Ten Tiny Breaths (23 page)

Nate.

And he has the guy within his grasp.

He stalks past me with a menacing look, the
guy dangling by the neck from one of his fists. I hope he squeezes
too tight and crushes the man’s larynx. But that hope hasn’t calmed
my nerves a bit because Storm is somewhere in there and I still
don’t know if she’s alive.

“Storm!” I scream.

Finally the wall of bouncers breaks apart.
Ben guides me through with a hand on my back to find Storm huddled
awkwardly on the floor, her limbs folded into themselves. A pang of
alarm stabs me. She looks so much like Jenny did in the car.

I dive to her side.

“Oh, Kacey!” she cries and throws herself on
my shoulder. “All I could think of was Mia.”

I’m shaking. “You’re alive. You’re alive.
Thank God you’re alive,” I mumble over and over as my hands grope
her arms, her neck, her shoulders. No blood. No wounds.

“I’m okay, Kacey. I’m okay.” Her cheeks are
red and tear-stained, her makeup smeared all over her face, but
she’s smiling now.

“Yes,” I confirm, swallowing the painful ball
in my throat. “You’re not going to die. You’re okay. I haven’t lost
you.” I’m too close to Storm. Too close to getting hurt like I did
when I lost Jenny. An avalanche of memories crushes any semblance
of relief I should feel right now. Suddenly, I’m trapped in the
past, with a best friend who I’d known since we were two, who
shared days and nights filled with laughter and tears, anger and
excitement. An acute ache blossoms in my chest as I realize they’re
all the memories I hope to create with Storm too.

All the things that man just tried to steal
from me.

With a hint of trepidation, Storm reaches
forward and takes my hand in hers. I hadn’t breathed since I leapt
over the bar. Now I let the air out of my lungs. And something
snaps inside me. I don’t know how to describe it other than to say
it’s like the little needle on my moral compass breaks in half.

As if a hate bomb detonates inside me.

He tried to steal my second chance from me.
He needs to pay.

Fluorescent lights now shine down over the
inside of Penny’s, casting an unpleasant glow over the spilled
drinks, empty bottles and garbage as bouncers usher patrons out. I
catch Nate’s broad shoulders as he rounds the corner toward the
back exit, the guy still within his grip. My teeth crack against
each other.

I’m faintly aware of Trent standing near the
front entrance. He’s pointing toward the stage and arguing with a
bouncer to let him pass. My attention lingers over him for a split
second, but nothing really registers, driven back to the hall where
that vile creature, the one who tried to rob me of my new life,
left.

I’m up and running.

I’m shoving grown men out of the way as I
tear down the hall after Nate. I round a corner in time to see his
enormous frame pass through the back door. As I speed to catch up,
my heart beat racing, blood rushing to my head, I sense my hand
grab an empty glass bottle sitting on a crate. Without a distinct
thought or message to my body, my hand smashes it against the wall,
sending shards of glass flying.

My fist squeezes the neck tightly, imagining
how sharp the broken edges must be.

How effective they must be.

When I plow through the back door, I find
Storm’s attacker standing in the parking lot. Alone.

Perfect.

Without uttering a sound, I charge forward,
my arm drawing behind my back as I ready my aim. The weasel turns
to see me and his beady little eyes widen.
Six feet, five feet,
four feet
… My arm is just about to catapult around to plunge
the broken glass deep into his chest, to let him physically feel
the level of pain I would have had to face had he been successful
in his attack, when two giant trunks sweep in and lift me off the
ground, securing my arms tight against me.

“No!” I scream. Now I’m kicking and screaming
with everything I’m made of. My teeth clamp down on Nate’s arms and
sink in, tasting copper. He grunts, but doesn’t stop, carrying me
back inside the doorway. He drops me on the ground and leans
forward to meet me eye to eye, his hands still securing my
arms.

“Let the police take care of it, Kacey!” The
rumble in his voice vibrates through me.

“Police?” I frown and peer out past him. The
Weasel isn’t alone. Four cruisers with flashing lights line the
parking lot and a dozen officers mill about, scratching notes down
as witnesses recount the scene of events. Somehow I hadn’t seen
them.

“Ohmigod.” I stumble back, vomit rising into
my throat, the bottle slipping from my fingers to tumble to the
floor as I clutch my middle.

“I got you before they saw what you were
about to do. No one saw anything and if they did, they’ll let it
go,” Nate promises, his dark gaze searing deep into my face as if
looking for something. For a demon, lurking, perhaps.

“Kacey!” A breathless Trent yells as he
catches up with me. I’m hyperventilating by this point, my chest
heaving like I’m fighting for my last breath. The one I can never
seem to catch. His attention falls to the broken bottle lying by my
feet. “God, Kacey. What were you about to do?”

I’m swallowing and struggling for air and
shaking my head and trembling all at the same time. “I don’t know,
I don’t know. I don’t know,” I mutter over and over again. But I
know. I know what I almost did.

I almost killed a man.

***

Street lights pass by all at once and not at
all as Dan drives us home in his police car. I know Trent is
somewhere behind us on his bike and all I can think of is the look
of horror on his face.
What were you about to do?
he asked.
And he knew. No doubt he knew.

Storm helps me out of the car as if it were
me attacked, not her. How is she acting so normal?

One step forward. One step forward. One step
forward.

“Kacey, I’m okay. I promise,” I vaguely hear
Storm say as she leads me hand in hand toward the apartment.

I know she’s fine and I’m thankful. But I’m
struggling. I’m fighting to keep myself from crumbling into pieces
on the sidewalk.

I almost killed a man tonight.

Aunt Darla’s counselors were right all along
…
One step forward. One step forward. One step—

Fingers snap in front of my face and break my
trance. I look over to see an ocean of worry in Storm’s blue eyes.
“I think she’s in shock,” she says to someone else, clearly not
me.

“No, good. I’m good. Good,” I mumble and
suddenly I’m grasping for Storm’s biceps and squeezing, panic
surging. “Don’t tell Livie. Please?” She can’t find out what I
almost did.

Storm nods. I see her exchange worried looks
with Trent and Dan.

“Come on.” The ground disappears as a set of
strong arms scoops me up. In seconds Trent has me laying on my bed
and he’s pulling the covers over me.

“No, I’m not tired,” I mumble, struggling
weakly to get up.

“Just … rest. Please?” Trent says softly. His
hand smooths over my cheek and I grab it, holding it tight,
pressing my lips against his palm.

“Stay.” I hear the desperation in my
voice.

“Of course, Kacey,” he whispers. He kicks off
his shoes and climbs into bed next to me.

I close my eyes and nuzzle in his chest,
reveling in the warmth of his body, the pound of his heartbeat, the
smell of him. “You hate me, don’t you? You must hate me. I can’t
help it. I’m broken.”

Trent squeezes me close to him. “I don’t hate
you. I could never hate you. Give me your heart, Kacey. I’ll take
everything that comes with it.”

I start to cry. Uncontrollably, for the first
time in four years.

***

“Pull my finger.”

Jenny giggles hysterically. She giggles every
time Billy says that.

And I roll my eyes, just like I do every time
he says that. “So hot, Billy. Take me now.”

“Kacey,” my mother admonishes, overhearing
me.

Billy winks and squeezes my hand tight and I
squeeze back. Mom and Dad are in the front, talking about next
week’s game and how I need to get my license soon so they don’t
have to cart my ass around anymore. Of course I know they’re
joking. They’d never miss one of my rugby games.

“Would you stop being so cheap and just buy
me that damn Porsche already, Dad?”

“Language, Kacey,” my dad scolds but looks
over his shoulder to throw me a smile. I know he’s beaming inside.
I scored the winning try at tonight’s rugby game, after all.

Everything next happens in a fog. My body
jerks violently. Something smacks into it. A weight presses down
hard against my right side. I feel myself tossed and turned. And
then it all just … stops.

And I’m vaguely aware that something is very
wrong.

“Mom? Dad?” There’s no answer.

It’s hard to breathe. Something squeezes my
ribs. My right side feels numb. And I hear a strange gurgle. I
listen closely. It sounds like someone taking their last
breath.

I bolt upright, my body drenched in sweat, my
heart pounding against its confines, racing so fast I don’t know
where one beat ends and the next begins. For a moment, I curl up
into a tight ball and rock, trying to shake that dreaded knowledge
that I had caused the accident. That it was me who distracted my
dad with my smart ass remarks. That, if I hadn’t distracted him, he
would have seen the car coming and could have avoided it. But I
know I can’t change it now anyway. I can’t change anything.

I’m relieved to find Trent lying next to me,
his bare chest rising and falling slowly. He hasn’t abandoned me
yet. The street light outside casts a pleasant glow over his body
and I sit quietly and take it in, wanting to mold myself to it. I
fight against the urge to touch it, to trace my fingers along its
perfectly sculpted curves.

With a sigh, I stand and walk over to my
dresser on wobbly legs, wondering how long before this new life
falls apart too. Before I lose Trent, and Storm, and Mia. This new
life was almost dismantled tonight. Just like that. I should just
walk away, I tell myself. Disappear and end all of these
relationships that have been forced on me and spare everyone more
heart ache. But I know that’s not possible. I’m in too deep. I’ve
somehow made room for all of them in my life and my heart. That or
they’ve made room for me in theirs. Either way, with each passing
day, I won't survive the void that will be left when they’re
gone.

With my back to Trent’s sleeping form, I let
my soaked dress drop to the floor. I unsnap my bra and toss it
alongside the dress. My panties follow next. Removing a tank top
and shorts from my top drawer, I’m considering hopping in the
shower to cool off when a soft voice says, “You have the prettiest
red hair.”

I freeze, my cheeks flaming, acutely aware
that I am standing completely naked in front of a guy that can make
me climax with the right look. I hear the bed creak and footsteps
approach slowly, but I don’t move. Trent edges up behind me and the
air in the room grows thicker. I can’t turn around. I can’t face
him and I don’t know why.

I can feel his very existence as if it’s
wrapping its hand around my soul, cradling it, trying to protect it
from harm and I’m terrified. Terrified because I don’t ever want
the feeling to end.

Every nerve in my body short-circuits. I
stiffen as his hand grazes my shoulder before shifting my hair over
to one side, exposing one side of my neck as he likes to do. A cool
breeze tickles there as he leans down close.

“You’re so very beautiful. All of you.”

He yanks my PJs out of my grasp and lets them
drop to the ground as he takes my hand in his. His mouth trails off
to my right shoulder and he begins to sweep across my scar line
with tiny kisses, sending shivers everywhere. Pushing my arm up so
my hand rests on my head, I sense him shifting his body. Down,
down, he continues, his mouth moving gently along my rib cage, over
my hip, all the way to my outer thigh, kissing each line marking my
tragic past. The entire time, my left hand holds his while my other
one rests on my head. And my body trembles with anticipation.

Trent’s hands move to grip the outsides of my
thighs securely as he lays a final kiss on my tail bone and I
wobble slightly from weakened knees. I sense him standing behind me
again, his hands skating back up and around to my belly, pulling my
body firmly against him, letting me feel him hard against my
back.

My head falls back against his chest with a
mixture of excitement and frustration—excited that Trent is
allowing me close to him again after weeks of keeping me away,
frustrated that this will end all too abruptly.

But he shows no signs of ending this now as
his hands continue up to slip over the contours of my breasts,
cupping their fullness. I hear the sharp intake of air in his
lungs. Slowly, he turns me around and pins my arms behind my
back.

I don’t know why, but I can’t bring myself to
look at him, so I stare at the tiny scar line along his collar bone
instead, and feel his chest rise and fall against mine, my nipples
hardening as they graze against his skin. My breath comes out in
short pants as he leans down and whispers, “Look at me, Kacey.”

I do. I look up and let myself sink into
those blue eyes, so full of worry and pain and desire.

“I’ll make you whole again, Kacey. I promise
you, I will,” he whispers. And then his mouth covers mine.

I’m faintly aware of the wall now flattening
against my back, of his boxers dropping to the ground, of strong
arms lifting me up, of my legs wrapping around his hips, of feeling
him against me.

Pushing inside me.

Making me whole.

***

It’s still dark outside when I wake again.
This time my head rests on Trent’s chest, my body entwined with
his. His fingers doodling over my back tells me he’s awake. It’s
not a nightmare that’s woken me up this time. It’s Storm and Dan’s
raised voices through the wall.