Hold Me Like a Breath (3 page)

“Supposedly.” Carter sighed. “So, Pen, why are you and Mother fighting?”

“Because she never takes me seriously! There are important
conversations I need to have with her that she won't even let me start.”

“Conversations about what?” asked Garrett, then ducked his head and added, “Unless it's too personal.”

“It's not,” I said quickly, swallowing down the way my heart had leaped to my throat with his question. “And actually, I do want your advice … you guys just haven't been around to ask.”

They'd come home from their freshman year of college two weeks ago, yet I'd barely seen them besides at meals. Carter was always sequestered with Father and the council or off the estate. Where my brother went, Garrett followed. I'm not sure if it was loyalty or duty.

“I'm not avoiding you,” said Carter. “Don't give me that look; I'm really not. Things have been insane. I
do
feel bad about it. I was just telling Gare we should do something with you.”

“Prove it,” I challenged.

“What?”

“If you miss me, prove it.” At five feet three inches tall there weren't many chances for me to use height to my advantage, but my giant of a brother was seated, so I glared down into eyes as blue as my own. My medical ID bracelet jingled as it slid down my wrist, settling like a shackle. “Take me off-estate. Now. Not next week, not when things are less busy.”

“You think I'd put off spending time with my favorite sister?”

“Twenty percent of your summer vacation is already over and this is the longest conversation we've had, so,
yes
, yes, I do.”

Carter laughed. “I know when I'm beat. Let's go.”

He stood and headed toward the hall, but neither Garrett nor I moved. I was too busy mentally cycling through
Really? Is he serious
?

Garrett was frowning. “We can't.” My brother and I turned to him. “We have
that thing
we have to do.”

“
Ohhh
.” Carter drew out the word, then sucked an inhale through his teeth. “Right.”

“Can't I come?” I begged. “I don't care if
that thing
is boring. At least it would be a different kind of boring.”

“Sorry, Pen.” Carter carefully tugged my sleeve—it was what passed for a playful sibling gesture between us since he
couldn't
give me wedgies or noogies or even poke and pinch me like the siblings I saw on sitcoms. “It's just … there's some stuff happening. Big stuff. But it doesn't mean I don't want to hang out with you.”

“I am so sick of excuses I could scream!” My voice actually
did
get rather close to screaming by the end of the sentence.

A door opened and Mother called, “Penny? Why are you yelling? Come back into the solarium so I can talk to you.”

“You can't leave me here,” I hissed at my brother.

“Maybe—”

“No,” said Garrett. “Don't even think about it.”

I glared at him, but he was giving my brother a look of raised-eyebrow warning and didn't even notice. It was a very Ward look, square-jawed, narrow-lipped, so menacing you forgot how handsome he normally was. I'd seen this expression on the faces of his older brothers but never him. It erased my annoyance and replaced it with shivers.

“What about this? I'll try and get back early enough to do something. I can't make any promises, but I'll do my best. Okay?” Carter tugged my sleeve again.

“I don't have a choice, do I?” I pulled my shirt out of his grip and crossed my arms.

“Well, you
could
turn down your two favorite guys … but why would you want to?”

“Favorite guys?” I reached over and pinched him.

“Ouch, Pen!”

“Strange. I thought you must be dreaming, but you're actually awake.”

Garrett tried to hide his smile.

“If you're done beating me up …” Carter made a show of rubbing his arm. “I could really go for some Korean barbecue later. How's that sound?”

“I wouldn't know; I've never had it,” I muttered.

“Penelope Maeve!” Mother's voice sounded less patient this time, and closer. “I know you can hear me.”

“Well, I'm thinking of a great place in the city …” He trailed off and raised his eyebrows.

“New York City?” I squealed. It was my weakness, my favorite daydream. And, curse him, he knew it.

“Yup. So go make nice with Mother, and I'll call you with an update later. Gare, let's roll.” Carter strolled out of the room all confidence and swagger. For a moment, I hated him: that he was allowed to come and go as he pleased; that he didn't see the gates surrounding our property as a cage; that he didn't have to go smile, apologize, beg for a night of
maybe
freedom.

Garrett paused for a second after Carter was gone. He stepped around the chairs and couch and tables to stand in front of me. So close I could touch him, or he could touch me … except, he
couldn't
. He grinned in a way that made his almost-green eyes glow, in a way that made my years-old crush swell in my chest, my cheeks flush, and heart race. “Just so you know, I want to work on that favorite-guy thing …”

I nodded and bit down on my tongue so I didn't confess how lonely I was when they left for school without me.

Mother appeared in one doorway as Garrett slipped out the other. “I've been calling you. Have you calmed down enough to be reasonable yet?”

“Calm” was the last word I'd use to describe the emotions cycloning through me—but I needed to “make nice” if I wanted to go off-estate with Carter—NYC!—
if
he had the time to take me.

“Yes, Mother,” I said meekly. “Is the picnic still set up? I'd love to try some of those strawberries.”

It's not like time ever moved quickly on the estate, but while waiting to
maybe
leave, it ceased to move at all. I gritted my teeth while Mother showed me swatch books for new library curtains. I tried on dozens of outfits, creating a mountain of discarded dresses and tank tops on the floor of my closet. I resisted the urge to text Garrett and Carter every five minutes—once an hour, however, was completely reasonable.

And when Carter responded:
Pick U up @ 6
, I shrieked with
glee—causing Mother to rush into my bedroom, breathless with alarm. I begged, pleaded, called Carter and made him talk to her, and finally went limp with relief when she said, “Yes, as long as …”

Her list of rules and warnings was endless, but I pretended to listen as I second-guessed my appearance and watched out the window for Carter's car.

When I caught the first glimpse of the black Mercedes, I blew Mother a kiss, grabbed my purse, and ran outside.

Garrett got out to open the car door for me. I studied him while I went down the steps and walked across the driveway. The sun was reflecting off his hair, making it look more red than auburn. It was long enough that the ends curled. I wanted to keep staring and list the ways his first year at college had changed him—sharpened the line of his jaw and filled out his neck and chest so he mirrored the muscular bulk of his older brothers—but I was out of footsteps.

I caught him watching me too. Making me so glad I'd enlisted Caroline's help in selecting an outfit. She was a nurse but also the closest thing I had to a friend, and she'd teased me about my brother tagging along on my “date.” She'd vetoed my capris and skirts and thumbs-upped the yellow sundress with white eyelet trim. The sundress that made Garrett exhale slowly as I stepped close.

“You look …” He swallowed. “Really nice.”

I smiled, and he did too. The smile I remembered from days of board game marathons and crossword puzzle races. From the times when he'd sneak away from games of manhunt with his
brothers and Carter to come tell me about his day and ask about mine. From before he was too busy. Back then, his smiles were innocent—they hadn't made my blood run hot—and his eyes weren't so intense.

Carter beeped the horn, and we both jumped. “Let's go,” he shouted.

Garrett dropped his gaze and patted the car's roof. “Your chariot.” He waited for me to slip into the backseat and click my seat belt before shutting my door.

There was always a moment as I rolled down the long driveway toward the high fence surrounding the estate when my breath caught in my chest and I doubted my decision to leave.
Anything
could happen to me outside the perimeter of our property.

Carter interrupted my thoughts. “I told Mother we're going to see a musical. You know what's playing and can pick one, right?”

Of course I did. I spent hours on NYC websites, blogs, and forums. Someday I'd go into a long remission. Someday I'd live there and walk the streets of promise, freedom, and opportunity they sang about in
Annie
, a play I'd seen with Father on Broadway right before my life turned purple and red.

“Really?” It made sense that Mother would agree to a play. It would be safe, a seated activity. The chairs would mark out
defined personal space, and I'd be perfectly cocooned between the two guys. It made a whole lot
less
sense that Carter would voluntarily attend the theater.

He lowered his window and called a greeting to Ian, the guard on gate duty. Once his window was closed and the gate was shutting behind us, he snorted. “No, not really. That's just what I said to buy you some extra time.”

“You should at least listen to the score then,” I countered. “You know she's going to want to discuss it. Or, if she doesn't, Father will. He'll probably perform it if I ask.”

“Then don't ask,” said Carter. “Fine. Pick a show and Garrett can download the soundtrack. We'll listen to it
once
, then I get the radio for the rest of the drive—no complaints.”

It was more than I'd expected; he truly felt guilty about being so MIA. “There's a revival of
Once Upon a Mattress
that's getting great reviews.”

They snickered.

“
Once Upon a Mattress
? That sounds like—”

I cut my brother off. “Don't go there! It's a fairy tale, gutter-brain.”

“Of course it is,” laughed Garrett.

I'm pretty sure the subtext of that laugh was
you're such a child
. I swallowed a retort. Freedom was too rare a thing to waste arguing. And I'd never had Korean barbecue. I'd never even heard of it. There were so many things I'd never seen, tasted, experienced … Tension melted into giddy anticipation, bubbling in my stomach like giggles waiting to escape.

“So, how'd your super-secret errand go?” I asked. “Was it something exciting? Something illegal?”

Garrett met my gaze in the rearview mirror and shook his head.

But it was too late. Carter's expression darkened. “
Everything
we do is illegal. It's not a game where you get to pick and choose which crimes you're okay with.”

“So it didn't go well,” I muttered under my breath.

I knew it wasn't a game, and I knew the Family Business was against the law. I'd known it for so long it was easy to forget. Or remember only in a vague way, like knowing the sky is blue without paying any attention to its blueness.

Only in those moments when things went wrong—when lazy clouds were replaced by threats and storms, when someone got hurt or killed—only then did I stare down the reality of the Business through a haze of grief and funeral black. My fingers tensed on the edge of the seat.

“Ignore him,” said Garrett. “He's just pissy because the people we were supposed to meet with stood us up.”

“Someone
dared
to no-show for a meeting with the mighty Carter Landlow?” I teased, hoping to break the gloom settling in the car like an unwelcome passenger. “I assumed it was a Business errand, but if someone stood you up, it must be a
girl
.”

“No offense, Pen, but you don't have a clue what's going on in the Business.”

“
No offense
, Carter, but you're being a—”

“Who wants to hear some songs about mattresses?”
interrupted Garrett. He reached for the stereo, but Carter swatted his hand away.

“I'm not an idiot,” I said. And wishing for things that had been denied for so long was idiotic. No less so than repeatedly bashing your head against a wall or touching a hot iron. I knew the answer was
no
, was always going to be
no
, so asking to be included in Family matters was like volunteering to be a punch line for one of the Ward brothers' jokes.

But I knew the basics. It wouldn't be possible to live on the estate, spend so much time in the clinic, and
not
know. The first person to explain it to me had been my grandfather; fitting, since he was the man who'd reacted to the formation of FOTA—the Federal Organ and Tissue Association—by founding our Family.