Ten Tiny Breaths (14 page)

“God, Kacey.” She sniffles. “Have you had
therapy?”

“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” I
snap.

“I’m … I’m sorry.” The car is filled with
Storm’s muffled sobs. She’s trying to contain them, to be strong, I
can tell by the way she keeps sucking in her breaths.

My anger morphs into guilt and I bite my lip.
Hard. The coppery taste of blood coats my tongue. Storm’s been
nothing but kind to me and I’m nothing but a bitch to her. “I’m
sorry, Storm,” I force out the words. Even though I mean them,
they’re still hard to get out.

She reaches for my hand but, remembering,
places her palm on my forearm.

That little gesture is enough to melt my icy
defenses and I start rambling. “I was in the hospital and rehab for
almost a year. Doctors visited me there. Not much after that
though. Apparently zombie drugs and daily rounds of Kumbaya will
solve all my problems. When I got out, my aunt insisted I talk to
the counselors at her church. They suggested she put me in a
serious rehabilitation program because I’m a broken young woman
full of rage and hatred who could become harmful to herself and
others if let loose.” That last part is almost word for word what
they said. My aunt’s answer to that was leaving a bible on my
nightstand. In her view, reading the bible fixes everything.

“Where’s this aunt now?”

“Back in Michigan with her disgusting husband
who tried to molest Livie.” Silence. “Is that what you wanted to
hear, Storm? That you have a walking head case living next to
you?”

She turns to look at me, wiping tears from
her cheeks with her palms. “You’re not a head case, Kacey. But you
do need help. Thank you for telling me. It means a lot. One day it
will get easier. One day this hatred won’t confine you anymore.
You’ll be free. You’ll be able to forgive.”

I vaguely notice my head nodding. I don’t
believe her. Not a word.

The atmosphere of the Jeep has dropped seven
levels below unpleasant. I’ve bared more to Storm than I ever have
to anyone else and its left me drained. “Look at you—Stripper
Acrobat by night, Deep Thought Provoker by … later night.”

Storm snorts. “I prefer just ‘Acrobat.’ My
clothes happen to fall off sometimes, unexpectedly.” She nudges my
arm. “Come on. That’s enough exposing for one night. For both of
us.”

Now that I’ve survived the conversation with
Storm, my thoughts move back to Trent with a vengeance, the need to
feel that intoxicating life trumping all other desires. I didn’t
answer him. I should have answered him. I need to tell him that I’m
better than okay. That I think I might need him.

The faint sound of laughter carries through
the commons as Storm and I walk through the shadows. Some of the
college students in the building still up, partying. I wonder what
that would be like—hanging out with friends, drinking, having a
normal life—as we round the corner to our apartments.

A silhouette moves past the curtain in
1D.

I stumble, my pulse quickening. Then, without
thinking, I walk up to the door and stand in front of it.

“See you tomorrow,” I hear Storm call out as
she continues on and I can tell she’s smiling.

Inhaling deeply, gathering all the courage I
can muster, I lift my hand to knock, but the door flies opens
before my knuckles make contact. Trent steps into the doorway,
shirtless and expressionless and my mouth instantly dries. I’m sure
he’s going to tell me to go to Hell. I wait for it. I’m terrified
to hear it.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything. He’s
waiting for me, I realize. There’s just one word I need to give
him.
Yes.
It might make this all better.
Yes, Trent. Yes,
it’s okay
. I open my mouth and find that I can’t. I can’t form
a single word that will impress upon him the gravity of the
situation.

With wooden movements, I step forward. He
doesn’t back away. He just watches me, his bare sculpted chest and
pants hanging low off his hips taunting me. He’s as hot as he ever
could be. I could spend days with that body. For once, I hope that
I will.

But that’s not what I need right now.

I cautiously reach out, my stomach muscles
coiled into a tight ball, suddenly panicked that whatever I felt
earlier might be temporary, that I’ve lost it again. When my
fingertips graze his and warmth spreads through me, that dread
evaporates.

His warmth. His life.

Closing my eyes, I slide my hand further in,
slipping my fingers between his and curling them around. My lips
part in a small gasp when his grip tightens over mine. He doesn’t
move closer though. He doesn’t try anything or say anything. We
stand like that, in the doorway, our hands entwined, for what feels
like forever.

“Yes,” I finally whisper breathlessly.

“Yes?”

I’m vaguely aware that my head is bobbing. So
intense is this high that nothing else matters. I let him gently
pull me in. The door clicks closed behind me and he smoothly guides
me into his dark apartment with a hand pressed against the small of
my back. Down the hall, and into his bed, his sheets cool and crisp
and smelling of fabric softener. I sense, rather than see, Trent’s
body slide in behind me, pressing up against me from toes to
shoulder, never once letting go of my hand. Not once. I snuggle
against him, reveling in his warmth.

And in that heavenly peace, I fall
asleep.

***

A hissing sound …

Bright lights …

Blood …

I’m gasping.

Slow rhythmic breathing next to me helps
regulate my own heart rate as I wake up from my nightmare. At
first, I assume it’s Livie, but then I feel my hand wound into
someone’s large, hot hand—not Livie’s hand.

I roll my head to see Trent’s perfect form,
the peaks and ripples of his chest, his face relaxed and boyish. I
could lay here and stare at him forever. I don’t want to let go.
Ever.

That’s why I have to.

I slip my hand out carefully and slide from
the comfort of Trent’s bed, closing the door softly behind me as I
exit his apartment.

***

Livie’s waiting for me in the kitchen,
getting breakfast before heading off to school, her eyes wide with
worry. “You stayed at Trent’s?” Her tone is half-accusatory, half
astonished.

“Nothing happened, Livie.”

“Nothing?” She glares at me. There’s one
thing Livie can do well. Glare until you squirm when you’ve
lied.

“I held his hand,” I whisper finally. To
anyone outside listening in, we’d sound like a bunch of nine year
olds. But to Livie, who understands the impact of this, this is
huge.

She’s speechless for a moment, sputtering
gurgles and half-words. “Is this … do you think this could be
something more?” she finally asks.

I shrug indifferently but the heat creep to
my cheeks, giving away my excitement.

“You’re blushing!”

I pick up a Cheerio and toss it at her
head.

She dodges it deftly, smiling. “I think this
could be it. I think Trent could finally bring Kacey back to
me.”

I wonder if she’s right. But I just snuck out
of his apartment without a note or anything. He might not
appreciate that. A twinge of worry jabs me but I supress it. I had
no choice. If I had stayed, I know exactly what we’d be doing right
now and it isn’t thinking. I need time to think and adjust to this
new reality.

I feel Livie’s excitement right down to my
bones. For three years, my baby sister has begged me to let go of
Billy and move on. The thing is, my issue hasn’t been about moving
on from my feelings for Billy. Of course, I cared about him. Did I
think he was “the one?” I’ll never know. At sixteen, everyone is
“the one.”

No, my issue has been that, because of those
last moments with Billy, the very idea of my hands wrapped in
someone else’s has plagued me, making my heart stop, my stomach
drop, my vision blurry, my muscles spasm, and sweat pour down my
back all at once.

Until now.

This is different. This feels … right
again.

“You look fabulous!” Mia drawls, impersonating her
mother and making us all laugh. Storm’s making veal parmesan and
I’m modeling my new outfits. I’d exhausted Storm’s closet and
needed a few things of my own, so we spent the afternoon at the
mall buying clothes. I let Storm coordinate the outfits. I don’t
have the first clue how to dress appropriately for a job at a strip
club, even after weeks working there. In any case, the ordeal gave
me good distraction from Trent.

“I think I’ll wear this tonight,” I announce,
coming out in a short emerald green tunic dress that falls off one
shoulder and nude heels.

“Good choice! Can you set the table, Kace?”
Storm asks as she bends down to check the oven.

“You know you’re going to have to let me cook
one day, right?” We’ve spent every night at Storm’s for dinner for
weeks.

“I like to cook.”

“Maybe I do too,” I throw back, placing the
plates on the table, earning a derisive snort from Livie.

“You’re short one setting,” Storm says with a
peek at the table.

I frown. “Uh, no? Four people, four
places.”

“We need five,” she says without making eye
contact.

“Storm?”

Someone knocks on the door.

“Storm?”

Mia hops to her feet and runs to it, throwing
it open with a dramatic bow.

I suck air into my lungs as Trent steps in
and I can’t help but gawk. He’s in dark blue jeans again, but he’s
wearing a button down white shirt, untucked. I manage to peel my
eyes from him long enough to flash a look of “you’re going to pay
for this” surprise Storm’s way before turning back to focus on him,
all kinds of nervousness and excitement and guilt churning inside
me. I don’t know why. Trent and I held hands while watching my
friend dance naked. Trent rescued me in the apartment building’s
now-infamous snake-attack, and then I jumped him. I spent a night
in his bed with him. Eating dinner with him—and my sister and
neighbors—hardly qualifies as an intimate encounter that justifies
thrashing butterflies. And yet, here I am, ready to pass out.

Mia bows dramatically. “Welcome, kind Sir.
Princess Mia has been awaiting your presence.”

Even Mia knew! That little devil.

From behind his back, Trent produces a bunch
of five pink roses. He kneels on one knee to present it to her. I
hear the collective sigh from all the grown women in the group,
including myself.

“Thank you for inviting me,” he says. She
clutches the flowers in both her tiny hands, and then gazes at
Trent with wide, starry eyes that don’t blink for far too long. Her
cheeks flush and I can tell this is the moment where Mia falls in
love with him. This tall stranger has just become her life-long
prince.

The moment passes rapidly, and then she turns
around and runs toward Storm. “Mommy! Mommy! Look what that man
gave me!”

Trent winks as he shuts the door behind him,
closing the distance to where I’m standing. “You disappeared this
morning,” he whispers.

This is so awkward. Thanks, Storm
. “I
… I know … I’m …” I’m about to say I’m sorry, but he winks.

“It’s okay. I figured it was all a bit too
much, too fast.” One finger hooks into mine, buckling my knees with
waves of excitement.

I think I’m going to fall in love with this
man.

Trent’s gaze drifts over my outfit and I
catch the heat in it. Probably the exact same heat as in mine when
I look at him. “You look … nice.”

We’re still staring awkwardly at each other,
when Livie clears her throat. “Dinner’s ready.”

Storm’s tiny apartment pulses with a warm
current as the five of us devour Storm’s cooking. Somehow the snake
fiasco comes up and I become the butt of everyone’s jokes. Even Mia
joins in, nibbling on my shoulder like a mock- monster. Except she
has no front teeth so it’s more like gumming. And through it all, I
can’t help but constantly touch Trent’s face with my eyes to find
his on mine just as frequently.

By the time dinner is done, and we’re saying
our good-byes so Storm and I can head off to work, every fiber of
my being craves Trent and I have no interest in pretending
otherwise.

***

“Who’s Penny? Clearly someone important.” I
gesture to the sign as we pull up in front of the club.

Storm’s fingers tap her steering wheel and
her perma-smile falters. “Penny was a really nice girl who met a
really bad guy.” She turns to look at me. “Five years ago, Cain ran
a club downtown. It was a dive compared to this place. Penny was
his star attraction. I hear she brought guys in from all over the
state and into Alabama. She started dating this guy, and things got
serious. He proposed. Everyone was happy for her. He’d come watch
her dance sometimes. He’d give her little kisses and hugs
throughout the night. Watch over her a bit. You know, really sweet
stuff. Of course, he said once they were married, she’d have to
quit. She was fine with that.” Storm’s voice turns somber.

“One night, something happened. No one knows
what exactly. One second this guy has his arm around Penny, the
next, he’s dragging her to the backroom by her throat. Nate
couldn’t get there in time. He found her on the ground with a
cracked skull.”

I clutch my throat.

“I know. Terrible, right? Cain shut down that
place. There was a whole murder investigation. He bought this
location and opened under the new name, in honor of her.” We exit
the car and head toward the back door. “That’s why the bouncers are
so strict about patrons touching the staff. It doesn’t matter if
the guy’s your husband. If he touches you, he’s out. More than
once, and he’s barred for life.”

“Huh …” My thoughts drift back to last night,
when Nate kicked Trent out for holding my hand. I thought he was
being an asshole. Now, I want to hug him. Or a part of him, given
I’d need a ladder and extendable arms to get around his mammoth
size.