Every Breath (9 page)

Seriously? “You have no right to say that. If it were Wes—”

“If it were Wes,” she interrupts, “I would lose my mind. It would suck, and I pray to God I never have to find out. But I’d like to think that, at some point, I could function as a normal human being, if not for myself, but for him.”

“I’m fine.”

She laughs, although totally devoid of humor. “Fine? Right, Makenna. You stumble through every day of your life trying to make people
think
you’re fine. Didn’t realize I knew, did you? You put on your little song and dance every day, and most people fall for it. But not me. I watch you hurt. Every single day. And it kills me to know that I can’t do anything for you. You need help. You have to start talking to someone about it, or eventually, there won’t be any of the real you left.”

“How can you say that? I’m making progress. Hell, there are even times that I
don’t
have to pretend to be okay anymore. I’m not ready to move in with Drew because I don’t know him, Callie. We’ve only been dating a few months. Not many people would move in with someone after only a few months.”

She leans across the counter. “Okay, fine. You’re making progress, you say. So tell me something. Have you kissed him?”

“No, but—”

“Exactly!” She slaps her hand onto the granite. “You’re
not
moving on. You may be taking teeny little baby steps toward it, but you should’ve at least kissed him by now. Sex is one thing, but a kiss? It’s not a big deal. You. Need. Help. End of story.”

I pace the floor, ignoring the screeching oven timer. “No, I don’t. And you’re not being fair. You don’t know what it’s like.”

She punches the button to silence it before she takes a few determined steps toward me, grabbing my shoulders. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to lose the love of my life. I’ve been as sympathetic as I can be. But I do know what it’s like to be your friend, before and after the accident. The person standing in front of me right now? She’s only a ghost of who she used to be, and I can’t stand it anymore.”

My eyes follow the trail of a tear slipping down the side of her nose. “Callie . . .”

“No, don’t say anything. I can’t do this anymore, Makenna. I really can’t. So I’m hoping that by doing this, you’ll be forced to start talking to someone. Anyone. I can’t be your friend right now. Not for a while.” She touches my chest, right over my heart. “Not until you face those demons you keep locked up in there. I’m done. Please . . . just go.”

She lets go of me, stops at the oven long enough to pull out the tray of overcooked cookies, and goes upstairs.

I’m not sure how I make it home through the blur of tears, but I hold it together the best I can until I pull into my driveway. As soon as I shove the gear shift into park, I allow myself to be consumed, pulled deep into a dark pit of despair. I’m falling from the ledge of sanity I’ve so desperately been clinging to, and I’ve given up trying to fight my way back to the top.

The last time I cried like this was the day I woke up in the hospital, and my dad told me that Shane was gone. I let myself cry without trying to stop it, without shoving it down into the blackest depths of my soul, like I’ve done every time since. I cried for hours that day, until my body hurt and my voice was gone. I cried until I was empty of life, or whatever was left that Shane didn’t take with him.

After that, I could finally see the pain in the eyes of my parents and friends. Seeing me like that was too hard for them to bear; there wasn’t anything they could do. So I vowed to myself that I would be stronger, so I could protect them. I didn’t want anyone to see me upset, and I refused to talk about him. I knew I couldn’t without anyone seeing my grief, and if that dam broke again, I just knew I’d die, too.

But right now, as the sobs rack my body, I feel every shred of heartache, sorrow, and angst flooding out of me. This is what I’ve tried so hard to fight; this is exactly what I wanted to protect them from over the last two years, what I wanted to protect myself from. I pray to God that he will just take me now. I want to go home. I want to be in Shane’s arms once again.

Please, God, I just want this to be over. I’m ready. I just want the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Anything. Anything to stop what I’m feeling.

I close my eyes, willing my heart to stop, willing my lungs to forego their need for air. I’m done.

I wake at the sound of pecking on my car window, but I’m too exhausted to lift my head. I crack my eyes open just enough to see that it’s pitch black outside. Seeing how I came home around two o’clock, I know I’ve been out here a while, which explains why this console poking into my ribs isn’t as comfortable as it was earlier.

“Makenna,” Drew’s voice is muffled by the glass. “Unlock the door, damn it.”

I don’t want to talk to him, so I just shake my head.

“You can either unlock the door, or I’m breaking the window. Your choice.”

Do I really look like I care? I’m just going to hope he gets the hint and goes away.

He knocks louder. “I’m not leaving. Open. The door. Now.”

Fine. I try to reach the unlock button on the door, but the way I’m laying won’t allow me to reach it. I have to wrap both hands around the side of the steering wheel to get enough leverage to pull myself up, and when I’m finally sitting up again, I hit the button.

Before I can even pull my hand back, the door swings wide open, and Drew reaches inside to yank my keys from the ignition. Then, his bulky arms reach under my knees and behind my shoulders to pull me out, cradling me like an infant.

Once inside the house, he takes the stairs two at a time until he reaches the top and turns into my bedroom. Somehow, he manages to hold me with one arm while he pulls the blankets back. He lowers me onto the bed, and I don’t have enough energy to fight him when he pulls my shirt off and pushes me back on the pillows. He takes his shirt off, too, and climbs into bed with me, pulling the quilts over both of us. If this is the point that he decides to make his move on me, he probably picked a good one. I’m too drained to fight it now.

He drags me over against him, his searing hot chest meeting mine and his arms holding me dangerously close. “Makenna, say something. Please, say
something
.”

“St-stop shaking the b-bed.”

“Baby, that’s not me. It’s you. You’re absolutely frozen. There’s a wicked cold front coming through. It’s twenty-nine degrees outside.”

“Oh.” That explains why I’m half naked, I guess, and why he feels so hot.

He holds me for a long time, until I’m no longer shaking and my muscles relax. I still feel numb, though. Not just from the cold.

Drew pulls me back to look at my face. “Better?”

I nod.

“What happened?” His eyes are so sincere, and his eyebrows are deeply furrowed, creating a collection of little wrinkles between them.

I can only manage a whisper, but I know he’ll just keep pressing if I don’t answer. “Cal and I got into a fight.”

“What else?”

“That’s all,” I lie, shrugging my shoulders.

“So we’re playing that game again? Fine. Tell me what you fought about.”

I’ve already had enough today. I’m
not
doing this with him right now. “Not now. Please? I just need a little more time, okay?”

He growls a sigh. “Makenna, I’ve given you months. Why don’t you feel like you can trust me with this?”

“I do. It’s just hard for me. This isn’t something I talk to Callie about, or my parents. Anyone. I want to tell you, but I need you to give me more time.”

“Okay.” He closes his eyes and nods. “As long as you promise to talk to me before you talk to anyone else. I want to help you through it, baby. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I know. Thank you.”

“Good. Ready for some coffee or soup?”

I force a smile, and he jumps up to pull his shirt back on, but not before tucking the covers tightly around me. “I’ll be back.”

I snuggle down into my pillow after reaching over to turn the lamp off. I have nothing left to give to this day, and I want it over. I guess it’s back to pretending tomorrow.

Most of my day is spent in my porch swing, rocking, drinking coffee, and thinking. Drew never left me last night, so he’s been here taking care of me, but also giving me space. I was surprised to find him on the couch when I woke up and went downstairs right at dawn.

I still feel anaesthetized, but I can already tell I’m falling back into my old patterns. As much as I hate to admit it, Callie was right. Yesterday just proved her point; I’m not getting any better. I can’t function like this anymore, and I know that I have to start talking. I have to get it out in order to grieve.

I know Drew is more than ready to listen, but I have to think about exactly how I’m going to tell him that won’t hurt his feelings. He can’t know that he’s constantly being measured up to Shane, that he’s not the one that I dream about at night.

But I’m also seeing a few things a little more clearly today. I can’t think of any other man in my life that I’d rather be with. Granted, that’s probably because Drew is the only man in my life, aside from Sawyer, but that’s just semantics. Sawyer has become someone that I can really talk to, someone that I think about often, but I chalk that up to my incessant desire to make him feel better about his situation. I worry about him a lot. Any feelings that I harbor for him must be because of that. It’s not like we’ve ever spent any time together in person. He’s just a friend.

Drew wants more from me. Drew wants a future with me, and although I’m hesitant to even consider a life with him, I’m also of the opinion that I would feel the same about any other man on the planet. The one man I truly wanted is gone, so maybe it’s time to just go with the next best thing, right?

Maybe now is the time to force myself to move on.

I’m not in love with Drew by any means, but I like him. Ever since he asked me to go with him to Indianapolis, he’s been extra sweet. I think he’s trying to show me what it could be like if we were together.

Just a few days ago, he invited me over for lunch, and we spent the afternoon in front of the fire. I read a book while he watched television, but he would bring me hot tea without me asking him to, and he would pull my feet into his lap to rub them. Even the most domestic moments that day were kind of nice. Just cleaning up the kitchen while we talked about work just seemed normal and easy. But it also had a strange intimacy to it that I actually enjoyed.

I think that if I could find pleasure in those little routine aspects of coupledom, maybe . . . just maybe, I can learn to feel comfortable with more. But I won’t ever get there, if I don’t take that leap.

It won’t be an easy thing to force myself into, but if I’m going to get my friend back, my life back, I have to. I don’t have a choice anymore. It’s quite literally do or die at this point.

So, tonight. Tonight, I’m going to talk to Drew. I’m going to tell him everything. I’m going to open up about Shane. I’m going to tell Drew that I’ll move with him, but only after I finish my teaching contract at the end of the school year in May. Maybe that will be enough for Callie and my parents to think that I’m a human again. Maybe that will be enough for Drew.

Well, maybe tomorrow. Yes, definitely tomorrow, once I get some sleep and don’t look like a zombie. Then, Drew and I will have a long talk, and he’ll finally know everything.

“Hey, babe,” he steps out the front door with another cup of coffee. “I have to run. My parents are going to be arriving at my house in a couple of hours. Are you going to be okay?”

I nod, a little curious about why his parents are in town. “Yeah. I think I’m just going to shower and maybe go shopping for a bit to get out of the house.”

“Good. You really should. Do you think you’ll be up for dinner with my parents tomorrow night after school? I would really like for you to meet them.” He rocks back and forth on his heels, waiting for my answer.

Meet his parents tomorrow? Well, if his parents are there, I guess I won’t be telling him about Shane, so I’ll happily push that back another day. “Wow, okay. Sure.”

“
Are
you sure?” Those dark chocolate eyes sense the tiniest hint of apprehension on my face. “I know it’s kind of a big deal, but they already know all about you, and they’ve been begging me to meet you.”

If I’m going to be forcing myself into the next step with him, this is going to have to happen eventually anyway. “I’m absolutely positive. I can’t wait to meet them.” Not exactly true, but I don’t regret the white lie at all when his face lights up.

He leans in to kiss my cheek, his lips a soft whisper of warmth on my chilled skin. “If you need me, call me. I can be here in five minutes.”

“I will,” I call out as he steps off the porch. “And Drew?”

He pauses mid-stride and cranes his head around to look at me. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He grins wide, showing his perfectly straight teeth. “You don’t have to thank me for taking care you. You’re my girl, and that’s my job.” He turns back to take the last remaining steps to his truck, jumping inside the cab in one swift motion.

Once he’s gone, I smile. He really is a sweetheart, and if I’m going to force myself into anything, I’m glad it’s with him. I’m hoping that his lovable, easygoing nature makes it easier for me to bear. Although, just the thought makes me feel a little queasy.

After my shower, I have an urge to get out of the house, but I don’t feel like shopping at all. I could go for a walk, but exercise is not in any way appealing today. I want to do something that will help my mood, make me feel better about myself. Maybe I can do something nice for someone. Bringing a little cheer to someone else’s day always gives me a little purpose.

My mind immediately goes to Sawyer. I wish I could do something for him, but I wouldn’t know where to begin. He’s so far away, and it’s the middle of the day, so I can’t talk to him. But now that I think about it, there is someone else that I can help, which will, in turn, give Sawyer some peace of mind. His surrogate grandfather.

We talked about him a little just last week. I remember that his first name is William, and I already know what nursing home he’s in. Sawyer told me that he has a weakness for boxed chocolates, and he loves Tolstoy, so I think I know how I can make his day. That is, if he’ll even allow me near him, but I have to at least try.

I peruse my bookshelves for the only Tolstoy novel I own—Anna Karenina, and I squeeze it carefully in my already stuffed purse after I dig for my car keys. After a short drive, I pull off at my favorite candy shop where they make the best truffles on the planet, and I walk out with enough chocolates for him to snack on for a week. And I may or may not have gotten a few for myself.

When I walk through the doors at Hillcrest Manor, the memories of the time I spent in these walls flood my mind. The sharp, sterile scent mixed with pine cleanser is exactly the same, and even the wallpaper and furniture haven’t changed at all. Of course, it was just eight years ago.

“Please tell me you are Makenna Madison!” a woman calls from behind the reception desk. Her short, stocky frame does a little bounce before coming around the counter, her scrubs stretched dangerously tight across her stomach and her white leather shoes squeak in rapid succession as she makes her way to me.

“It is you! I knew it!” Her heavy southern drawl strings the words out unnaturally, and I catch myself leaning in to wait for the sentence to end. A person’s dialect could never be more fitting to their name.

“You’re right, Mrs. Georgia, it’s me.”

“Well, I knew that, darlin’. I mean, your hair is longer, and you grew bosoms where there were just skeeter bites, but I noticed that pretty face as soon as I saw it.”

Yep, nothing around here has changed at all, including Mrs. Georgia’s fascination with talking about breasts. “Uh, thank you, I suppose. It is still visiting hours, correct?”

“Yeah, sweetie pie, there’s still another couple of hours. You looking to volunteer today? Of course, you’ve been gone a while, so most of the folks that were here before are long gone, but the old turd, Mr. Dorner is still here.”

Oh, my. Mr. Dorner. He “accidentally” groped me every time I came in to see him. I brought his tray in to him one day, and as soon as I turned to leave, he poked me in the butt with his fork, claiming that he had almost dropped it and was trying to catch it.

“Oh, no. No volunteering for me these days. I’m a teacher over in Fairhope now, so my time is limited. I am here to see someone though, but I can’t remember his last name. His first name is William.”

“Honey, asking for a William here is like asking for opinions in a room full of men. You’ll come up with a bunch of ‘em.”

I didn’t think about how common the name is. “Okay, is there a William that is blind? One that doesn’t like people to tend to him at all?”

She gasps, her artificially pink lips gaped open. “Mr. Lincoln? Are you kidding? Honey, you’d be better off with Mr. Dorner.”

“I’ll take my chances. I’m just doing a good friend a favor.”

Her knowing eyes narrow as she smirks. “Oh, a favor for your good friend, huh? I see. Well, I won’t stop you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. He’s on the second floor, room 206. Be prepared to duck when you open the door.”

Wow, Sawyer wasn’t kidding, was he? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I opt for the stairs, remembering the way the elevator always groaned as it moved, and I easily find his room right across the hall from the stairwell door.

I repeat to myself “I’m doing this for Sawyer” a few times before I raise my fist to the door, rapping softly three times. No answer. The door is partially cracked, but all I can see is a wall, so I decide to push it open and peek in to see if he’s even in here.

It’s not long before I have my answer. As soon as I stick my head through the door, an airborne pillow narrowly misses me and slumps to the floor with a soft thud. A gruff but weak voice follows. “I
said
I don’t want a bath today!”

I gather what little courage I have left and nudge the door open a little more and step inside. A frail skeleton of a man is pulling the blankets up to his chin, determined to get his way with skipping his bath. “Are you William?”

He pauses. “Nobody here calls me William.”

Here goes nothing. “Well, sir, that’s because I don’t work here. A mutual friend of ours sent me.”

“Ha!” His artificial laugh is tinged with irritation. “Now I know you’re lying. I don’t have no friends, so go.”

“My name is Makenna Madison. I’m here because of Sawyer.”

His mouth forms a thin line. “Is he dead?”

“Oh, no! As a matter of fact he’s due to be home soon.”

“Hmm.” His bony hands relax, no longer gripping the blanket. “I figured he was long gone by now. Hadn’t heard from him in a while.”

“He’s doing fine, actually. We’ve been talking a little, and he told me he was worried about you. I thought I’d come by to check in on you.”

His clouded eyes look toward me, but almost through me, as he waves me off. “Well, I’m fine, so leave. Now.”

Okay, just when I thought we were getting somewhere. I turn back toward the door. “It was nice to meet you William. Maybe when Sawyer gets back, I can come with him to visit.”

“He don’t need to see me either,” he grumbles. “But you can leave the chocolate.”

I had already forgotten about the gift bag hanging on my arm. “How did you know I have chocolate?”

He almost smiles, pleased with shocking me. “Girl, you don’t spend the last ten years blind without gettin’ a good nose.”

I stifle a giggle, walking to the side of his bed to place the bag in his hands. “Sawyer told me how much you like chocolate, so I picked these up on my way.”

He weighs the bag in his hand gingerly. “What day is it?”

“Today is Sunday.”

He nods, contemplating. “Think you could bring more on Tuesday?”

I don’t try to stop laughing this time, which actually gets a chuckle from him. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, William.”

After stopping for a moment to give Mrs. Georgia my number in case he needs anything, I make the trip back home. Even though the sky is dark and dreary and a light drizzle of rain is falling on me the whole way, I feel a renewed sense of life, the warmth of a good deed making me temporarily giddy.