Breathe In (Just Breathe, #1)(88)

Breaking my moment of bliss, Jared mentions, “You smell different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, you just smell different,” he repeats.

“Good different or bad different?” I search.

“Just different.”

“It’s probably from being in Joe’s bed,” I suggest.

The realization sets in. I don’t smell like Joe’s bed, I smell like Joe.

“That’s it,” he verifies.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I accuse.

“Tell you what?” he returns, clueless of my statement.

“About where Joe lives?”

“I didn’t know until he texted me Friday. I thought you knew,” Jared answers.

“Do you think I would have packed to stay the night if I did?” I press.

“Good point,” he concurs. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I excuse.

I’m not mad at Jared, only surprised by the fact that Joe lives less than a mile away from me.

“It shouldn’t matter. He’s a friend,” he adds.

“Yeah,” I acknowledge.

I don’t really agree, but I don’t want to give away that it does bother me.

We snuggle for a long time and at some point I start crying — I haven’t cried in a while. I’ve missed him, I miss my Jared. We see each other every week, but I miss waking up and going to bed with him every day. I miss our old apartment. I miss — my parents. I remember what they look like because I have photos in my bedroom. What I really miss are their voices — their smell most of all. My heart breaks knowing that I can’t remember that about them. Jared is the only smell and sound left that I have that gives me the feeling of home.

“What’s wrong, Kitten?” Jared whispers.

“Nothing,” I weep.

“Tell me,” he encourages. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

“I don’t remember what they sound like or how they smell. I’ve lost so many memories with them,” I sob.

“What do you remember?” he prompts.

“You. Your eyes when we met. Your voice. Your smell. You’re home,” I say.

“And I always will be,” he assures, squeezing me tighter. “But, you will need to find your own home with someone else. Like I have with Nathan.”

His words hurt.

“So it is serious,” I state.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I will never leave you. You’re home to me too, but Nathan is also home now too.”

“There’s too much changing. I don’t like it,” I confess.

“Change isn’t good or bad. It just depends on how you look at it.”

“When did you get so philosophical?” I tease.

“Not long after I met you,” he pokes.

I jab him in his ribs.

“Shhh. Quit talking. I need my beauty sleep,” Nathan whines.

Jared and I both fling our bodies, dog-piling Nathan until he surrenders.

By nine, everyone is up and in the dining room having breakfast. We’re out the door and piled into Maggie’s and Jared’s Teslas twenty minutes before our scheduled jump time. A newer trampoline facility just opened up over in Glendale off of Colorado Boulevard, so we don’t have far to drive.

Jimmy and Allen groan the entire drive home and during lunch. After bellies are full from another tasty meal prepared by Anna, everyone seeks out a nap in their designated rooms. Used to the rigorous workout and being well rested, I elect to grab a book and read on the couch. Sadie snuggles up in her usual position with her head on my belly.


A few more pages into reading my book and Joe comes into the living room. He positions himself down the center of the couch resting his shoulders against the same pillow as me. During the next two hours, Joe purposefully bumps into my right arm with his left as he turns a page or changes how he holds his book. He is dying for some attention and I deliberately refuse to give it — specifically to torture him. Clearly frustrated by my lack of response, Joe eventually shifts, laying next to me. I can’t help but laugh at his antics.

“What’s so funny?” he questions.

“Just something in my book,” I fib.

Not much time passes before Joe tries another tactic to gain my attention.

“Am I distracting you?” he asks as he slides his fingers under the edge of my shirt and draws circles on my belly.

“Are you trying to distract me?” I ask, keeping my eyes on my book. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him grinning.

“Maybe,” Joe replies.

His response intrigues me, so I look at him.

Happy that he gets my attention, Joe changes his answer, “Yes. Is it working?”

I return my gaze to my book before remarking, “Yes.”

“Good,” Joe whispers, continuing to keep my focus off my book. He nuzzles into my shoulder and wraps his arm tighter around my waist.

“I thought we agreed to just be friends?” I remind.

“I didn’t agree to anything,” he defends, placing his lips on the edge of my neck. “You were the one who said just friends.”

My sex salivates at the touch of his lips to my skin. My neck is my weakness — my Achille’s Heel. Pull yourself together, Emma. No need for Joe to know how to get to you.