Breathe Me (A 'Me' Novel) (8 page)

“I heard your car.” She coughed and looked up at me with a weak smile. “I heard your car from down the road, and I told Greta here that my baby boy had come home.”

“Yeah, Ma. I’m home,” I said gruffly. I acted all hard and shit, but I loved my mom like nothing else, and I didn’t blame her for the shit that went down in this house while I was growing up. She loved me and had done her best.

“I don’t have long now…” She closed her eyes on a bad cough. I watched Greta come over with a cup and give her some water.

Fuck, this shit was rough. I saw this shit on TV and heard about it from others, and for the most part, shit just rolled off my shoulders. But this right here? Nope, couldn’t do it.

“Mom…,” Matty started.

“No, son, I can feel it. I know, and I’ve made my peace with it. You should, too.” She reached out her hand for him to come closer, and he obliged, leaving his position by the door and coming to stand on the other side of her bed.

“My boys.” She grabbed our hands in both of hers and gave a feeble squeeze to mine. “Matt, can I talk to your brother for a minute?”

“You should save your strength, Mom,” Matt said, but she sent him a pleading look, so he relented. He let go of her hand and patted it in a placating gesture.

If Mom was up and good, she would have slapped him on the back of the neck for that move. As it was, she barely had enough strength to lift a hand for water.

I shot my brother a smug look on his way out, and because I was a dick, I waited until the door closed behind him to agree with him.

“Ma, he’s right, you should save your strength,” I said. I had no idea why she wanted alone time with me other than to tell me she loved me, and I already knew that. Honestly, it was a little uncomfortable to be there with her nurse in the room and shit, when she was on the verge of…death.

“You were my first born, my fighter. I remember when they told me I was having a baby boy. I was so happy I came home and told your father, and we picked out your name before we even decorated your nursery.” She took a long breath then continued. “He wasn’t always the way you remember him, Dek. He loved you, still does.” She coughed.

She would want to have this conversation now, knowing damn well I wouldn’t bounce out because she was literally on her deathbed. My spine stiffened because I knew what she was going to say, and I didn’t want to hear the shit.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice what was happening until it was too late.”

“Ma, don’t.” My jaw tightened. She had told me this a thousand times. I knew that, and I wasn’t faulting her for not doing anything when my fuckhead father would pound his fist into my flesh for no fucking reason other than that I was alive. No, I faulted her for loving
him
more.

“No, listen, I know you think I chose him over you, but I didn’t. By the time I knew what was happening, I was too sick to leave him. He is a good man, a husband and father, he just made some bad choices that I didn’t agree with and that cost me to lose my son.” She was getting so winded and had to take longer intervals before speaking again. When she did, it was on a sigh. “I lost my son, and you will never know how sorry I am for that.”

“You didn’t lose me, Ma. I’m here, aren’t I? I came back for you.” I clenched my fist because she was doing it again—making excuses for him. “Don’t make excuses for that bas—”

“Deklan.” His voice reverberated through the air, making everyone in the room freeze as his silver gaze bore into my own. It’s my own personal hell that I look so much like the son of a bitch. I fucking hated looking in the mirror and seeing the same eyes that caused me pain all my life staring back at me. It made me want to punch shit. He stalked in, my brother on his heels like a fucking puppy begging for attention, and stopped short at the end of the bed. His stance was much like mine, on the defense, instilling fear in all that challenged him.

Everyone except me. That asshole couldn’t instill shit in me anymore.

“Your mother should be resting, not wasting her energy talking.” Royce Kane gave off an aura of superiority that I fucking hated. Being the owner of Kane’s Dry Cleaning, he had about four or five chains in several cities, including Dacula, and in surrounding states. He was used to giving people orders and them being followed. I used to be the dutiful son and all that shit, until I wised the fuck up. Now, he only adopted this tone with me because he knew it irked my fucking nerves.

“Talking to me, you mean.” I tensed, ready to lay it out all nice and pretty for him. Fuck you, old man.

“Dek,” Matty said in a warning tone, for whose sake I didn’t know, also didn’t care.

“It’s okay, Matthew. Your brother obviously has something he would like to say to me that is so important he has to tell me now, while my wife lies dying.”

I shot a glance at Mom, but she had already fallen back to sleep. Thank God she hadn’t heard that. I didn’t come here to fight with him, especially not in front of her, but since he started it, let’s go.

I opened my mouth to tell him what the fuck was up, when Greta, the nurse, cleared her throat rather loudly. I had forgotten she was in the room.

“Why don’t we all—”

“I’m already gone,” I cut her off. I wasn’t welcome; that was clear. The one person who wanted me there was in and out of sleep, and Matty would always side with Royce. Leaning over, I kissed my mother on her cheek and whispered my good-bye, hoping it reached her wherever she was. I looked my father and brother in the eye for a beat, then walked out hoping this wasn’t the last time I would see my mother.

After hitting up a bar and getting lollipopped by some blonde chick with violet contacts, I found a shitty-ass diner and was leaving when I spotted something across the street that could make for a promising night.

Hell yes.

Chapter 11

Harley

“What do you mean my biggest dream?” I asked, hoping to stall.

“Just like I said. The question is simple enough.” He leaned back and stretched, and I couldn’t help but gawk at the stretch of taut tanned skin that peeked out of his shirt. If this were a cartoon, my eyes would have bugged out, and I would have yelled, “Hubba, hubba, wowzha!”

I averted my eyes when he stopped, but by the smile on his face, I don’t think I was as inconspicuous as I thought.

“What’s your biggest dream, then?” I countered.

“It changes a lot.” He grinned.

“Well, what is it at this moment, then?”

“To kiss the shit out of you,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

“Deklan…,” I whispered, slightly embarrassed. What would he say if I had told him I had never kissed anyone, let alone had the shit kissed right out of me?

“Okay, I know I gave you my scout’s honor, but that mouth, those lips, need to be kissed or fucked right now.”

My eyes grew like saucers at his admission. He laughed because I was sure I looked like the cartoon character now.

“Relax, I can only do one of those things in public, and I just said I was a scout so you would come to dinner with me.”

“But you…you…” I couldn’t even string together two words. I was so shocked at how easily I believed him and how strangely pleasant his words made me feel.

“Mellow, babe. I will be on my best behavior until you do something that changes that.” He leaned forward, locking me in his steel prison. I couldn’t help but blush, so I bent my head and started playing with my hair self-consciously. Thankfully, the waitress walked over and slapped two menus down, then looked at us with pen over paid, waiting. Little did she know she was my savior.

“We’ll take two of the meatloaf platters, a coke, and a…?” He looked at me.

“Chocolate milk,” I supplied.

“And a chocolate milk.” He smiled at the waitress, but it did nothing to change her sour face.

“Be right out,” she grumbled before walking away, taking the menus with her.

“Well, what is it?” he pushed. Man, he was relentless.

“What’s what?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Harley. Answer my question.”

Fuck, I had hoped he would have forgotten, but no such luck. I considered lying to him, but when I glanced at how intently he was staring at me, I just couldn’t. So I went for vagueness.

“To be free,” I said, shrinking farther into my seat and hoping he didn’t hear the heaviness behind those words.

He seemed to process my answer. It was so long before he spoke that I felt I had given the wrong answer to a test. I fidgeted in my seat and looked down at my clamped hands.

Finally, after leaning back, he tilted his head to the side and asked, “Of what?”

I shrugged, although I did want to tell him things—like how much I wished he would kiss the shit out of me. I didn’t think he would want to hear what I wanted freedom from. If I said fear, then he would know, and I was selfish enough to know that I didn’t want our time to go away. I would never have this again.

“If you could do one thing, what would it be?” He continued to study me without waiting for my reply. Could he see how much I struggled with answering it?

“What is this, twenty fucking questions?” I didn’t want to answer questions about myself, my dreams and hopes. He would never see me as more than a quick lay, and I, well, I would never see me as more pathetic than allowing it.

It was all so very pointless.

“I just want to get to know you, the real you,” he appeased.

“What do you mean, the ‘real’ me? This is me,” I snapped unnecessarily at him.

“Somehow I doubt that.” His gaze cut through me like a sharp wind.

“How would you know? You don’t know me.”

“Let’s see, you work in a bookstore because you love books, you probably live through them. You’re soft and self-conscious but pretend to be all hard and shit. You have been hurt and are afraid of something or someone, probably the same someone or something that hurt you, and…you’re beautiful, although I’m thinking you don’t think so because no one has told you enough. So how’s that?” He finished with a smugness to his face that should have bothered me, but didn’t.

I was speechless.

He read me like an open book, and I suppose I was, to anyone willing to look close enough. No one ever bothered to look at me twice, not even Ember, to figure out it was all an act. Fake. I was a fake, and it took this guy, this insanely beautiful man, who had known me for only a few days to see me. Really see me. It unnerved me. Who was this man?

“All that proves is that you have stalker tendencies.” I played with my hair again, pulling it over my face to hide the shame I was needlessly feeling all of a sudden. I felt his warm grip lightly on my arm, moving my hand away so that he could look me in the eye.

“Don’t hide from me, Harley.”

Breathless. That’s what he left me.

I couldn’t move his hand away, and I couldn’t stop staring into those eyes. Eyes that saw through my bullshit and mess and saw
me
.

“I’m not. I’m just…I don’t know.” I blew out an exhausted breath. I had nothing. I couldn’t say anything. So I just looked away. I was a coward on top of everything else.

He turned my face back to him gently. “Why are you so afraid?” His voice mirrored his touch.

I couldn’t answer. I felt the stupid vulnerability giving away to shame, and my lips started quivering. Oh god, no, I couldn’t have a meltdown in front of him. I couldn’t. But yes, because why did I ever believe that I could be a normal twenty-three-year-old out with a boy? People liked to talk about panic attacks like they were cool, like it was the new fad. What was so cool about a tightening chest and racing pulse? I felt my breathing quicken, and my palms started to moisten with sweat. My chest squeezed and jumped, like there were a thousand horses galloping around inside of me.

I was almost positive he could see my heart beating rapidly in my chest about to break free any minute. The
thump
,
thump
,
thump
of my heart was so loud it consumed me. My vision started to blur, and my head was swimming, I was going down in a matter of minutes over that stupid word.
Afraid.
I hated it. There was nothing I could do, no escape.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I blurted and ran toward the front of the diner where the restrooms were located. I made it through the door in a blur and collapsed behind it, clutching my chest and willing my breathing to slow down.

Need to calm down.

Breathe. Positive thoughts in, negative out. I kept repeating the mantra I read in a book once, but it wasn’t working for me now.

Breathe.

“Harley?”

Fuck! He sounded like he was directly on the other side of the door, bent down to my level. How could he have known I was on the floor?

“Harley, let me in. It’s okay.” He said softly before pushing the door, and me in the process, and sliding through the small crack he’d created. I couldn’t look at him. If I did, I might’ve actually died. Instead, I tried to pretend he wasn’t there and continued to try and control my breathing.

It wasn’t working.

He sat down next to me and pulled me into his lap. I had never been cradled before, so I froze in his arms, not sure how I was supposed to act. It felt strange but…nice.

“Relax, Har, breathe with me. In then out, in then out, come on.” His voice was melodic in my ear.

It may have been his soothing voice or his strong, warm embrace, or both, but I listened to him and closed my eyes. I matched my breathing with his, in and out, in and out. I don’t know how long we sat there. I was surprised no one came in. I could only imagine what they would have said if they had made it past the entrance.

I felt my breathing return to normal and my pulse calm down. I slowly opened my eyes and began to realize what had just happened, what my stupid fear had done, what I allowed it to do. Panic of a new kind crashed into me like a tidal wave, drowning me. One way to make a guy less interested in you was to have a full-on meltdown on a dirty bathroom floor in front of him. There was no way Deklan would want anything to do with me now. I mean, who does that?

My body stiffened under his embrace as I frantically searched my fuzzy head for an escape route. One that would allow me to at least look cool and aloof, like what just went down was not big deal.