Out of Breath (Breathing, #3)(52)

‘Oh, no, no, no,’ I repeated, shaking my head. The room started to spin, and I couldn’t hold my head up any longer. I collapsed back against the pillow. That’s when I saw his silhouette at the door. ‘I’m not supposed to be here,’ I cried. ‘I’m not supposed to be in yesterday.’

‘I know,’ Sara whispered gently, smoothing my hair behind my ear. ‘It’ll be okay. I’m right down the hall if you need me.’

I fought to keep my eyes open, to insist that she take me away. But I couldn’t think. I needed to stop the spinning. I shut my eyes.

Sara sat by Emma’s side for a moment longer to make certain she was truly asleep. Then she whipped around and stared at me angrily. I ducked back into the hall.

Sara closed the door behind her and turned towards me. ‘I told you this was a horrible idea.’ She ran her hands over her face, suddenly looking exhausted. ‘Why did I let you talk me into this? This is the last thing she needs.’

‘The last thing she needs? What the hell happened to her, Sara?! How could you let her drink?!’ I spat fiercely.

‘What? I know you’ve taken the last two years out on me, but don’t you dare blame me for this! If you brought her here to get back at her in some way, then we’ll leave! I won’t let you f*ck her up any more than she already is, Evan!’

I bowed my head. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’ I inhaled deeply, trying to calm the anger that kept my muscles straining. ‘And I’m not doing this to hurt her.’

Sara released a tense breath.

‘Has she talked to you about it?’ I asked cautiously. ‘Rachel’s suicide?’

‘Does she ever say anything?’ Sara countered with an exasperated sigh. ‘And we haven’t told her the details yet. She wasn’t exactly … with it when I picked her up from the airport yesterday.’

‘So this drinking thing isn’t new?’ I enquired, studying Sara’s blue eyes as she avoided mine, seeing more than she was saying. ‘Do you think she has a problem?’

‘A drinking problem?’ Sara shrugged. ‘Evan, Emma has a life problem.’ She shook her head and started to turn away. ‘I shouldn’t be talking to you about this anyway.’

‘Why not?’ I challenged her. ‘Why can’t I know? Don’t I deserve at least that much? Tell me what happened to her, Sara!’

Sara looked back over her shoulder, her sad eyes brimming with tears. ‘She’s just … broken.’ Her voice cracked. ‘And I’m not sure how to help her.’ She turned away with her shoulders slumped forward, disappearing behind the guest-room door. I remained standing in the hall, looking after her, allowing everything she’d just said to echo through my head.

My fists clenched, I fought the pain and anger coursing through me. I turned towards Emma’s door and set my hands on either side of the door, bowing my head. ‘I don’t understand. Why’d you leave with him, Emma?’ I whispered, then walked towards my room at the end of the hall.

I lay on my bed most of the night with my hands folded behind my head, staring at the dark ceiling, trying to decide what I was going to do when the sun pushed us all into a new day.

I squinted my eyes open. The room was still dark. I considered closing them again, but I had to go to the bathroom. I groaned and pushed the thick blankets back. I was in Evan’s house. In the guest room with the flowers. Shit. I groaned again and eased out of the bed. My feet pressed against the cool wooden floor.

I knew exactly where the bathroom was without having to turn on the light, although my legs weren’t very steady with the vodka still pumping through my system.

When I came back out, I stared at the bed.

How’s your knee?

You did not come in here to ask me about my knee.

I could practically feel his hand slide across my leg.

There was no way I was getting back in that bed.

I crept along the floorboards and eased the door open, peeking out into the hall. It was dark and quiet. I paused in front of his door. My heart convulsed at the sight of it.

‘I shouldn’t be here.’ I muttered as I continued past it and down the spiral staircase.

The stairs creaked on the other side of my door. I sat up and listened. She was awake. I slid off my bed, careful not to make any sound. I thought I heard her talking, but it was so faint I could have imagined it.

Opening the door slightly, I saw her shadow disappear below the landing, down the hall. I followed her.

The familiar scents of the Mathews home filled my senses, and my heart betrayed me with a flutter. I needed out of this house. Now.

I entered the kitchen and unlocked the door that led out onto the back porch. The breeze rustled the tall blades of grass that stretched across the back yard to the woods. As soon as I turned towards the steps, my vision filled with the magnificence of the large oak tree. And there, rocking from its branch, was the swing.

My throat tightened as a small gasp escaped. I blinked back the tears and let the damp grass brush against my bare feet, drawn to the tree. I ran my hand along the coarse bark and searched up through the branches that danced above my head, the light wind rushing through them.

‘I’ve always loved this tree,’ I heard myself say aloud, comforted by its touch.

I’ve always loved that tree, I thought to myself as I watched her run her fingers around the trunk. Her eyes lifted to take it all in. She had always connected with that tree too, making it the perfect location for the swing I’d made for her.