3 Breaths (10 page)

“Thank you for putting up with me. I know I’m difficult.”

“It’s my job, you’re my only son. I’m worried for you. I only want what’s best for you, and sometimes I don’t know how to help you with that, but I won’t give up. I’m always here if you ever want to talk.”

I’d rather not burden my mom with my problems. Kissing her on the cheek, I close the door behind her, praying my apology will cover my shitty behavior these last several months. The look in her eyes was hopeful, a great thing to see, but it won’t last long. I’ll let her down again; I always do.

Packing up my bag, I see a missed call from an unknown number. There is a message and as I play it on speaker, my world yet again…crumbles down around me.

“What do you mean I have ’til the end of the month?” I ask the overly rude woman on the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hensley, but you and Miss Winslow only signed a one-year lease. I’m afraid that this is your last month and with the current economy, rates have gone up. I can look and see if we have a cheaper apartment for you to move into.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? Zoë’s dead and I don’t even live there anymore.”

“Then what’s the problem with moving out?”

I hang up on her. I’m not about to get more into my personal life than I already have. I’ve known for a while that this was coming; now I’m just forced to actually do it. This falls on my shoulders. Zoë was mine, she was my fiancée and soon would have been my wife, so I have to handle her things.

But imagining doing it without Ivy is almost impossible. Looking through my contacts, I panic needing to talk to her. And then remember what I did last night. Fuck, I really wish I hadn’t deleted her number. Looking out the window, resolve settles over me.

I have to go see her to make things right and it isn’t ’cause I need her right now. It’s because as I think of the things I did last night, I’m more and more convinced that is not the person I want to be. Ivy makes me better, and a week without her has broken me even further down than six months without Zoë already has. I’m drinking even more now. I miss my friend, plain and simple. I don’t want anything more than to see her smile and be there for each other like we used to be.

Jogging down the stairs of my apartment, I get in my truck and check the time. She should still be working, so I head that way hoping I don’t piss her off showing up there.

Parking in the first spot I see, I head inside on a mission. As I look around wildly for her, I am disappointed when I don’t spot her, so I tell the receptionist, “I’m here to see Ivy Winslow, please.”

She blinks a few times and then says, “I’m sorry, but she doesn’t work here anymore.”

“What?” I ask the girl, confused.

“She’s no longer employed here.” The woman repeats slowly, like I am a fucking idiot.

“Since when?” I ask, agitated, gripping the counter.

“I don’t have the authority to—”

I cut her off, pissed, and lean lower, getting in her face. “Since when?” I ask again, in a low, deep voice.

She looks around the room, and then whispers, “Since last week. She just stopped coming in is all I know.”

I shake my head, sick with fear, and pat the counter once before I walk off. Why in the world would she stop going in to work? Driving to her apartment as quickly as I can, I weave in and out of traffic, fearing that this is all my fault.

Parking at her house, I see her car parked in her normal spot as I shut mine off.

She better fucking be okay.

Sprinting up to the door, I knock and wait. It’s quiet inside and I feel like something is off. “Ivy,” I shout and bang again, but there is no response.

Fuck!

Looking at my phone, I try and rack my brain to remember her phone number, but can’t. “Ivy?” I shout and slam my fist again, but she doesn’t come to the door. As I start to panic, I try and rationalize with myself as to what could have actually happened. But alarm bells ring in my head; if she stopped going to work a week ago, something’s wrong. Reaching for the door handle, I turn it and find it unlocked.

Goddammit, my heart stammers.

My mind is swirling with a million different scenarios, all of them flash to the image of Zoë as the cops pulled me away from her.

“Ivy,” I call out stepping into her dark apartment, closing the door behind me.

The place is trashed. Her cat jumps on the counter and meows at me. I scratch his head as I walk by, looking at the wreckage. Someone ransacked the place. The shelves of all of her things are empty. The floor is littered with debris, and she is nowhere in sight. So I head towards her bedroom and hesitantly place my hand on the door handle.

Slowly, I open the door afraid of what I might find, and there she is in her bed. My eyes move to her chest, and when I catch it moving, slow steady breaths rolling through her, I can breathe again as it’s apparent she’s asleep. Tears fill my eyes and I drop my hand from the knob that has been holding me up before I walk to her bed. Taking in the sights of the room as I sit next to her, I find the sand dollar I gave her placed on the center of her nightstand. I take one of my hands and gently move the hair out of her face.

Christ, she’s gorgeous when she sleeps.

She moves a little and when I lock my eyes on her lips, I can’t help but run my thumb over them. Being in the same room with her again makes everything in my world okay. The pain lessens and everything is a little bit more tolerable. The agony that normally eats away at my insides has settled.

Leaning down, I press my lips to her forehead, breathing her in. She’s so special to me. She and Zoë are so different. Ivy is her own person, so beautiful and unique.

Pulling away, I’m not sure what to do next and notice she is looking right at me. I wipe away my tears, not wanting to look like a pussy for crying and say, “Hey.”

“Hi,” she quietly responds and a flood of tears pool in her eyes.

“No, don’t cry, Ivy.”

She reaches for me and I kick my shoes off, lying next to her, wrapping one arm under her pillow and with the other I hold on to her cheek, wiping away her tears. She cries harder and I pull her into my chest, knotting my fingers into the back of her hair. Her body rocks as she sobs and I just hold on to her, letting her be.

Running my hand over the back of her head, I finally say, “I’m so sorry.” When she starts to settle a little I repeat again, “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Me too.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” I tell her shaking my head.

She pulls back and looks me in the eye. “But I am. I ruined this…us.” She gazes down at our entwined bodies.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” I tell her. She chuckles and nuzzles back against my chest. “I mean it, Ivy, I was the one who was rude and couldn’t answer your simple question.”

“You don’t need to,” she says. “I just need you. I really want things to be just the way that they were.”

“I want that too.”

Neither of us says another word. As we lay together I can feel my heart steadying. That’s one thing about Ivy, she calms me like no one else can. Closing my eyes, I hate myself for sleeping with Shannon last night. I should have made things right with Ivy before the wedding, but I didn’t and I know better than anyone that harping on the past isn’t going to change a fucking thing. So right now, I’m gonna live in this moment, with Ivy, taking each breath as though it could be my last.

Waking up next to Ivy is the best feeling I’ve had in a long time. She sets her e-reader down and I ask, “What time is it?”

“Almost seven, you passed out and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Thanks.” I stretch and she takes her hand and touches the top of my head. “What happened to your hair?”

“I cut it off for the wedding, more as a ‘fuck you’ to my sister than anything.”

“It’s nice, I like it,” she says.

“You think?”

“Yeah. And your face looks better.”

Gently she touches it and I grab her hand, bringing it to my lips. “What happened to your place?” I ask her, concerned.

“I sort of lost it after I left your place, and haven’t been able to bring myself to do much of anything.”

“Did you quit your job too?”

She scrunches her eyebrows, obviously caught by my question. “No, but I missed a few days and was already on a warning for absences, so they let me go.”

“Why didn’t you reach out to me?”

“You were busy with the wedding and I didn’t want to distract you.”

“God, Ivy, I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“I knew if I missed any more days, I’d get fired, so it’s my own fault. But at the time, I didn’t care.”

Her stomach growls, diverting my attention. “When was the last time you ate?”

She shrugs her shoulders and I look at her pissed off; the way she is acting doesn’t settle well with me. She needs to take care of herself. Getting off of the bed, I head into the kitchen dodging the piles of crap along the way. Her cat meows again and I see its empty water bowl on the floor. I fill it up and it jumps down, drinking like a dehydrated camel. Opening the fridge, I look for anything that she can eat but come up empty. Her sparse cabinets aren’t much better.

Walking back in her room, she’s reading again and I snatch her e-reader away. “What was that for?”

“You have NO food in your fucking house. Do you have a death wish or something?”

“Do you?” she asks me back.

I glare at her and toss her e-reader aside. Climbing on top of her on the bed, I straddle her tiny body watching the way she freezes beneath me. “You better watch your fuckin’ mouth.” I can’t help the smile that is on my face when she nods. “I’m going to go and get some food. I want you to shower, and don’t you dare get back in this bed, you understand me?”

She nods once and I kiss her forehead, leaving her panting under me.

Walking back up to Ivy’s apartment with my hands full of bags, I knock on the door and hear her say, “It’s unlocked.”

Christ!

Even after I told her to lock it behind me, she just leaves it open for anyone to stroll in. Opening the door, I walk in and kick it closed. She is sweeping up the remnants of her destruction and I say, “I asked you to lock your door for a reason.”

“And I kept it unlocked for you.”

“Well, don’t! Keep it locked! That’s twice now that I’ve been able to just walk in here, which means anyone else could do the same.”

She ignores my rant as I set the bags on the counter. I begin to put away the groceries, feeling bad for getting on her, but her safety is important to me. Turning on the oven, I pop the pizza in and look at her. Her wet hair is drenching through her shirt, making her nipples as clear as day. My cock twitches seeing the ridges of them peeking through. “Will you put a bra on?” I grumble. The last thing I need right now is her distracting me like that.

She looks at me and then down at my pants as she brushes all of her hair over to one shoulder. Walking up to me she takes one of my hands and cups it over her perky tit. I adjust my cock, losing my breath doing this with her. Her lips are slightly parted and my mind begins to swirl with all sorts of naughty things that I’d like to do to her. Letting go of her, I ask, “What are we doing here?” Flipping the question she asked me days ago back on her.