Out of Breath (Breathing, #3)(92)

‘I needed to clear my head,’ I explained evasively.

‘What were you running away from, Emma?’ he asked, seeing right through my answer.

‘Me,’ I answered honestly, avoiding his gaze. He waited for me to continue. I took a deep breath and said, ‘I don’t want the past to define me any more. I don’t want what happened to me, or all the wrong decisions I’ve made, to keep me from becoming someone better. I want to be better.’

Evan didn’t say a word, but my heart thrust against my chest when I felt the warmth of his hand slide over mine in the cool sand. The simple gesture made my eyes glisten with tears, and I leaned my head against his arm.

‘And did you leave it behind you, Emma? Did you run fast enough?’ he asked quietly.

‘I don’t know.’ I paused a moment. ‘But I don’t want to look back to find out. I’d rather keep moving into the future, and be grateful that I have one.’

His hand squeezed mine.

‘Dude!’ I heard Nate yell, spinning both our heads around. ‘I can see you! If you’re going to take a piss, do it far enough away so I don’t have to see your ass.’

My mouth opened in amused disbelief. I whipped my head around before I accidentally saw whoever was offending Nate.

‘Sorry about that,’ Evan offered with a shake of his head.

‘It’s fine,’ I assured him, laughing lightly. ‘It’s actually kinda funny.’

‘Evan!’ Brent hollered from behind us, ‘I’m starving.’

I rose gingerly onto my raw feet, my muscles stiff and sore. Evan took the sleeping bag from me and haphazardly folded it in his arms.

‘Of course you are!’ he yelled back. He looked down at me and asked, ‘Hungry?’ I nodded. ‘Do you need help walking?’

I shook my head as I took deliberate steps towards the makeshift camp. I eyed the stairs as we got closer, uncertain how I was going to manage. Evan caught me sizing up the climb and was about to say something when Brent said, ‘Wow, Emma, you look amazing in the morning.’

‘Really, Brent?’ Evan challenged.

Brent laughed, knowing exactly what he was doing. Evan pulled Brent’s sleeping bag out from under him, dumping him on the sand. Nate chuckled in his broken morning voice while Brent jumped up quickly, his legs in a charging stance with his arms spread. I was prepared for him to tackle Evan to the ground.

Evan raised his eyebrows in warning. ‘You sure about that? You do it, and you don’t get to eat anything I cook.’ Brent lingered in his crouched position for a moment of contemplation, before he finally relented and stood up.

‘Fine, but I can still do this,’ he responded with a devilish gleam and rushed up behind me, sweeping my feet out from under me. I yelled out in surprise when I fell back in his arms. Brent practically ran to the stairs, looking over his shoulder in expectation of Evan’s retaliation. Evan rolled his eyes and continued to calmly gather the sleeping bags.

As we started up the stairs, Brent looked down at me with a sparkling smile, ‘Good morning, Emma.’

I laughed and responded, ‘Good morning, Brent. Are you really going to carry me all the way to the house?’

‘As long as I know it’s going to piss Evan off, then yes,’ he replied with a devious smirk. ‘Besides, this is the most I’ll ever get to touch you again.’

‘He’s just trying to piss you off,’ Nate said, rolling up a sleeping bag.

‘I know,’ I said gruffly, looking after Brent cradling Emma in his arms.

Ren groaned in his sleep and rolled over, completely unaffected by the commotion. TJ grabbed the cooler and trudged up the stairs, still looking half asleep.

‘Will you make waffles, Evan?’ he grumbled as I followed behind him.

I smiled at his request. ‘Yes, TJ, I’ll make waffles.’

I watched Emma laugh at something Brent said, which could have been just about anything that came out of his mouth. I reflected upon her brief moment of honesty while we were alone on the beach. Although she’d shared more than she would have if I’d asked the same question two years ago, her cryptic answer was still disconcerting. But she was trying, and everything about that felt right.

‘Do you have any houses on the beach, with at least three bedrooms?’ Emma asked after viewing the second small house on the realtor’s list. Emma continued to scowl at the tiny cottage set on a side street, about a mile from the water.

I saw judgement pass across the agent’s face as she eyed the thick white socks and sandals on Emma’s feet. But Emma didn’t seem to care what she looked like as she awaited the answer.

‘Well, I do –’ the realtor smoothed the crisp linen of her sleeveless blue dress and answered slowly –‘but I’m afraid it may be well above your price point.’

‘Really?’ Emma responded in amusement. ‘I’d like to see it.’ I was surprised by her tenacity.

‘All right, then.’ The realtor sighed, flipped her folder shut and led the way out of the house.

‘What was that about?’ I asked when we got into Nate’s pick-up truck.

‘What do you mean?’ Emma asked, although she knew exactly what I was talking about. ‘I want to be on the water.’ I let out a short laugh as we followed the gold Mercedes down the street.