Just One More Breath (19 page)

Shawn

The following
morning, the electricity returned. I’d ignored my cell phone for three days, and it rang and pinged until the battery died. I plugged it into the charger and less than ten minutes later, it started pinging with countless text messages. But what really got my attention were the thirty-five voice messages I had from my parents and brothers. I listened to three voicemails from my mother. I could hear the worry in her voice; each message being no more than a few simple words, "Shawn, it's your mother. Please call me," and it made me feel terrible. I dialed my mother, bracing myself for the impending verbal assault.

"Hi, Mom
," I said, trying to sound as natural as possible.

"Shawn Michael Burns, I have been calling you for the last three days
," she yelled in a half-worried half-irritated voice. "Where the hell have you been?"

I
cringed as my mother flipped out on the other end of the phone. I felt bad, I hated to cause my mother worry, but I had been so caught up in the bubble I shared with Nicole that I had no desire to speak to anyone else. "I'm fine, Mom, my electricity just came back on...but I'm fine and I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner."

"Or answer any of my hundreds of phone calls
," my mother grumbled.

"Or answer any of your hundred
s of phone calls," I repeated.

"Is Nicole with you?"
she asked. "I've been calling her as well.”

"Yes, Nicole is here
," I said, and then there was an awkward silence. I was fully prepared for an onslaught of questions, but my mother surprised me.

"Can I speak to her?"
she asked.

That
was it?
No questions? I was shocked. "Okay, Mom, I'll talk to you later. I love you, too. ’Bye." Then I silently pointed my cell phone in Nicole's direction. Her eyebrows shot up as I mouthed, "She wants to speak you."

Nicole smiled, grabbed the phone and wandered into the bedroom to speak to
my mom.

Nicole

"Hey
, Mama Burns, how are you?" I asked.

"Oh, I'm good no
w that I know you and Shawn are okay," she said on an exhale.

"I'm sorry we made you worry
," I apologized

"It's ok
ay, honey, just don't do it again," Mama Burns said sternly.

I
snickered softly. "Yes, Ma'am."

"I'm glad you decided to stay at Shawn's place for the duration of the storm, the news reports are saying that Staten
Island sustained a significant amount of damage."

I
sucked in a harsh breath. I'd been so wrapped up in Shawn that I hadn't even thought about what was going on in the outside world. "Crap, I need to go check on my house and the center." I became sick with worry.

"Well
, all bridges and tunnels are closed until tomorrow," Mama Burns informed, "so there's no use in working yourself up about it now."

I
took a few deep breaths, Mama Burns was right. I would try not to worry until there was actually something to worry about. "Thanks for the info, Mama Burns. I will call you tomorrow and let you know how my place looks."

"Ok
ay, sweetheart. Take care." The call disconnected but I sat on the edge of Shawn's bed with the phone still pressed to my ear and my brain running a mile a minute.

Do I have flood insurance for my house?
I tried my best to remember if I’d accepted that option.
Do we have flood insurance for the center?
Losing the center would devastate me even more than losing my house. Despite having decided not even thirty seconds before that I wasn't going to worry, I was already worried. My hand began to shake, and when I looked down I realized that it wasn't shaking from nerves. Shawn's phone was vibrating in my hand. I glanced at the screen and saw a text message displayed:

Brooke:
I really wish you would've returned my calls. I was looking for to “RIDING” out the storm with you.

I dropped the phone as if it had burned me. Seeing that text message was a seriously sickening reminder of the kind of man Shawn...is? Was? I wasn’t even sure. I grabbed the still vibrating phone off the ground and walked back into the living room and handed it to Shawn.

"You have a really important text message
," I murmured, and turned to walk away. Shawn looked at me quizzically and sensed the shift in my demeanor. As he glanced down at his phone, he went stock still when he read the message. Silently, he pressed a few buttons on the screen of his phone and placed it to his ear.

“Hi
, Brooke, it’s Shawn.” There was no pause; Shawn didn’t even give this Brooke girl a chance to reply. “Look, I got your message and I’m just calling to ask you not to send me messages like that anymore.” Shawn sounded stern while he spoke to Brooke, but I could feel his eyes boring into me as I walked away.

It felt so intense that
I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at him. In his eyes I saw regret, sorrow, and love. Shawn continued to hold my gaze while he spoke to Brooke; he wanted me to know that he meant each and every word that he was about to say.

“I have a girlfriend now, one that I
truly love, who loves me back. So don’t contact me again. Having messages like this being sent to me is disrespectful to her and it’s disrespectful to our relationship.”

Shawn finally gave Brooke a chance to reply
. I doubted that he was listening to a single word that she said because he was still holding my gaze firmly. “Have a nice life, Brooke. Take care of yourself,” he said with as much sincerity as he could muster. He ended the call, and started to walk slowly toward me.

He wrapped his arms around
me waist and pulled my body into his.
“I’m sorry you had to see those messages, baby,” he whispered against my hair. “I have no interest in Brooke or any other women," he said, squeezing me tightly. "She means nothing to me. No other woman but you ever has.”

One of his hands began to pull at the long strands of
my curly hair draped down the middle of my back. “That message wasn’t important to me, and I don’t want that life anymore, Nicole. I don’t want to be that guy. You’re the only person that matters. The only woman I love, the only one I've ever loved."

Before
I could respond, Shawn kissed me. It was a simple peck on the forehead but it spoke volumes. When he pulled away, I smiled. "I love you too, Shawn."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The devastation in Staten Island was worse than I could've ever imagined. As Shawn and I drove toward my house, my heart broke at the sight of people—some who I knew personally—trying desperately to salvage some of their personal items. I gasped and sighed countless times as the radio reporters constantly updated the death toll, and gave updates on one neighborhood that had completely burned to the ground. Unable to hold back any longer, I began to sob. Shawn reached over from the driver’s seat and held my hand. I squeezed it tightly, thanking him for being there for me. Yet again.

I
let out a sigh of relief when we pulled up at my house. Luckily for me, the exterior of my house didn't look nearly half as bad as others on my block. Unfortunately, the inside wasn’t as undamaged. My basement and first floor were completely flooded and all of my furniture and electronics were destroyed.

None of that mattered, as
I ran into my house. I ignored all of it. I took the steps two at a time, praying that the there was nothing damaged in the only room that really mattered. Relief spread through my body when I opened Jax's bedroom door and realized that everything was still intact. I quickly opened my bedroom door and saw that my windows were broken, and my things were blown all over the place. I closed my door and walked back into Jax’s room.

I
looked around his room, it was full of clothes and shoes and other necessities that little boys loved. I then thought about the countless families I had seen struggling to salvage things from their home. Here I was with a room full of things that some other children would be really grateful for, and they weren’t being used.

I
pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and hit dial. “Hey, Jaxson, it’s Nicole.”

An hour later
, Jaxson was at my front door.

“Thanks for calling me
,” Jaxson said, as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

“Is your boyfriend here?”
he asked as he stared at the floor.

“No, he went to check on
The A.R.T Center for me. I thought this was something that we needed to handle, just the two of us." I put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been excluded from enough, I didn’t want to do this without you, and Shawn agreed that it would be best if he left.”

I
slipped my arm around his and led him up the steps.

It took
Jaxson a few minutes to pull himself together once he entered the room, but once he stopped crying, he sat on Jax's bed, and agreed with my decision to clean out Jax’s room and donate his clothes and shoes to needy children. We started in his closet, each pulling out an article of clothing or a pair of shoes, and telling a funny story that went along with it.

When
Jaxson stumbled upon Jax’s beloved red Chuck Taylors, he hugged them to his chest. “Remember when we bought him these shoes?” he asked me, with tears in his eyes.

“How could I not?
” I asked with a snort. "He wore them every day for over a month.” We both laughed.

“Remember you started calling them his uniform shoes?”
I asked Jaxson, causing him to laugh even harder as he clung to the shoes. “Yeah, I remember,” Jaxson said, as he held the shoes in his hands, stroking the laces. After a beat, the humor faded and he became serious again. “I think I want to keep them,” he said thoughtfully.

I
rubbed his shoulder gently, offering him comfort. “Keep whatever you need to, Jaxson.”

As
we made our way through his room, Jaxson and I kept finding more and more things that we wanted to keep. I kept a few of his sports jerseys and a pair of Timberlands that actually fit me. Jaxson kept a few shirts that Jax had conned him into buying. One said, "Bigger than yours" with a squirrel holding two nuts in his hands. Years ago, when I’d asked Jax what the squirrel was holding, he unthinkingly replied, “Acorns,” and went about his day. The other said, "I really mustache you a question, but I'll shave it for later." Jax and Jaxson had thought that was hilarious...me, not so much. Jaxson also kept the first tie that he’d ever purchased for Jax. 

After three hours
, all of Jax's closet and drawers were clear, and there were three bags neatly placed at the door. Jaxson took a good look at the water damage that the house had sustained, as he placed the last bag by the exit.

"What are you going to do about this?”
he asked, gesturing toward the wet mess of a living room.

I
shrugged. “I’m not sure, I need to get someone in to survey the damage and give me an estimate.”

“What if it’s really expensive to fix?”
Jaxson asked.

It took
me a minute to answer. I hadn’t thought about that so I wasn’t really sure. “Well, I do have flood insurance. So I’ll see what they cover and go from there.”

Jaxson
gave the house another really long look and moved toward the door with his large bag of Jax memorabilia.

I
stopped him. “Jaxson, wait, I have something else for you. I led him over to the kitchen counter and grabbed my bag. I pulled out a small box and placed it in front of him.

Jaxson
’s hands began to shake as he lifted the lid and uncovered a small charm identical to the one I was wearing around my neck. “It came in the mail a few days ago, but I never got a chance to contact you. You know, with the storm and everything,” I explained.

Jaxson
nodded and lifted it out of the box. He ran his fingers over the ridges of the thumbprint, staring that it. Then he brought it up to his lips and kissed it. The gesture broke my heart. I motioned for him to turn around and helped him attach the hook in the back of the necklace. When he turned back to face me his eyes were damp.

“I don’t think I can cry again for a really long time
. I’m pretty sure I used up all of my tears…and my reserve tears,” he said sadly.

I
smiled and brought my hand up to my own necklace, rubbing my fingers over it just like Jaxson was with his.

Jaxson
bit his lip, a sign that I recognized. I remained quiet and gave him a chance to work through his thoughts before he spoke again. On cue, Jaxson’s teeth gave his lip a break and he began to speak.

“How would you feel about selling this house to me?"
Jaxson asked.

The surprised look on
my face made him look away.

“If the damage is too much for you to deal with, I will gladly take it off your hands. This place represents the happiest days of my life. I don't think I will ever be that happy again."

I didn’t know how I felt about it. "I might be able to do that, I just need to work through a few things. Can I get back to you on it?" I asked.

Jaxson
nodded, grabbed his bag full of Jax's mementos, and headed toward the door. I gave him one final hug and a kiss on the cheek. “It might not seem like it just yet, but we are going to be okay, Jaxson. Both of us.”

He nodded, but didn’t reply as he walked out of the door.

I sat at the kitchen island for a long while contemplating the offer Jaxson had just made. Could I sell this house? Yes, I realized, I could. The emotional attachment I felt toward it was gone. And it was clear that living in this house would be really good for Jaxson. But where would I go? Would I buy another house? Again, more things to consider.

Shawn had sent
me a text checking in and telling me that Mama Burns wanted us to come by for dinner, so I would run this new scenario by him later on. After all, he would have to alter the divorce settlement details to reflect the change in ownership of the house. 

~*~*~*~*~

As Shawn and I walked into his parents’ house that night I almost got whiplash. When Shawn said that he and Shane were identical twins, he wasn't kidding. Those two boys literally looked like clones. The only difference was their haircuts. 
Shawn had a low cut and Shane had a cute mess of curly hair on his head. They even had the same dimples, how the hell was that fair?

And then there was Mark. That man had bad boy written
all
over him. He had tattooed arms and from the look of his skin-tight T-shirt, pierced nipples. He looked like an edgier version of Shawn and Shane, but he had a dangerous gleam in his eyes that could persuade even the smartest woman to follow him into imminent danger with a huge smile and damp panties.

The Burns boys were all smoking hot in their own way. Each one totally different, but still
, so strikingly similar. They definitely could pass for triplets; I was amazed and suddenly couldn’t wait to meet Matthew. I wiped the drool away from my lips and stopped ogling long enough for Shawn to formally introduce me to his brothers.