Out of Breath (Breathing, #3)(81)

‘A little,’ I repeated. The shots having done their job.

‘That’s kinda good,’ she said, biting at her full lower lip, which was making it really difficult not to look at it.

‘Why’s that?’

‘It’ll make it easier,’ she responded cryptically. She was going to make me pull it out of her, I could tell. I took a shallow breath, recognizing I needed to draw on my patience.

‘Make what easier?’ I asked gently.

‘Can we, umm, shut off the lights?’ she asked suddenly, taking me by surprise.

‘I suppose,’ I said in confusion, ‘but then we’ll be standing in the dark.’

I frowned at my patheticness. How was I supposed to talk to him without looking at him? And I couldn’t look at him if he didn’t put a shirt on.

Before I changed my mind or asked if he’d put a shirt on, which I knew was going to sound even more ridiculous, Evan offered, ‘We could sit on the bed … in the dark … if you want, so then, well … what did you come here for, Emma?’

I couldn’t breathe. I nodded and moved towards the bed, not answering his question. My mind was swirling with panic, and I couldn’t form a cohesive sentence. I was going to pass out before I even uttered a single word, and then all the courage I’d mustered to walk up here would be for nothing.

I plopped down on the bed and waited for Evan to shut off the light.

I clicked the light off and noticed she was lying on the bed instead of sitting. I scooted onto the bed beside her. She was perfectly still, with her head on the pillow across from me. It was too dark to see her face, but I could hear her quick breaths, like she was getting all worked up. I knew her brain must be in overdrive, figuring out what to do next.

‘Better?’ I asked in a whisper.

‘Yeah,’ Emma answered quickly. After a moment, my eyes adjusted to the dark. The glow seeping through the curtain provided enough light for me to see her silhouette.

Emma shifted on her back and began playing with her hands like she did when she was nervous. I waited. She remained silent. Eventually, she turned back on her side to face me, a little closer than she was before. I could feel her breath on my lips.

‘Are you still kinda drunk?’ she asked softly, making me laugh.

‘Kinda,’ I replied. She was silent again. ‘Why?’

‘Are you more honest when you’re kinda drunk?’

‘Umm … I suppose,’ I answered, intrigued by where this was headed.

‘Me too,’ she spouted nervously. ‘Will you tell me one thing that you normally wouldn’t say to me if you weren’t kinda drunk, so that I know that you are?’

I smiled at her request. ‘Okay,’ I could feel my body respond to her closeness, and drew in a breath. ‘I’d really like to kiss you,’ I whispered, my heart thumping louder.

Her breathing faltered as I reached over and ran my hand along her cheek.

I closed my eyes to his touch, unable to breathe properly. I actually wasn’t convinced I was breathing at all. ‘I don’t want you to kiss me,’ I said in a whisper, my heart contradicting my words with its frantic fluttering.

‘Okay,’ he responded, pulling his hand away.

I almost regretted saying it as the warmth of his touch disappeared, but I forced myself to focus, and said, ‘Because … I came here … to tell you something.’

He was quiet. Almost too quiet. I was about to lose my nerve when he murmured, ‘I’m listening.’

I took a breath of courage and said, ‘I left to protect you.’

Evan was quiet again. I could see his outline in the dark, watching his shoulder rise and fall as he breathed evenly. ‘From what?’

‘Me,’ I said, my voice catching. I had convinced myself I could tell him, to give him the answer he wanted most, and do it without breaking down. But I knew now that wasn’t going to be possible.

‘I don’t understand,’ he responded, his voice cautious.

‘I think I’m doing the right thing. But I never do. Every decision I’ve made to protect the people I care about has been wrong. And I only end up hurting them.’ My throat closed in around those last words.

This is what we do. We hurt people.

I fought to regain my composure. ‘How many times did I have to hurt you, Evan? How many times were you going to keep coming back so I could do it again?’ I inhaled a quick breath as the tears broke the barrier and rolled over the bridge of my nose, soaking into the pillow. ‘I was doing to you the same thing my mother did to me. And I couldn’t let you keep coming back for more. I couldn’t continue to hurt you. The only way to save you was to leave.’

The admission that I was as destructive as my mother twisted my heart. I never wanted to be her. But more of her ran through my veins than I ever wanted to admit. And I needed to push him away before I left him as broken and empty as I’d become.

I tucked my face into the pillow so he wouldn’t hear my jagged breaths. My entire body tightened against the ache that crept through my muscles. Honesty hurt.

His silence slowly tortured me as my body shook next to him.

I didn’t know what to say. I clenched my jaw as I fought not to touch her, unsure if I should. The muscles along my back were rigid with an anger that I could not deny. I was at conflict with two emotions: the one that wanted to comfort her and keep her from hurting, and the one that was furious that she’d left me, making me suffer all this time without ever taking into account what she was truly doing to me.