Unbroken (13 page)

“Brody,” I whisper. “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head, gasping for air like a fish taking it’s last breath on land. I realize for a moment that my hand is still on his chest, and I make a movement to pull away, but suddenly his hand is on top of mine and clutching it in a death grip.

“Can’t…breathe,” he gasps on a startled sigh.

I scramble over to him, straddling his lap. Sliding my hand from its place above his heart, I place each hand tenderly on either side of his face. I look him straight in the eyes. “In and out, Brody. It’s easy. Come on. Take a deep breath in.” I watch as he struggles to do so, but he does it nonetheless. “Now exhale slowly.” He does, and his eyes flash with panic. “Again, please. You can do it.”

His hand comes up to hold me in place, and he licks his lips quickly. “Talk to me. Tell me…something.”

I rack my brain for something, an amusing story from my childhood or recent adolescence to pull him from the harrowing throes of whatever nightmare he just suffered. I know I can’t just tell him anything, because I want him to forget about his pain, if even for a moment, or however long my story’s going to take.

I clear my throat and give him a halfhearted smile.

“When I was ten, a couple of my friends were teaching me how to double dutch. I never knew how, and I was always afraid to learn, because I was afraid of getting hit by the rope. They’re teaching me how to play, how to jump in, how to jump once I’m between the ropes. Well, my one friend tells me that once the top rope is at its highest arch, I should jump in, and immediately start hopping, just to get started. I do this about two or three times and I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Well, on my fourth try, halfway through me jumping, one of them hits me in the face with the rope. It’s precisely what I was afraid of. I was fuming, and my face hurt, and I have such smooth, pale skin that I was pissed about potential bruising. And I really couldn’t tell whose fault it was, which one of them was the one responsible for hitting me. So you wanna know what I did?” He nods, and I take his encouragement and run with it. “I snatch a rope out of one of their hands, and I start whacking the both of them with it. Later on, in the principal’s office, my mom asks me why I hit them both. So I say, ‘At least I know I got the right one.’”

A rugged laugh escapes his mouth and he shakes his head in disbelief. I pull away from him as he continues to chuckle, letting my hands fall to my sides. I maneuver myself so that I’m now beside him rather than on top of him. I run my fingers through my hair and watch him calm himself down. I cross my legs, looking at him and reveling in the sound of his laughter.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He stops laughing abruptly, and I watch the haunted look return to his eyes. “No.” His response is breathless and sad, and he grabs my hand, pulling me close again. “Sabrina, will you…will you stay?”

I nod, wrapping my arm around his middle and guiding him back into a lying position. I rest my head in the crook of his neck, and I wait until his breathing slows to a more normal pace before I let the iron grip on my heart release.

I stare up at the ceiling, stricken, panicked, and saddened, my eyes spilling over with tears as I struggle to process how beautiful and broken this boy is.

TEN

DARK LOCKS SPLAY ACROSS MY CHEST, and the sound of steady breathing a few inches away is what I wake up to this morning. We’re all wrapped up in one another, a tangled mess of limbs, hair, and sheets. I can’t even describe how good it feels to wake up next to her. I’m ecstatic.

I had the intention of sneaking away to the grocery store so I could make everyone breakfast today, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. As badly as I need to get out of this bed, I don’t really want to. There’s a serenity in her expression that I’ve never seen before, and everywhere her body touches mine, a spark is ignited. It’s a strange feeling, having a girl I
haven’t
had sex with in my bed.

What’s more is, whenever I spent the night with Michele or with Belinda, I never actually
slept
with them. After one horrifying nightmare while I slept in Michele’s arms and waving it off as having to do with Mom, I would stay awake all night and watch them sleep. I couldn’t bear to have them see me in my weakest moment.

But Sabrina’s presence, her soothing touch, her
hilarious
story from her childhood lulled me into a sense of security. I was asleep within minutes, and it was the first peaceful sleep I’ve had in
years
. It was quiet, dreamless, and I slept through the entire night.

I stare down at her, trying to conjure a way to thank her for all she’s done. I tighten my hold on her, taking a deep breath. I spend what feels like forever etching every inch of her features into my memory.

Freckles kiss the apples of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, a beauty mark near her right cheek, long, dark lashes fanning her face as they flutter open, and stunning brown eyes peer at me through hooded lids. A sleepy smile dances across her face as she stretches, never letting go of me.

“Hi,” I say, cautious.

“Oh, don’t play innocent with your sweet little ‘hi’,” she chastises. “I could feel you staring at me.”

Embarrassment floods me and I turn away, unable to look her in the eye any longer. With a hand to my cheek, she guides my face back toward her and her smile disappears.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s cute, really, if you’re into the whole Edward-Cullen-stalker thing.”

I laugh. Unfortunately, I know that reference. She’s sweet, and beautiful, strikingly so. And she’s funny without even trying to be. I can’t even help myself. Before I know it, I’m leaning forward, pushing her hair away from her face, and pressing a kiss to her forehead. She closes her eyes the minute my lips touch her skin, and she flushes adorably.

“How’d you sleep?” I ask.

“Like a baby.” She runs her fingers over my abdomen and up to my chest. “I should be asking you that question, though, don’t you think?”

My heart clenches at the undisguised concern lacing her voice. I shrug, and she narrows her eyes. She’s so cute when she’s annoyed with me. Her nose wrinkles up and her eyebrows furrow together, and she gives me a look that could probably kill.

“I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

We lie there enveloped in each other for a few moments before she disentangles herself from me. She sits up, crosses her legs, and closes her eyes.

“We should get downstairs before one of my parents comes up here looking for us. It’ll get
ugly
if they find out we slept together on your first night here.”

I nod, completely agreeing with her. I still haven’t even
met
her dad yet, and I wouldn’t want him to meet me wrapped up in bed with his little girl. I know I can’t exactly do the breakfast thing I hoped for, but maybe there’s another way I can say thank you to the Matteos for allowing me and my family to stay here. I want them to know I appreciate what they’re doing for us more than words could ever say.

She climbs out of the bed and tiptoes for the door, so I sit up and whisper her name. She turns to me, mouth agape.

“Thank you for all of this.”

She waves her hand at me like it’s nothing, but I shake my head. Getting to my feet, I walk over to her and give her the biggest hug I can muster. I feel her tense, but finally, she relaxes. Her arms come up to wrap around me, and we seemingly melt against one another. I pour all my gratitude and appreciation into this hug, on the hope that she’ll feel just how much what she’s done means to me.

“Meet me downstairs in ten minutes.” Her arms drop to her sides and she presses her lips to my jaw.

A moment later, she’s gone.

I close the door, backing away until I feel the backs of my legs hit the bed. I throw myself back and stare up at the ceiling.

So much has changed since this time yesterday, it’s insane. I lean over to the side, reaching for the bedside table where I set my phone. The first thing I have to do is call Mama Quinn and let her know where I am. I promised her I would let her know once we got into the house, and I never even got to because everything went south the minute we set foot in there.

I wince when I unlock my phone and see the incredulous amount of text messages, phone calls, and voicemail messages I’ve gotten from her alone.

I dial her number, but she doesn’t answer. Once that’s realized, I go through the rest of my call logs and realize that Nickayla has been blowing me up even more than her mother has. I hope to God Mama hasn’t told her what’s been going on with me, because Nic has more than enough to deal with already. She doesn’t need to worry about me.

When I call Nickayla, it’s always the same: she answers on the second ring, every time, without fail.

“Hey, B,” she says, whispering into the receiver. It’s interesting, because she’s never acted like she had to hide the fact that she’s talking to me. But this time, she is. She sounds quiet, and incredibly distraught.

“What’s wrong?” I’m worried about her. She’s the kind of person who holds everything in, and no one would ever know if there’s something going on with her. “Is everything okay?”

Even without seeing her, I know she’s shaking her head. She’s been my best friend since birth, so I know when she’s upset.

“No. Um, Colin’s dad passed away yesterday.” My heart drops at the same time as my mind jumps for joy. Colin’s dad was the same as mine, save for the fact that his father didn’t need to get completely wasted to fuck Colin up. He was a sober asshole. “He’s going through a…a really rough time. He’s hurt, B. Could you come over soon and…I dunno. Could you talk to him?”

Nickayla’s like my female counterpart, my little sister. I know her like the back of my hand. When she speaks, I don’t listen to the words she says. I listen to the words she
doesn’t
. She’s not saying that she needs me. She’s not saying she wants me to talk to him because he won’t talk to her. She’s not saying how much it’s hurting
her,
only that it’s hurting
him
. I know how hard it is for her to even ask for help, because I’m the same way.

“Yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks, B. I love you.”

Within an hour, I’m fully dressed and heading downstairs. Dalis is engrossed in a conversation with Grace, and Bianca has her legs crossed, reading a book. Sabrina is seated at the kitchen table, nuzzling Mila. They both grin at me at the same time, and my heart stops.

“Good morning,” I say to the girls, and when Sabrina looks up at me, her gaze falls on something behind me. I turn around and am face to face with who I assume to be Mr. Matteo. “Good morning, sir.”

He’s incredibly intimidating, despite the fact he has a welcoming smile on his face. He’s Sabrina’s dad, so I’m likely always going to be afraid of him.

“Good morning. You must be Brody.” His hand extends like he wants me to shake it, so I do so reluctantly. “My wife’s told me quite a bit about you.”

I want to groan, because I’ve no way of knowing precisely what his wife told him. But he’s Sabrina’s father, and I want to make a good first impression on him. He kisses each of his daughters, starting with Bianca and ending with Mila. He looks up at me expectantly, and I smile.

“Sir, I’d like to thank you and your wife for extending your hands to my siblings and I. We’ve had a rough few years, and we don’t get a leg up very often. So I want you to know how much we appreciate you and your family giving us one.”

He nods, taking a seat between two of his daughters. “Well, we’re always happy to help those who need it. My wife’s out walking the dogs, but as I understand it, she wants to take you and your siblings by the bakery this weekend sometime.”

I turn to glance at Sabrina, and, red-faced, she gives me a smile. “Mom owns Ana’s Sweeties. It’s not huge, but she has three locations so far. One back in L.A., one in Riverside, and now one in Harlow. That’s where the cake was from last night.”

I think back to last night, and all the amazement that came with it. Sabrina changed my life last night and I’m not sure she even knows how much. She did it just by being herself, by caring for me without having any obligations to help me. Although I’m still having a hard time accepting that anyone in the world could possibly care for me, I’m going to try to believe she does.