Ten Tiny Breaths (24 page)

“He could have killed you, Nora,” Dan yells.
“Forget the money. You don’t need the money.”

Storm’s voice isn’t nearly as loud or
booming, but I manage to hear it all the same.

“You think I spent all those years training
with a place like Penny’s as my goal? I screwed up, Dan. I made bad
choices and I have to live with them. For now. For Mia.”

“Mia is who I’m thinking about. What if that
guy killed you tonight? Who would take care of her? Her father?
From prison?” There’s a quiet moment and then Dan starts yelling
again. “I don’t know if I can do this, Nora. I can’t be afraid
you’re going to die every time you go to work.”

I snort. “Look who’s talking,” I mutter to
myself, but then I bite my tongue. This is between them.

“Well, I’m not making decisions based on what
some man wants because when you’re gone and I’m still here, I have
to live with the outcome.” I hear her voice crack at the end and I
know she’s crying. The yelling dies down and I’m glad. I don’t want
to hear Dan and Storm break up.

“Can I ask you something without you getting
angry, Kacey?” Trent asks into the darkness.

“Uh huh,” I agree without thinking.

“What do you know about the driver who hit
your car?”

My body instantly tenses. “He was drunk.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“Nothing at all? No name, face,
anything?”

I pause, deciding if I want to answer. “Name.
That’s it.”

“Do you remember it?”

I inhale sharply. I’ll never forget. “Sasha
Daniels.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died.”

There’s a long pause as Trent continues
drawing swirls on my back and I start to believe the conversation
is over.
Stupid girl
. “Was he alone?”

I hesitate but decide to answer. “He had two
friends. Derek Maynard and Cole Reynolds. Derek and Sasha weren’t
wearing seat belts. They were both thrown from their vehicle.”

My head rises and lowers with Trent’s deep
breath. “Has the survivor—this Cole guy—made contact with you?”

I close my eyes and enjoy the warmth of
Trent’s chest, fighting the dread as he drags me back into the
deep, dark place. “His family tried. I filed restraining orders and
told the police that if any of them so much as approach me or
Livie, I’d kill them all.” At the time, I was bound to a bed and
unable to move, let alone murder. Still, the cops came through with
passing the message along.

Now though, now I know I’m capable of
anything.

Of murder.

Trent’s fingers stop drawing on my back and
he hugs me protectively. “I’m going to suggest something, Kacey.
Please don’t get mad.”

I don’t answer. I just listen to his
heartbeat. I let it consume me. I feel it with every fiber of my
body.

“I think you should meet this Cole guy. Maybe
there’d be some sort of closure. You two are the only survivors of
a horrific accident. You have something in common.”

Now I sit up. I sit up and stare at Trent. I
stare at him like he’s grown five heads and set three of them on
fire and the other two are eating the flaming heads. Pacing my
racing heart and calming myself, I speak.

“I will say this once and never again.” My
voice is even. I don’t yell, I don’t cry, I don’t shake. “I do not
want to see, or talk to, or know
Cole Reynolds
.” The name
twists my mouth with distain. “It was his car that plowed into
ours. He handed his keys to his friend who then shattered my life
to smithereens. I hope wherever he is, he is suffering. I hope
everyone he loves has abandoned him. I hope he doesn’t have a dime
and has to eat cat food and maggots. I hope he goes to sleep every
night and wakes up reliving that terrible night. Reliving what
he
did to me. To Livie.” I let out a vacuous sigh and lie
back down on Trent’s chest as if unloading that sheer magnitude of
hatred is somehow liberating. “And then I hope his balls catch on
fire.” My voice is cold and hard. I don’t bother to conceal the
hatred of my words. I unleash full-heartedly. I revel in it. Hatred
good. Forgiveness bad.

Silence takes over as Trent’s arms tighten
around me, his chin resting on the top of my head. I feel a new
tension in him and I’m not surprised. I stare at the wall and
wonder just how screwed up Cole Reynolds’ life really is. I wonder
if he’s resorted to working in a strip club to give his sister the
life she deserves. I wonder if he had to abandon his dreams of
college. I wonder if he winces in pain with every rain fall because
his body is held together with metal.

But most of all, I wonder what Trent thinks
of his pretty little fucked up redhead now.

***

I wake up to an empty room and a note on my
pillow. Five words.

Had to go. I’m sorry.

I assume Trent has a new work contract.
Still, I’m disappointed. I could use another dose of his body if
he’s willing to administer. I roll out of bed and stretch, the
horror of last night at Penny’s pushed aside in favor of my
memories of a night with Trent. It’s been so long since I felt
that. Scratch that. I never felt that. Sex was never like that with
Billy. I cared deeply about him, but we were young and
inexperienced. Trent’s not inexperienced. Trent knows exactly what
he’s doing and he does it very well. And, something’s just
different with Trent. He’s like ripe watermelon after a lifetime of
thirst. He’s like air after years under water.

He’s like life.

I walk into Storm’s apartment to find Mia waiting
expectantly like a wide-mouth bass while Dan, in striped boxers no
less, tosses Cheerios into her mouth. I guess Storm and Dan made
up. Relief swells inside me. I like seeing Storm with him.

He stops the game to take me in with a
worried look. “How are you feeling today?”

“Good.” I smile as I pop a
Cheerio into my mouth. Dan doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know how
skilled I am at entombing horrid memories. I’m a master. In only
hours, it’s all but forgotten and, as long as no one brings it up,
it will stay that way. I walk over to Storm, who’s mixing batter in
a big glass bowl. “Pancakes?” She holds up a ladle.

I nod, patting my stomach. “Did you see Livie
this morning?”

Storm nods. “She left for school not long
ago.” She drops a spoonful of pancake mix onto the griddle and the
kitchen fills with the sizzling sound. She fixes me with the same
worried look that Dan just gave me. “How are you feeling,
really?”

“I’m … good. I’m better.”

“You sure? Dan knows a guy you can talk to if
it’ll help.”

I shake my head. “I’m good. Seeing you here,
alive and well, and serving me pancakes is all I need.” I rub her
back with one hand as I grab a plate of food with the other. Yup,
this is exactly what I need. Storm and Mia, and Livie and Trent.
Even Dan. This all I need right now.

***

Me:
I have the night off. You coming
over?

I wait and wait but I get no text response
from Trent. Impatient, I walk over to his apartment and knock. No
answer. His place is pitch black. Then I wander out to the commons
on a fake mission to inspect the hibachi. Really, I want to see if
Trent’s bike is there. It is. I go and knock on his door again and
wait. Still no response.

Cain won’t let either of us work that night.
In fact, he’s forced Storm to take an entire week with danger pay.
I’ll bet Dan is happy about that. By the light bounce in Storm’s
step, I think she’s okay with it too. I would be happy too. If
Trent was here.

I don’t hear from Trent the next day.

Or the next.

No text. No call. It’s like he’s dropped off
the face of the Earth.

I go back to Penny’s on the third night with
a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The music’s dull, the
lights are blinding, the customers’ annoying. It’s not the same
without Trent and Storm there and I’m miserable. I can’t even force
a smile while concentrating. I know Storm will be back in a few
days. Trent though, I feel his absence like a knife in the center
of my back. It’s painful, I can’t reach it to pull it out, and I’m
sure it will be my demise if it stays as is.

Trent being gone eats at me all week. It
makes me grouchy and snappy and generally unpleasant to be around.
I’m well aware of it, and I don’t care. It makes me start fights
with Livie on my one night off over what to watch on television. It
makes her start to cry and call me a bitch. Livie never does that.
It makes me lurk through the commons every night, casting furtive
glances at 1D. The end result is the same. Darkness. Where ever he
went, Trent’s not back.

What if he’s never coming back?

***

Day Five.

I scream in horror as I watch my parents’
Audi sink into the river, my eyes locked on the person trapped
behind the wheel.

Trent.

I’m a sweaty tangled mess in my sheets when I
come to, gasping.
It was just a dream! Oh, Thank God!
It
takes me a good fifteen minutes to shake the image scalding my
mind. Only now I can’t shake the idea. What if Trent did get into
an accident? No one would call me. I’m nobody. I haven’t had a
chance to be anybody yet.

I harass Storm to give me Dan’s number. Then
I harass him to check the police reports of a ‘Trent Emerson’ in an
accident. He tells me he can’t abuse his position like that. I snap
and slam my phone against the counter. Then I call him back and
apologize, and he concedes to bring his laptop so I can search the
news, the obits. Anything.

It’s well into the night before I accept that
Trent is probably alive and well. He’s just not with me.

***

Day Nine.

Wandering past Trent’s apartment door on my
way to the gym, I freeze. I’m sure I just caught a whiff of
something funky.

Ohmigod.

Trent’s dead.

I run to Tanner’s door and hammer on it until
it flies open. Tanner’s standing there with his standard Batman
pajama pants and deer-caught-in-the-headlight eyes. “Come on!” I
grab his arm and yank him out. “You need to open 1D right now!”

Tanner uses his weight to resist me. “Wait a
minute. I can’t just open—”

“I think Trent’s dead!” I shriek.

That gets him moving. I wait behind him with
itchy feet as he fumbles with his giant key ring, his hands
shaking. He’s bothered by this.
Of course he is
.

When he opens the door, I shove past him, not
even considering what I’m rushing in to see. It’s dim and tidy
inside. Sparse, even. I wouldn’t know someone lived there had it
not been for a laptop sitting on the desk, Trent’s navy sweater
hanging over the back of the couch, and the smell of his cologne
lingering in the air.

Tanner moves past me, and does a quick sweep
of the bedrooms and bathroom. He even opens the closet door. When
he comes back to face me, it’s with a glower. “Why exactly did you
tell me Trent was dead?”

I swallow, averting my gaze. “Oops.”

“Okay, get out of here.” He ushers me toward
the door none to gently with a hand on my shoulder. I hear him as
he lumbers away, grumbling something about drugs and hormones.

***

Day Thirteen.

Kick. Punch. Spin. Kick.

The bag takes my punishment without
complaint. I slam and pound against it, all my anger and anxiety
coming to a head. Trent has another life. That has to be it. A
tanned, blonde, unbroken woman. They probably have two perfect
little kids together who say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and haven’t
learned to swear like sailors because of their mother’s incessant
profanity. He must have run away to Miami and had a quarter-life
crisis affair. I am nothing but someone’s quarter-life crisis and I
fell for it like a mindless sap.

Kick Pivot. Spin. Kick.

This feels good.

I feel like I’m gaining control again.

Later, at Storm’s house, I sit on the couch
and watch an episode of Sponge Bob with Mia. Lying next to me on
the cushion is a dark-haired Ken doll. It kind of reminds me of
Trent. I give serious consideration to stealing it, painting
‘Trent’ over its chest, and taking a lighter to where its man parts
should be.

***

Day Seventeen.

“Was he real?” I mumble, staring at the phone
in my hand.
I didn’t buy this for myself, did I?

“What?” Livie asks, looking up at me in
surprise.

“Trent, was he real? I mean, I could
understand if he wasn’t real. Who could be that beautiful and sweet
and perfect and want someone as fucked up as me?”

There’s a long pause and when I look over at
Livie, she’s staring at me like I swallowed a bag of broken glass.
I can tell she’s worried about me. Storm’s worried about me too. I
think even Nate is worried.

***

Day Twenty.

Kick. Punch. Punch. Kick.

I’m raging against the bag.

Trent used me. To what sick end, I can’t
decide. He obviously has a twisted fetish. He found a damaged woman
and targeted her weakness with his dimples and his charm. He broke
through my shell, wormed his way in to melt the ice over my heart.
Then he abandoned me after uncovering just how fucked up I really
am. But not before getting laid, of course.

And I let him in. It’s my fault! I’m the
idiot.

I pound away on the twenty pound bag of sand.
I love the sand. It absorbs all my emotions without disapproval and
lets me use it without expectation.

“Angry about something?”

I whip around to find Ben standing behind me
with his arms folded over his chest and a knowing smirk on his
face. I turn back and execute a perfect kick. “Not at all.”

Ben walks around to catch the bag. He
gestures as if to tell me to continue while he holds. “Where’s your
boyfriend?”