Breathe Me In (18 page)

It sounded stupid. I realized that. “I was desperate.”

“Okay.” He sounded deceptively calm. “But you’re not desperate now. So why the sudden need to ditch out on me without any sort of warning or explanation?”

“I just want to take care of my past and I didn’t want to drag you into it.” The timing of being at dinner at his mom’s was no coincidence, I realized that. I needed to take care of this now, deal with my mistakes, face them. Move forward. Or I was never going to feel worthy of being Kane’s girlfriend.

“We promised to communicate with each other. To be honest. You know how I feel about people just taking off. That’s what my father did and I fucking hate it. It’s not fair to the people you leave behind.”

That stunned me. Shit. I hadn’t thought about it like that at all. I hadn’t considered his perspective. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to scare you or hurt you. I just didn’t want you to stop me.”

“But here’s the problem, Anya. Everything has been about you. I’ve been working my ass off to reassure you, to adjust my life to having you and Asher in it. To give you the security you need and to not ditch out when you get scared and angry and lash out at me. The least you can do is think about me once in awhile.”

That stung. Mostly because I knew he was right. “I’m sorry, Kane. I didn’t think about it like that.” Was I really that selfish? I’d never thought of myself as selfish. I’d never really had an opportunity to be truly selfish. If I was focused on my needs, it was because I’d always had to in order to survive. “What do you want me to say?” Because I needed guidelines. I needed help to know how and what to give him.

“I want you to say that you’re getting off the bus and coming home.”

Home. I didn’t have a home. Not yet. God, I wanted that. But I wasn’t sure that home was the same definition for me as it was for him. I wasn’t sure that I could ever be like his mother, his sisters. I wanted to try to figure out what home was for me, and to do that, I had to go to the city that had taken me in when I’d been on the run, and then had summarily kicked its figurative foot into my back and booted me back out. “I can’t do that. I need to see this through.”

“Then I guess I’ll talk to you on Friday when you get back. I don’t want to know anything about what you’re doing and I don’t want to be involved in knowing about anything illegal. If you won’t let me help you and you won’t come home, I’ve got nothing. You do what you want. You always do.”

That made me snort. “Oh, yeah, my whole life has been about doing what I want. That’s totally it. Fucking give me a break, please.”

“Great, throw attitude at me. That’s fair. I’m hanging up, Anya, before I say something I’m going to regret.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to swear at him but I restrained myself. Not that it mattered.

Kane had hung up on me.

My shot was way off. I took off the sound deafening headphones and stared at the target in disgust.

“My grandma could do better than that,” Ryan mocked.

It was tempting to turn my gun and point it at him, just to hear him squeal like a frightened pig, but I resisted the urge. That would be totally unprofessional and get me kicked out of the range. Possibly a write up from the sergeant. But it was definitely tempting.

I was in a foul mood, compliments of my girlfriend and her inability to understand that her actions affected other people. If she got herself killed, what would that do to Asher’s life? Chloe’s life. Ethan’s life. My life. I cared about her. A lot. I didn’t want to see her do something stupid. Plus there was nothing fair about her just taking off on me without a fucking word. How would she have felt if I had done that to her? She would have ripped my nuts off and stuffed them down my throat.

Double standards.

Setting my firearm down I stepped back and let Ryan have a turn. My phone buzzed in the pocket of my jeans and I thought about ignoring it, but pulled it out. I was hoping for some kind of apology from Anya or even better, a text from her that she had changed her mind and was on her way home. That wasn’t likely given that it had been twenty-four hours since I’d talked to her. I didn’t think she was going to suddenly get a clue that what she had done was wrong, or if she did, she wouldn’t back down. That was Anya. Stubborn. Insecure. She didn’t like to show weakness.

She was an amazing woman, but she didn’t seem to comprehend at all that she’d hurt me. Or that I had a very justifiable reason to worry about her.

There was a strange number on my phone screen. I almost ignored it, but something told me to answer. “Hello?”

“Kane, it’s me.” It was Anya and her voice was tense and she sounded out of breath.

Fear made my stomach tighten. “What’s wrong? Where’s your phone?”

“Things didn’t exactly go well. I got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Ryan’s gun fired behind me and she made a sound of distress. “Where the fuck are you?” she asked, her voice rising. “Was that a gunshot?”

“I’m at the firing range. And what does that mean?” I pushed through the doors into the hallway so I could hear her better. “Where are
you
?”

“Police station. I was arrested for possession. Do you think… is there any way… you could bail me out?”

For a split second I was so angry I couldn’t speak. And scared. I didn’t even really want to know what circumstance had led to her being arrested because I knew it had put her in danger. She had put herself in danger. That terrified and infuriated me.

Swallowing hard to attempt to gain control of my emotions, I said, “Yes. Where are they holding you and how much is bail?”

She gave me the necessary information and then she paused. “Thanks. I’m sorry, Kane. I wouldn’t ask except…”

Except she had no one else to ask. She’d already asked enough of Chloe and Ethan and I was second best on her sucker list. She knew I wouldn’t say no even though she had done exactly what I had asked her to not do. But there was no way I could refuse to help her. I loved Anya. I did. I just didn’t think she loved me, despite that she did seem to care about me in some fashion or another. She’d never said she loved me and I didn’t believe that she did. Hell, I wasn’t sure she was ready to love anyone, let alone me.

“It will take me awhile to get there, but I’ll should be there by midnight. Do you have a place to stay until your hearing?” She wasn’t going to be allowed to return to Maine until she’d been arraigned. “Have you talked to Chloe? Am I bringing Asher down too?”

“I haven’t talked to her and no, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Shit, I have to go. Thanks, I love you.” Her words were rushed and then the line went dead.

It was the first time she’d ever said those words to me. The very first time. And it was rushed over the phone from jail as some sort of afterthought. I didn’t believe her. Yet I wanted to believe her. I wanted Anya to love me with a sort of desperate pathetic quality that scared the shit out of me. I had never craved love like that and when I had been attracted to the occasional girl who hadn’t seemed to return the interest, I’d moved on quickly. There had also been girls who had been into me and I was lukewarm about them. But it was different with Anya. She was under my skin and she made me insane with want. I wanted sex, love, affection, her trust, her loyalty. I wanted to know that she shared everything with me, that she didn’t pick and chose what I was allowed to see and hear from her. I wanted her to ask my opinion, to feel that maybe I could offer her some solid advice.

But she wasn’t going to do that. Anya was who she was because of her life to that point and she wasn’t suddenly going to trust me and she wasn’t suddenly going to stop watching her back. She did what she wanted because she had to look out for herself and Asher first at all times. There had never been room or the luxury for her to love someone. And I didn’t blame her for that. It didn’t change the fact that I just wanted her to love me.

And I knew she didn’t.

I also knew that I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t that guy who kept coming back to be used and strung along. I had a little more fucking dignity than that. And I couldn’t sit around worrying about someone who had such little care and regard for my feelings. I couldn’t invest anymore. I loved her and I was starting to love Asher, picturing a future for myself with the two of them and that was stupid. It wasn’t going to happen. I couldn’t base the foundation of a lifetime together on her need for security and my need to be the goddamn savior.

She couldn’t or she wouldn’t put me first, or even second. I was convenient, and nothing more. I knew that she liked me. We had fun together, both in clothes and out. If you lined up a bunch of dudes, it was likely that she would pick me as the one she wanted to hang out with the most. But that wasn’t love. That wasn’t permanency. Funny that she’d pushed hard for a commitment from me, but could she really give one to me? It seemed like she was committed to me only on her terms, and as long as it was beneficial to her.

And that hurt. It hurt hard enough that I was pissed off and wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to walk into that police station and not throttle her.

Shoving my phone back in my pocket I opened the door and gestured to Ryan. He put his gun down and gave over to me. “What’s up?”

“I have a family emergency. I need to leave and I won’t be back for a couple of days.” No one needed to know any more than that. Especially not my boss. Hey, yeah, sergeant, just bailing my girl out for possession. That would go over really well. Kiss any future promotions goodbye.

Ryan said some words of sympathy that I barely heard then I left to go collect every dime from my bank account and head to New York.

To bail out Anya and break up with her.

When I’d gotten to New York, initially everything had gone according to plan. I’d been glad to see Rose and catch up with her. Getting a hug from her was like feeling a grandmother’s touch, or what I imagined a grandmother’s touch would be like. She made me feel calm, at peace. I’d taken the ring she had been keeping for me and I’d gotten a decent price off of it. Enough to give Ethan and Chloe a few hundred bucks back after I repaid Diego. Then I’d gone to a club that I knew the dealer frequented. One of his friends had spotted me immediately.

“Hey, Anya, look at you, all fresh and innocent looking. Nice. What’s with the hair?” Ivan had flipped the ends of my hair up and inspected them, clearly amused. He was a huge guy, most likely with Russian mob connections, and a habit of knocking his girlfriends around. Not a nice guy, Ivan. None of these people were nice people.

I’d always known that but after a month in Portland with people who were genuinely good, the difference was jarring, noteworthy. The club was a place I used to frequent with Sam all the time, partially underground, a dirty little hole in the wall. It smelled like weed and sweat. The tables were small, surrounded by velvet chairs that had permanent butt impressions from the many years of use. At one time, this had been a trendy bar in a hip neighborhood but tastes had shifted and now it was tired and forgotten by the hipsters, the rich, the gays, who had spread out across Manhattan and claimed other neighborhoods. This dump was for the Russians, the dealers, the strippers, the musicians, and the eccentric rich who wanted to “keep it real” while scoring some prescription drugs.

Despite the smoking ban, people were lit up all over the bar and I instantly hated the atmosphere as soon as I walked in. I had smoked off and on for a few years, mostly out of boredom, but it had been a couple of months since I’d lit up and I associated the smell with my nights with the band, when I was working out a lot of anger. I wasn’t sure how I had felt that I belonged here at one time. But that left the question, if I didn’t belong here, and I didn’t belong in a suburban house in Portland, where did I belong?

Maybe nowhere. That was the scary reality.

“I was going for blonde bombshell,” I told Ivan. “How did I do?”

“You’re no bombshell. You’re punk rock girl, you know that. You’re a pull my hair kind of girl.” He gave me a wink.

Holy Christ, was he flirting with me? I’d never gotten that vibe off Ivan before. I was uncomfortable with both that and the fact that he had figured out I would like to have my hair pulled. It made me feel naked. Transparent. Everyone knew I was bitter. Not a good feeling.

“I’m get the fuck out of my way girl,” I told him. “I need to see Diego about a little business.”

Ivan blew cigarette smoke in my face. He didn’t look at all offended by my rude words. “I thought your little college boyfriend OD’d. What do you need Diego for?”

The way he dismissed Sam made me bristle. “Why do you care?”

“Because if you’re looking to go into business, I can do better by you.”

“I’m not selling drugs,” I told him, impatient with his attention.

But Ivan shook his head. “Not what I meant. Now that you’ve cleaned yourself up a little you’d make a nice date for guys who have too much money. It’s very lucrative and not a lot of personal risk for you.”

Ah. That made more sense. Ivan wanted me to fuck dirty old mob men for money. He probably thought I would be flattered. Instead I just felt unclean. Bile rose in my mouth and I struggled to maintain my poker face. I couldn’t mess with this guy, but I had never been desperate enough that I would accept his repulsive offer.

“Thanks, but I’m good right now.”

He studied me for a minute, but I stood relaxed, impassive. I didn’t want him to think I was scared of him in any way. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

“I will, thanks.” I gave him a smile and a wave. The key was to stay loose, with the appearance of being in control. I wanted to both throw up and punch him, but I had to keep a lid on all of those emotions. Time to wrap this up and get the hell out of this bar.

Moving around the side of a few empty chairs, I finally laid eyes on the man I’d been avoiding for months and months. He saw me at the exact same time and he gave me a lazy smile. I’d never known his last name, nor did I want to, and sometimes I wondered if his first name was actually made up. But then I decided I didn’t actually care. He was sitting in a chair, his leg loosely crossed over the other, his flashy sneakers on display. He was smoking a cigar, a girl in a very short skirt resting on the edge of his seat.