Ten Tiny Breaths (Ten Tiny Breaths #1)(10)

I cringe as I catch Livie’s unimpressed glare. “I get one, okay?” I say, looking for a way to excuse myself. I’ll have to watch my language if Mia’s going to be hanging around.

Mia’s head cocks to one side, likely considering my logic. Then, like any good five year old’s limited attention span, my heinous infraction is quickly forgotten. She smiles and announces, “You guys are coming over for brunch. Not breakfast and not lunch.”

Now it’s my turn to glare at Livie. “Are we now?”

Lowering her brow, Livie gets up and comes to my side. “You said you’d try,” she reminds me in a low whisper so Mia doesn’t overhear.

“I said I’d be nice. I didn’t say I’d swap muffin recipes with the neighbors,” I respond, trying hard not to growl.

I get an eye roll. “Stop being dramatic. Storm’s cool. I think you’ll like her if you’d stop avoiding her. And all other living creatures.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve graciously served over a thousand cups of coffee this week to living creatures. Some questionable ones too.”

Crossing her arms, Livie’s glare flattens, but she doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not avoiding people.” Yes, I am. Everyone, including Barbie. And Dimples next door. Definitely him. I’m sure I’ve spotted his lean frame watching out the window as I came home at night a few times, but I ducked my head and sped past, my insides constricting at the thought of seeing him face to face again.

“Really? ’Cause Storm sure thinks you are. She came out to talk to you the other day, and you rushed into the apartment like lightning before she could say ‘hi.’”

I hide behind another sip of juice. Busted. I totally did that. I heard her door unlock and the beginnings of a “Hello, Kacey,” and I hurried to shut our apartment door.

“I am like lightning. Lightning Girl has a nice ring to it,” I say.

Livie watches as I scan the meager contents of our fridge and my stomach protests with a perfectly-timed growl. We agreed to spend as little as possible until I had a pay check or two in the bank so we’ve been living off no-name Cheerios and bologna sandwiches for more than a week. Given I need more calories than the average twenty year old to function, it’s left me sluggish. I guess offering to feed us earns Storm at least five points in the potential friend bank.

My tongue slides over my top teeth. “Fine.”

Livie’s face brightens. “That’s a yes?”

I shrug, acting nonchalant. Inside, panic is rising. Livie’s getting too attached to these people. Attachments are bad. Attachments lead to hurt. I make a face. “As long as she’s not making bologna.”

She giggles and I know it’s more than my lame joke. She knows I’m trying, and that makes her happy.

I change the subject. “How’s your new school, by the way?” I’d worked the afternoon shift all week so we haven’t talked once, besides a few kitchen counter notes.

“Oh … right.” Livie’s face pales like she’s seen a ghost. She reaches for her backpack, with a glance back to see Mia busy playing her own card game at the table. “I checked my email account at school,” she explains as she hands me a piece of paper.

My back stiffens. I knew this was coming.

Dearest Olivia,

I assume that sister of yours has convinced you to run off. I can’t possibly understand why but I hope you are safe. Please send me a message to let me know where you are. I will come get you and bring you home, where your parents want you to be. That will make them happy.

I am not upset with you. You are a sheep led astray by a wolf.

Please let me bring you home. Your uncle and I miss you terribly.

Love,

Aunt Darla

Heat erupts like a volcano inside as my blood boils. Not about the wolf comment. I don’t care about that. She’s called me worse. What I do care about is her using our parents as a guilt trip, knowing full well it’d hurt Livie. “You didn’t respond, did you?”

Livie shakes her head solemnly.

“Good,” I push through clenched teeth, crumpling the note into a tight ball. “Delete your account. Get a new one. Don’t ever respond to her. Not once, Livie.”

“Okay, Kacey.”

“I mean it!” I hear Mia’s tiny gasp and I quickly temper my tone. “We don’t need them in our lives.”

There’s a long pause. “She’s not a bad person. She means well.” Livie’s voice turns soft. “You didn’t exactly make things easy for her.”

I push down the lump of guilt forming at the back of my throat, rivaling to take over my anger. “I know that, Livie. I do, really. But Aunt Darla’s way of ‘meaning well’ doesn’t work for us.” My hands move to rub my forehead. I’m no idiot. For the first year after the accident, I put all my effort, focus, and thought into fixing my body so I could move again. Once released, my focus moved on to shoving the memories of my former life into a bottomless well. There were impossible days though—holidays, birthday, and the like—and I quickly learned that alcohol and drugs, while capable of destroying lives, also had magical powers; the power to dull pain. More and more I relied on those weapons against the constant and overwhelming rush of water swelling over my head, threatening to drown me.