Out of Breath (Breathing, #3)(82)

Her cries were muffled in the pillow, and I could see her body quiver. In that moment of pause, I knew which side would win. It always would. I moved closer and pulled her in to me, shushing her tears away. She cried against my chest as I wrapped her in my arms and tried to assuage her guilt. The guilt that broke my heart two years ago. The guilt that I would have to fight in order to save us both.





26


Letting Go


I PRESSED MY NOSE AGAINST HER HAIR AND inhaled the soft, clean scent. I’d been listening to Emma breathe since she drifted to sleep. I knew the sun was up on the other side of the curtains, and she’d probably be waking soon. Sleep never happened for me. The rest of my night was spent reliving every second of our life together – trying to find the moment she started to slip away from me. And I kept coming back to Jonathan.

She’d sought me out last night, obviously nervous, to provide me with the answer to the question. That answer still echoed in my head – she’d left to protect me. So she wouldn’t keep hurting me.

Emma had always had a different way of processing the world and her place in it. I knew pretty much from the beginning that she was going to be a challenge to understand. But that was one of the things that drew me to her. I wanted to understand, to figure her out.

And she’d been letting me in, a question at a time. It was what I’d always wanted from her. I didn’t get what was different now, other than the guilt. The guilt had absolutely changed her.

I looked down at her, wrapping my arm around her waist. She looked so different. It was more than the short hair and thin frame. She seemed so … delicate. My body could surround hers easily, shielding her from whatever harm sought her. But what waited to destroy her was on the inside. And I’d been witnessing the progression of that destruction since the moment I saw her staring out the window of the funeral home.

I didn’t know how to save her from herself. I felt helpless. A feeling that didn’t sit well with me – but one I’d experienced too often when it came to Emma Thomas. Her question plagued me – how many times did I have to keep coming back to be hurt by her before I’d had enough?

I pulled her to me and inhaled her again. ‘But how do I let you go, Emma?’ I whispered into her hair. I still didn’t know the whole truth.

I leaned over her and pushed the loose strands back to see her face. She looked so peaceful, with her dark lashes hiding the torment that lay beneath. I admired her sloping nose and her soft full lips. I could never get over how beautiful she was.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ I murmured just as my phone vibrated on top of the loose change spread on the nightstand. I rolled back quickly and silenced it, afraid it would wake her, but she didn’t move.

Have you seen Emma? I woke up and she’s not here. And she’s not answering her phone.

I picked up the phone lying next to Emma and pushed the display button; the screen remained blank.

I responded to Sara’s text. She’s here. Her phone’s dead.

I draped my arm back around Emma, about to actually try to fall asleep, when my phone vibrated again. I’m coming to get her.

I sighed, knowing Sara wouldn’t stop at the door unless I intercepted her, and I didn’t want to hear it from her if she jumped to conclusions about what happened last night. As much as it killed me to do so, I moved away from Emma and rolled off the bed. I covered her with a blanket and dragged my body upstairs. I was hoping I’d be able to put Sara at ease quickly so I could return to bed before Emma woke.

I rolled onto my back when the door clicked shut.

He was letting me go.

I hadn’t thought it was possible to be any more broken. I exhaled the little air that was left in my lungs and stared at the ceiling. I needed to leave before he came back. I couldn’t face him.

I pushed back the blanket and sat up, shoving myself off the bed. Without looking back, I slipped out the sliding glass door and picked up my shoes on the patio before heading towards the beach.

‘Wow, you look like hell,’ Brent quipped when I appeared in the kitchen.

I ran a hand through my hair and grumbled, ‘Thanks.’

Ren was peeling an orange on the counter. ‘Rough night?’

‘Where’d you disappear to last night?’ I asked, avoiding his question. ‘I swear I didn’t see you for more than a minute.’

‘Met some buddies down on the beach,’ he answered. This was code for: we sat around, talked surfing, and got high all night.

‘So you ditched the party?’ Brent clarified. Ren shrugged lazily.

‘Wanna go surfing?’

‘I’m leaving for the airport in a couple of hours,’ I told him.

‘I’ll go,’ Brent agreed, true to form.

Nate appeared on the stairs, his body moving clumsily and his eyes almost completely closed. I was half convinced he was sleepwalking until he muttered, ‘Fuck. This place is a disaster.’ The house smelled of stale beer and was wrecked, with cups and trash everywhere – the typical after-party effects. I’d seen worse.

‘We’ll pick up the trash,’ Brent assured him. ‘What time is the cleaning crew getting here?’

‘Noon.’ Nate yawned, rubbing his face with both hands.

The front door shook with loud, banging knocks. ‘Holy f*ck! Who the hell is that?’ Nate held the sides of his head, pressing it together like the loud noise might split it open.