Breathe With Me (The Breathe Series Book 3) (35 page)

A sharp jolt hits me and again, I stare down to the letter that is shoved into the pocket of my clothes; that same thing is true for me. Releasing a breath, I relent on letting him know all that I do until he can meet with Judd, Tristan and Jake; he needs this. Telling him everything may be all it takes to fix what has been broken inside.

Smiling through misted-over eyes, I open my mouth and let it out. “Well, she lived in Rosemore. I went to school with all three of her sons. Her oldest is named Tristan, and he is 21 or 22…” I roll my eyes, not wanting to dive into what sort of a womanizer he is, before moving on. “Then there is Judd, he was a year behind me in school and Jake is a little younger.” I collect my thoughts, suck in a mouthful of air and go on, “Evan said Hailey got sick several years back and she passed away the same year he met Judd.” I don’t hear a sound on the other end as I deliver this dreaded news; nothing. “Dad?” my voice quivers.

“I’m here, sweetie.” He stops talking, and I tumble over anything I can say or do to break the silence, but there is nothing I can possibly say; he has to process this, and I get that. “Thank you, Piper.” A sound I don’t expect sneaks over the line as Dad takes a breath, yet it’s not the sort I expect; it’s almost a cleansing, relieved breath and that in itself gives me hope for my future as I peer down at my heap of clothes.

“Soooo…” Pushing my teeth together, I decide a new direction is in order; let’s turn this into a positive. “I guess a family reunion is in order?” I grin, hoping this will lift Dad’s spirits and remind him that there is still a reason to celebrate. His sister left behind three great, wait, two awesome guys and one that is determined to drive my best friend half insane until he gets in her pants. Shaking my head, I get back on track. “I’m sure you all will have plenty of stories to tell each other.”

Dad coughs and I cringe, flinching as if his pain is my own. “Yes, that would be nice. I’d love to get to know them all. Would you mind setting something up?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll text Evan when we hang up and see if we can all get together after the New Year.”

“Sooo…I keep hearing Evan’s name. That’s a name I haven’t heard you talk about in such a chipper fashion in years. Anything you wanna tell me?”

I hear a hint of teasing in his tone and I automatically go into full on junior high girl mode. “Ohhh, well, we actually spent a little time together and I guess maybe…” I never knew how hard talking to Dad about these sorts of things could be. My stomach dips and turns, making me feel uncomfortable.

He chuckles, “Ok, ok, well make sure to bring him to the house. I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on as well. I know you both used to be two peas in a pod for as long as I could remember. It’ll be nice to get back a little of what you lost.”

My body jumps at him saying exactly what I have been thinking. “Ok…I will.”

“Well I think I am going to get off here and maybe try to sort through all this. Let me know when and where and I’d love to see some pictures if at all possible. Ummm, I know I’m a little at a loss for words on it, but I do appreciate knowing. It’s never good to leave things unsettled in your heart.”

I take a deep breath, pushing all of my anxiety that I felt earlier into the pit of my stomach so that maybe, the fears that hold me back in life can once and for all be forgotten, and my scars can heal.

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you too, Dad.” I hold off immediately on saying bye. “I am sorry, Dad. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Bending down on shaky legs, I place my phone in my suitcase beside my sweater and reach my hand out an inch closer, and closer and closer, yet as my fingertip barely brushes over the softness of the knitted garment, my legs become concrete. I turn to stone, unable to will myself any further to whatever truths or lies he has fed me after all these years. I fall to my knees onto the hard wood floor, a dull sting splintering over my knee and reminding of that night; pulling up the memories of my legs digging into the gravel as I fled.

My lungs shut down as I squeeze my eyes shut and hear a pained whimper. I snap my head around and look towards the bed, why I have no idea; I know it was me, but as the still blackness of terror and nostalgia threatens to sweep over me like the plague, I’m unable to pinpoint whether the sound is a memory of that night as I prayed it would end, or if it is the fear I pushed down erupting out of me, because it is too much to hold back.

I have to get this under control. I can’t let that one-night rule my entire life.
It has dictated every fabric of my being from that night on; I’ve never been able to carry on an intimate relationship with anyone since Evan, I keep everyone at arm’s length in terms of trust and closeness, and the slightest things can knock me into a whirlwind of darkness.

Keeping my eyes closed, I listen to the sounds in the room; nothing, only muffled chatter from the next room mixed with a chilly breeze outside and rapping branches against the back window. I push down the feeling that Trent is right there again, invading the present and holding me back from living life. Stiffening my shoulders and drawing them in towards my neck, I push down the impulse to feel his hot breaths in my ear once again.
Breathe, Breathe.

My mind races, thumbing through carefully selected memories that inflicted further pain and doubt over my heart.

“Piper, do you have any idea why Trent would have wanted to leave so suddenly?”

The question sends ice through my veins. With less than a week since the night he took everything from me, I can barely look Mom and Dad in the eyes out of fear that they will see the truth. However, hearing the skepticism and blame in my mother’s tone, tears me apart. She already voiced to Dad that she was extremely against him wanting to go back to California, but she also told us how adamant he was on leaving; I’m thankful for that. No way could I face him day in and day out, or even begin to sleep in the same house as him.

“Well I just found it odd that the last thing he told me is to tell you he was sorry.”

There it is. I squeeze my eyes shut and grip the kitchen counter as she continues to scrub a plate for the sixtieth time since we’ve stood here. I wish Dad was back from fishing.

“So you have no clue why he would say that?”

She blames me; or does she know.

Raising my shoulders till they scrunch against the sides of my neck, I look forward and try to regain my composure by gulping in a lungful of air. My stomach rolls and my head spins as I stare forward. From the corner of my eyes I can tell she hasn’t even looked my way, she just keeps scrubbing, brushing her anger off on that plate.

“Hmmmm, well I sure would like to know. He’s had a rough way to go and my sister is in no condition to take care of him. I just found it odd that he would beg me to go back, don’t you?”

Another gallon of oxygen reaches my lungs and I pray that I can stay upright as she digs, sounding as if she knows more than she’s letting on.

My mind tumbles and scrambles through more memories, feeling each of them like jagged shards of glass piercing my heart.

Weeks go by and the sounds of laughter from anyone around, at a store, my family, other kids playing outside in the neighborhood, it’s all amplified as if it’s directed at me; like everyone is pointing at me. The sound hits my eardrums in a series of echoes and murmurs. “Why didn’t she tell him to stop?” “Why didn’t she scream for her dad or call for help?” I can’t stop the accusing sounds anywhere I go.

My heart stumbles as I remember how helpless those first few weeks were, leading up to the first time my body rebelled and I blacked out.

I’m alone, surrounded in darkness and it’s a dream; no, a nightmare. He’s behind me, against me and I can’t stop it. It’s happening again. I breathe and breathe and breathe until all the air in the room is emptied and there is no more to take in. Muffled words tug at me and I swear I can hear Dad.

“Call 911…she isn’t waking up,” he cries out, sounding scared and panicked. “Piper, Piper, wake up.”

I gasp, not sure whether he is dunking me in water to pull me out of my dream or what. My fist finds something solid and it’s then that I realize, I’m still in bed. My face isn’t under a faucet or being dunked beneath the surface of a cool bath, but it is soaked in tears and my sobs drown out everything else as I pull myself into Dad’s arms, clinging to him.

“Baby, you scared me. Call the doctor,” he instructs Mom.

I don’t even look around for her. All I can think is to stop them. A doctor will dig and dig to find the answers of why I’ve become so reclusive, turning away from all school activities, discarding most of my friends and preferring to seal myself in my bedroom alone.

“No Dad, it was just a nightmare. It scared me. I thought I was…” I pause, thinking, searching, scrambling for an excuse. “I was drowning and couldn’t breathe,” I burst out. That’s exactly how I felt, trapped, unable to reach for anything to help me; being guzzled alive as my mind and body felt everything yet I couldn’t find the power to say a word.