay the night.”

That old familiar suspicion rose up inside me again. “Where?”

“There are guest quarters or something behind our house, an entire building all by itself. It doesn’t have a kitchen, but it has at least one bathroom, probably more. To be honest, I haven’t explored it much, but there has to be a bed or couch in there.”

I thought about it for a moment. “What about Trent?” I asked, wondering why I was looking this gift horse in the mouth. It was a bed for the night, and not in the trailer park—a step in the right direction, if you asked me.

“He should be okay with it, but I’ll text him anyway.”

The thought of one night where I didn’t have to face my grandmother’s barbs and my mother’s unbearable silence sounded heavenly. I deliberated for a moment, and then sighed. “Can you text him now?”

Everett quickly typed out a message as I stared at my own phone. I realized I should probably let my mother know that I was okay, but I just couldn’t do it. The blow to my face had long since stopped stinging, but the jolt to my heart was a raw, seeping wound. I couldn’t remember any time my mother had ever touched me in anger, not even as a child.

A phone chimed, and I saw Everett turn his over. “He says it’s fine, and wants to know if you like pizza?”

Slowly, a smile crept across my face. “I love it.”

* * *

It was one thing to drive past a dream house for years, but another entirely to actually go inside.

The grounds were immaculate, the flowers and green grass perfectly trimmed and maintained. White columns rose up from the entrance, as tall in person as I’d imagined when I’d seen it from the road. Whoever had built this cut no corners with the house; it looked straight out of a Civil War documentary.

When I stepped through the front door, it was like walking onto the set of
Gone with the Wind
. The furniture in the entryway was almost delicate, ornately carved and filigreed. I was afraid to touch anything, for fear I’d break it. The house opened up immediately once you entered, with high ceilings and a staircase on the far right wall. A great crystal chandelier hung above us in the entryway, all gold and brass and sparkling facets.

“This place is incredible,” I murmured, awed by the overabundance of splendor.

“Yeah, a little posh for my tastes,” Everett said in a dry voice. “Watching over a place like this definitely makes you paranoid. My entire summer’s salary couldn’t replace some of these antiques.”

The smell of pizza wafted to my nose, and I heard noise farther in the house. I followed Everett into the kitchen to see Trent with a large pizza box on the counter. He was pulling several slices onto a paper plate, and didn’t bother to look up as we walked in.

“Save us some, will you?” Everett said as Trent piled the wedges high on his plate.

“There’s more than enough. I gotta eat and run, though. Got a date.”

“Seriously? Who is it this time?”

“No idea, but Cole called saying he needed a second guy for a double date. I guess the threesome he’d been gunning for was a miscommunication, so he’s doing damage control.” His eyes swung over to me. “Hey, Lacey.”

I didn’t say anything, just gave a small wave. My insides clenched nervously, realizing with him leaving I was going to be alone with Everett. On the best of days, the boy alternately confused and aroused me, and now I was still tipsy. Mixing alcohol with the situation all but guaranteed I’d make a bigger mess of things.

“I figured his little story sounded too good to be true.” Everett shouldered his way into the kitchen, checking out the refrigerator. “You drank the last of the beer?”

“Yeah, I was gonna leave you a note to get more.”

“Asshole.”

They bickered like a pair of old friends, and I wondered how exactly they’d met. I didn’t know where Trent had gone off to college, but was fairly certain it wasn’t New York. They acted like I wasn’t even there, and I preferred it that way.

“Hey, before you leave, think you can take a look at an old transmission?”

“What, that rattrap of yours finally dive off the deep end?”

“No, this is for a friend. Just want to see how much it’ll cost.”

Trent’s eyes darted over to me, and then he hitched a shoulder. “Can do. Just tell me when, where, and what. See you lovebirds later.”

I flinched at his words, and watched out of the corner of my eye as he walked out the door, still carrying his paper plate and leftover pizza. The silence that fell was uncomfortable, at least on my part. I took a moment to survey the living room, which was much more modern and livable. In typical male fashion, clothing was strewn across random pieces of furniture and beer bottles dotted the tabletops, but it looked more homey and less like a movie set.

“Want to see the back?”

I looked over at Everett and, tamping down my sudden nervousness, smiled. “Sure.”

The house sat on a huge plot of land, at least two acres by my estimation. I’d never been able to see the rear of the house; it butted up against the back of another smaller house that hid everything from view. Thick oak trees dotted the open area at the back, but it was the large two-story white building that captured my attention. I had always wondered what exactly was inside; it looked like servants’ quarters, or a guesthouse, something along the lines of a mini hotel.

I heard the pop as the old door unstuck itself from the doorjamb, and knew this place hadn’t been used in a while. The interior was nice, although not quite as ostentatious as the main house. The main area was a big open room with sparse furniture in comparison to the house. A pool table sat against the side wall, and a covered couch in front of a big flat-screen TV sat across from it.

“Trent said the first floor of this place was razed by Hurricane Katrina, so everything down here is fairly new.” He pulled off a sheet covering some of the chairs. “There’s water and electricity out here as well as cable, but if you’re hungry you’d have to come to the house for food.”

My eyes moved to the far end of the room, toward a large piece of covered furniture in the corner. Lips parting, I stepped lightly over the tile floor and pulled at the thin cloth. It slid easily off the smooth surface, piling to the floor around my feet.

Everett moved in beside me. “Well, damn, I didn’t know that was here or I would’ve invited you sooner.”

I ran my fingertips over the smooth wood surface of the baby grand piano, moving around to the front. My lessons as a child had been on an instrument just like this; a different make, but the exact same size. The brocade bench seat wobbled when my knee brushed it, and I left it alone as I lifted the lid for the keys.

Unfortunately, I knew the instant I hit middle C that the tuning was off. Disappointed, I ran a quick scale and listened to the discordant notes fill the air. Sighing, I put the lid back down. “Oh well, that would have been too much luck for my life lately.”

“I
will
hear you play one of these days.”

The conviction in Everett’s voice made me look at him. He stared back, and I could see my own disappointment mirrored in his eyes. Despite my frustration, I smiled at him. “I know exactly what I’d play for you, too.”

I could see it in his eyes that I’d sparked his interest, but before he could reply I held up my hand. “Find me a piano first.”

He grinned. “Deal. Now let’s see if we can find you someplace to sleep.”

Two more sheets later we came across an old maroon couch that didn’t quite match the decor, along with some pillows and an old quilt. “This’ll be great,” I said, arranging things on the couch. There were a few lumps in the cushions but I’d slept on worse.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in the house? We’ve got more rooms than we know what to do with.”

I shook my head. Everett didn’t seem to like my answer. “Is it that you don’t trust me?” he asked in a curiously hesitant voice.

“No,” I said quickly, and to my surprise I realized it was the truth. I looked away. “I don’t trust myself.”

I didn’t see what he thought about that information, and honestly I didn’t want to. “Thank you for the bed,” I said, sitting down on the couch.

“If you need anything, just come up to the house. I’ll leave the back door open for you.”

I nodded mutely, still staring straight ahead. All this talk of beds and sleeping arrangements felt too intimate, somehow, and I knew if I looked at Everett, the
awareness
I felt for him would be painfully clear. After another awkward moment, he said, “Good night.”

“G’night.” And then I was alone. I let out a pent-up breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding.

The sun still hadn’t gone down yet, but my body was slowly succumbing to drowsiness. Pulling the quilt over my shoulders, I stared at the far wall before lying sideways onto the pillows. I needed to be up early again in the morning for work, and would have to budget extra time to call a taxi. Despite a cursory search of the beach after we cleaned up Everett’s shoes from my lunch, my bike was nowhere to be found. I hadn’t been particularly attached to it, but that meant one less freedom in my life. I was running low on options.

But for now, at least I had a place to sleep. I curled inside the thick quilt around me and closed my eyes, praying sleep would come quickly.

* * *

I made it to my shift on time the next morning, glad I left an extra change of clothes at work for days such as this. Six in the morning was an ungodly shift, but I’d slept surprisingly well on that lumpy couch and was actually feeling good for once.

Work was normal right up until after lunch. My only clue that something bad was about to happen was Clare’s anxious look from two aisles over at something behind me. I turned to see Macon approaching me, and there was nothing I could do to get away.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were having an abortion?”

At first his words didn’t register. “I … what?”

“You should have told me you were pregnant. I would have taken care of you!”

I stared at him, his words a sudden blow to the gut. “Macon,” I murmured, struggling to formulate an answer to a conversation I
never
thought I’d have, “I’m not … I wasn’t …”