Hold Me Like a Breath (16 page)

I've always hated myself for that promise.

I put a hand on Garrett's chest, just lightly—and wondered if the reason he hadn't joined me in the pool lately was lurking beneath his T-shirt. He shut his eyes and dropped his head. His heart beat beneath my palm, his chest rising and falling in shattered breaths.

“I can't stay, princess. If you don't want to come, I understand. But I
can't
.” He skimmed a finger down my cheek. I could feel the blush creeping along the line of his caress. He traced it over to brush my bottom lip and tilted my chin up.

“Where would we go?” My voice was breathless.

“Where do you want? New York City? I promise I'll take care of you. We could use Dead Meat doctors if you need anything.”

Maybe it would be better if we left. Our fathers could work things out without us in the middle—and Nolan would be gone too. In fact, our being missing would give them a unified goal—to work together to find us.

“When will we go?” My mind skipped from “would” to “will” as soon as I considered what life
here
would be like without him. I could feel the heat rise off his skin as he noticed the change.

“Now. Today. Before you lose your nerve or someone suspects.”

“Today?” My stomach tightened. “But I need time to pack.”

“You can't. We can't tip anyone off. Just bring whatever fits in a purse. I'll get you anything you need.” He grinned, and his hand reached out, his palm skimmed over mine. The nerves in my stomach melted into butterflies.

“We're really going to do this?” I asked.

“We're really going to do this.” He leaned his forehead to just barely rest on mine and breathed out a sigh of soul-deep relief. “Thank you.”

Lunch and an afternoon. That was how long I had to play-act at normal. Pretend every glance I shot at Garrett wasn't full of thrills and doubts. With Nolan gone and the Wards banished there was too much of my parents' attention focused on me.

“Sweet pea, you are all fidgets. Are you sleeping enough?” Mother asked. “I think you should go lie down after you eat.”

“That's a good idea,” said Father. “You do look a little tired, and I might need Garrett and Ian to cover some duties this afternoon.”

I shot Garrett a panicked look, but he was calmly eating dill potatoes. “Of course, sir.”

“
You
could use a rest too,” admonished Mother. “You're working too hard. There's no need to train Nolan overnight. I was hoping with him being away, you'd have some free time.”

Before Carter died she never would have criticized Father. But before Carter died he didn't work twenty-five hours a day. He lifted his eyebrows and I could practically see him debating his response.

“I miss you,” she breathed out with a quiet dignity.

“Garrett, go tell Darius to push the meeting with the VIP up to one thirty. I'll be wrapping up early today so I can have a glass of wine with my wife.” Father picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles; she blushed and smiled at him as if he'd gift-wrapped the universe and presented it to her with a bow.

“Yes, sir.” I wanted Garrett to look at me that way, but he didn't glance in my direction as he left the room.

I cleared my throat. “I'll just go lie down and give you guys some privacy.” I was only half-embarrassed they were being
affectionate, maybe less than half. It was good to see her happy, it was good to see him notice things outside his office.

“Love you, sweet pea,” said Mother, turning to flash me a radiant smile. Father tugged my sleeve as I walked by. I offered a tremulous grin, then headed upstairs, feeling like Rapunzel about to be released from her tower and terrified of everything that lay beyond.

I stood in my room: a half-full purse in one hand and fingers twitching with indecision on the other. I'd spent my life collecting all these
things
, ways to bring the outside world in, and now I was leaving them all behind and going out.

“Hey.”

I gasped. I hadn't heard the door open or Garrett cross the room to stand behind me at my bureau. And because my eyes had been on the contents of my jewelry box, I hadn't seen his approach in the mirror. I looked up at his reflection, slightly aware that a strand of pearls was slipping from my fingers and clattering onto the glass top, but more aware of the way his eyes glittered as they met mine in the mirror. And the warmth radiating from his arms as he circled them around me to rest on the edge of the dresser.

“Just wanted to check on you. Any second thoughts?” He bent down so the question raised goose bumps on my neck.

“No. Of course not,” I stammered. “You?”

He shook his head, his nose grazing the skin below my ear and making me shiver. “You almost ready?”

“When” had become “now” and I didn't feel ready at all, but I swallowed, nodded, managed a smile. “I need a few more minutes.”

“Sure. Meet me behind the pool shed in ten.” He pressed his lips quickly to the top of my head.

“We are coming back, right?” I almost didn't dare ask because if he gave the wrong answer I couldn't go. And he couldn't stay. I didn't know what went on in the Wards' house, but his joy and relief about leaving made my heart ache.

“Whenever you want, princess. Promise. But for now, don't be late. We want to go before the gate shift change—Mick's on duty and he'll let us leave without telling. We need that head start.”

I nodded. Right answer. I could do this.

He skated his fingers down my arm, then left.

I took a deep breath and shut my jewelry box. I wouldn't need anything from there. This was temporary. I'd go with Garrett, we'd have adventures, establish that I was fine outside these curved walls without twelve zillion layers of protection. We'd get a break from Family politics and our fathers' pissing contest. He'd get a reprieve from his family's bullying … or worse. Then, in a week, maybe two, we could come home. Triumphant.

So why did it feel so much like good-bye? Why did I want to go downstairs to kiss my parents' cheeks and tell them “I love you both”?

It wasn't the unicorn statues I minded leaving. Or the closets full of clothes. Or my makeup table. It was the photos. The dollhouse I hadn't played with in years, as tall as I was and custom-ordered to look just like our house, complete with dolls: Mother, Father, Carter, and a seven-year-old Penelope. It was the teddy bear Father had given me when I was six and my platelets first started rebelling—the one I'd named Rumpelstiltskin, called “Rumpel” for short, and gripped tightly through so many blood draws and nightmares. The nightlight Mother brought back from Venice with the blue-and-green glass that reflected like rainbows on my wall. The crown of dried roses, which had been alive and gorgeously pink when I wore them on my head on the day of my First Holy Communion. The Bible Grandfather had given me that same day, my name and a benediction scratched in his wavering handwriting on the first page. The large illustrated treasury of Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales Father, Carter, and Mother had taken turns reading at my bedtimes.

These were the pieces of my life—and they wouldn't fit inside the lining of my purse.

I took the Carter doll. I took some cash. Took a deep breath.

I kissed Rumpel and left him on my pillow.

I shut my closet. I shut all my drawers. Shut my eyes.

Exhaled slowly.

And stood in front of my door trying to gather the strength to step into the hall.

Don't be late
.

A knock made me jump. I swallowed a scream.

“Penny? You in there?” a familiar voice asked.

“Hey, Caroline.” I shielded my purse behind the door as I opened it. “What are you doing over here?”

“You know how you're always saying I can raid your closet? I wanted to borrow a dress. I have a first date tonight—do you mind?”

“Of course not.” I still had six minutes to kill—and being early might be more conspicuous. “Did you have one in mind?”

“Not really. Maybe that white eyelet one? Or the blue pleated? What do you think?” Caroline flounced into my room and pounced on my closet door. “It's so quiet in your house today. Where is everyone? It's dead in the clinic too. Dr. Castillo is entertaining a VIP, but there's nothing for me to do. I could play fashion show for hours and he wouldn't even notice.”

Hours? Normally that wouldn't be a problem. “Um, why don't you try on the blue one,” I suggested. “I think that'd be perfect.”

I watched the clock while Caroline wriggled out and into clothing. “Zip me?” she asked. And, “What do you think?”

Four minutes.
We need that head start
.

“Gorgeous,” I said.

“You're not even looking.” She laughed. “Why are you so distracted? And where's your hot-stuff shadow and his creepy family today?”

I gulped.

She laughed harder. “What aren't you telling me? Is something going on with Garrett?”

“No.” I said it a little too quickly. “He's in a meeting with Father.”

Caroline's forehead wrinkled. “No, he's not. I just saw your dad. He's sitting on the patio with your mom—”

“I think you should try the green seersucker dress—that would be so pretty on you.”

Three minutes.

I stood. “I'm thirsty. I'm going to run and get a drink. Want anything?”

“Sure. Lemonade? And when you get back, you have to tell me what's going on. I
knew
you and Garrett would get together.”

I nodded and fled. Grateful she'd gone back in my closet and hadn't seen me pick up my purse.

If Mother and Father were on the patio, I didn't need to creep down the stairs, but I did anyway, doing my best imitation of a spy based on what I'd learned from watching Bond movies with Carter and Garrett. Quiet and caution seemed doubly unnecessary, because I could hear loud voices outside. The shouting would more than cover any sounds I made.

Poor Mother, she got to see so little of Father lately—and if a Business phone call had interrupted their time he'd be furious and she'd be silently annoyed. Had Al called to apologize? If so, it wasn't going well. The shouting escalated. Something smashed—probably Father breaking his glass. He did that when he was mad—he and Carter both liked to take their frustration out on glassware. At least he hadn't thrown it through a window this time.

With my parents on the patio, I couldn't go out the back door. I'd have to go the roundabout way—through the library's french doors and approach the pool house from the back.

There was a sharp crack and a shattering. Maybe Father
had
thrown something through a window. Except … that was a scream. A high-pitched scream. Father's temper wasn't fun to witness, but it had never scared me, not like the fear I heard in that voice. My fingers froze on the handle of the library door.

It was wrenched open from the inside, pulled from my hand by Dr. Castillo. He was wearing a look I'd never seen before—not during any of my medical emergencies—panic.

“Penelope.” He breathed my name out like a prayer. “Thank God.”

“Something's wrong.”

“Shh.” He cut me off with a finger to my lips and a tense whisper. “You have to come with me.”

“I can't.” I had to get to Garrett.
You can't be late
. I had to get to him, and then I had to see who was screaming.

“No, you have come to with me. Now.” He propelled me down the hallway and into an exam room with a bruising grip on my arm. That alone was jarring enough to make me obey. That plus the shouts getting louder on the other side of the clinic doors.

Spread out
.

Check upstairs
.

“Penelope, do you trust me?” Dr. Castillo asked—his voice was barely a whisper but thick with tension.

I nodded, listening for more words, more voices.

“Good.” In a swift motion he swabbed my arm and uncapped a needle. “Hold still.”

The needle wasn't attached to an empty test tube waiting for my blood. It was a full syringe. Whatever was in it burned. And
the effect was instantaneous. A distancing from myself. An iciness in my veins. A detachment that made sounds echo and my fear turn hollow. Just before I gave into the urge to shut my eyes I noticed the light above the exam room door. It had turned on. Red.

Warning red.

Blood red.

My mouth was dry. Like someone had swabbed up all my saliva with paper towels, leaving behind dust and fibers and not even enough spit to swallow or wet my lips. I coughed.

“Penelope. It's Dr. Castillo, can you open your eyes?”

I managed it for a moment. Barely long enough to confirm what the voice had said—yes, Dr. Castillo, but also a stranger—before they shut again. My brain worked slower, memories clicking into place one puzzle piece at a time.