Breathe Me In (10 page)

That’s what happened when you let yourself open up to someone. It put you at risk.

I ran up the steps to Chloe’s. So maybe the way I had left Kane’s was ridiculous. But it had been the smart thing to do. If I was going to have to rely on someone, I’d rather it be Chloe than Kane.

But of course, Chloe couldn’t protect me like Kane could. That’s why I had gone over to his apartment in the first place. For protection.

But the problem with that plan had been, how did I protect myself from Kane? The way he’d looked at me, the way he’d made me shatter in his bed, under his tongue…

I couldn’t.

So I ran.

He was right. I was good at that.

Everyone needed a skill.

I knew all about people disappearing. My dad had done it without ever looking back. Not even once. He owed my mother so much child support it was ridiculous but even the threat of going to jail as a deadbeat dad hadn’t brought him to heel. Without ever contacting any of us, he did concede to have his wages garnished when half of us were already past eighteen but that was it. So after watching my mother struggle for so many years because of my father disappearing, it’s a hot button for me.

When Anya just walked out, I knew she didn’t owe me anything. An explanation, or an orgasm, or even a smile. But it seemed like the decent thing to do to say hello once in awhile and check in. Which was stupid, I knew that. She didn’t know me at all. I wasn’t entitled to a hello text. But part of me felt like I was entitled to something after she had pulled the plug while my dick was still in her. Which sounded so damn wrong that I then felt guilty for expecting anything other than a slap on the cheek for my own behavior. I’d been rough with her. And rude.

It was making me crazy and as each day went by, I didn’t get over it. If anything, I got worse. She was all I seemed to be able to think about. I checked my phone like my teenager sisters did, hoping for a text. And I would have looked her up online if I actually knew her last name, but I didn’t, so I couldn’t. She was just gone and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Other than text her myself and I wasn’t quite ready to do that without some sort of introduction other than “hey.” That would be beyond lame.

Admittedly though I wasn’t much fun to hang out with and when my brother Kurt came to town and wanted to grab a beer, I wasn’t exactly stellar company. He called me out on it after half an hour.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked. “I have pointed out three very fine looking ladies in this establishment and you have barely glanced at any of them. Have you decided to come out of the closet? Or you’ve joined the Amish?”

We were in a bar a few blocks from my apartment, very close to where I had dropped Anya off at her sister’s. I admit that the thought I might run into her in the neighborhood had strongly influenced my choice in bars. Not that I thought she was boozing it up on a Friday night when she had a young son. Nor did I even know if she was still in Portland. I threw a peanut at my brother across the sticky table. The waitress had wiped the table with a sketchy damp cloth but all it seemed to have done was push the grime around a little, not remove it.

“Yes, I’m now Amish.” I felt my chin and rubbed the beard stubble there that was getting worse. “I’m growing my beard, can’t you tell?”

Kurt eyed me in amusement. “So we need to find you a chick with a bonnet? Okay, let’s do it.”

“I don’t need your help searching for women, thanks.”

My brother, who had short hair and a roving eye, was already looking at a group of girls at the bar. They reminded me of Kasey- giggly and too young for me. But hey, Kurt was younger than me. He had every right to be on the prowl.

“I don’t see you with a girlfriend, so apparently you do need help.”

It seemed to be a trend in my family to mock me for my lack of dating. None of them knew jack about what I was doing in my free time. “I don’t want a girlfriend right now. I’m looking for something more casual.”

“Oh, yeah?” He sipped his beer. “When was the last time you got laid? Be honest.”

“Two weeks ago.” So what if I sounded a little bit proud of that fact? I was a guy. Sometimes we can’t stop the brag.

“Whatever,” he scoffed at me.

“Fuck you.” I threw a balled up cocktail napkin at him, the sound of some boy band blaring all around us in the bar irritating the shit out of me. “Two days in a row actually.” He didn’t need to know the second night has been cut short before I’d actually come.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, I don’t exactly have any way to prove it.”

He raised his eyebrows up and down. “You could give me her number and I’ll find out for myself.”

Fat fucking chance. “And that’s a double fuck you. Absolutely not. She deserves someone better than your douchebag ass.”

Or did she? I didn’t really know. What I did know was that when I closed my eyes at night it was her face I saw and her expression that waffled between defiant and vulnerable. She fascinated me. The way she had yanked my hair so hard and the way she had bit my lip and come hard, on my finger, on my tongue. I shifted in my chair.

“I think you like her. So where is she?”

I waved my hand. “It was just a hook up.”

“Then why do you look like you could cry?”

“Fuck you.” Now I pitched an unused straw at him. I was running out of things to throw. “I’m not going to cry.” I wasn’t, but I didn’t feel all that great either. I wanted to talk to Anya or see her. I wasn’t going to lie to myself about that.

“But the truth is, you want to see her again and she is blowing you off, right?”

“Why are you being such a dick?” Kurt was starting to annoy me. “I’m not all up in your business.”

He put his hand up. “Fine, fine, sorry. I’m not trying to piss you off. Just want to make sure you’re getting what you want.”

That made me snort. “Aren’t you generous?” And no, for the fucking record, I was not getting what I wanted. Because I wanted Anya. Back in my bed and back in my kitchen. I wanted to fuck her and I wanted to finger her and I wanted to go down on her. I wanted to be the man who made her crazy. And I wanted to be the man to protect her. I wanted to take care of her, cook dinner for her. Which was ironic, because I don’t even cook.

When Kurt went to the bar to order another drink, impatient with the waitress, and probably intending to put himself in the path of the giggling girl gang, I gave into the urge I’d had for two weeks and I texted the number Anya had given me for the phone she’d lost. I thought maybe she’d replaced it by now. I was going to write something innocuous like “Hey, what’s up?” or “How are you?” but then I decided that was too vanilla for a girl like Anya.

I want to pull your hair again.

That would get a reaction if she had a new phone, I was sure of it. Good or bad, at least I wouldn’t be waiting indefinitely for a response wondering if she had ever gotten it. I didn’t have to wait long, but the text wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for.

Who is this?

Was she for real? How many fucking guys did she have pulling her hair?

Kane.

Oh. I thought we were done.

Involuntarily I sucked in a breath. She sure knew how to make someone feel like nothing. Without any hesitation.

I wasn’t done, not by a long shot. You owe me an orgasm.

It wasn’t something I would typically say but I was pissed. She’d been jerking me around since the second I met her.

So that’s why you’re texting me? Because you didn’t get to pop one off? Go fuck yourself, Dermott. I don’t owe you shit.

Yep. That was definitely Anya.

I shoved my phone back in my pocket. It buzzed again, but I ignored it. My jaw was clenched and my blood felt hot, sluicing through my veins. I tossed back the remains of my beer and went to join Kurt at the bar.

When a blonde smiled at me, I smiled back.

“Hey,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and batting her eyelashes at me.

“Hey, beautiful,” I said, flirtatiously, knowing I sounded like a douche. Feeling like a douche. But at least this girl thought I was attractive. She wanted me. She was not going to be a raging bitch to me.

It was fucked up logic, but I was going with it.

“I’m Nicki,” she said, sticking her hand out.

“Kane.” I held her hand longer than was necessary. “So what do you do, Nicki?”

“I’m a student. Psych major. You?”

“I’m a cop.”

Her eyes lit up and damn it, I enjoyed that response. I deserved a little appreciation.

“Oh, that’s sexy. Do you carry a big gun?”

Cheesy, but effective. I’d take it. “Of course.” A look over at my brother showed he was shaking his head, eyes wide in amusement. He was talking to two of Nicki’s friends, though he seemed to be homing in on the brunette with the substantial cleavage.

Nicki was leaning on the bartop, her elbows resting there so her chest popped out enticingly. “If I get disorderly, will you frisk me?”

“Are you planning on getting drunk and disorderly?”

“Totally.”

“I’m not on duty, but if you get out of line, then I will definitely have to restrain you.” My heart wasn’t in it, but I was just pissed off enough and just stupid enough to roll with it. I felt like both Kurt and Anya were egging me on, intentional or not, and I was sick of being the guy that everyone took for granted.

Which was how I ended up making out with Nicki thirty minutes later in a dark corner by the restrooms, trying to work up some enthusiasm for it, but being left cold by the whole thing. Wanting to spark something, anything, I bit her lip, hard.

“Ow!” She jumped back and gave me a dirty look. “Don’t do that.”

“I thought you were a wild girl who likes getting disorderly. Who needs a cop to cuff her.” There was a mocking tone to my voice that I couldn’t quite control and I hated myself for being such a prick. This had nothing to do with her. Nothing. I was angry that kissing her all I could think about was kissing Anya instead. And how if I gave shit to Anya, she’d give it right back. In fact, she’d mop the fucking floor with me.

Nicki looked uncertain, her shoulders stiffening. She leaned a little bit away from me. “I’m not like into BDSM. I barely know you.”

She didn’t know me at all. She was right about that. I didn’t know her. I didn’t know Anya. At the moment, I didn’t even know myself.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” I touched the ends of her hair, feeling bad. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Let’s just go back with your friends and hang out.”

“Okay, cool.”

The relief on her face made me ashamed. Apparently she had sensed predator from me. Squeezing her hand, I led her back to the group at the bar. When I pulled out my phone, I deleted the last message Anya had sent me without even reading it. I could see a particular swear word featured heavily in it. I figured that was all I really needed to know.

Fuck.

That about summed up everything.

When I got home, wasted, Nicki’s lipstick smeared all over me, there was an envelope taped to my front door with forty bucks in it.

Scrawled on the front was written “IOU nothing.”

It just made Anya all that much hotter to me.

Had I wanted to hear from Kane? Well, yeah, of course. No matter what I told myself I liked him. I wanted to roll around in bed with him and I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to get to know him, I did. I knew that because for two weeks I didn’t stop thinking about him. Not even as the days went by and I got hired at the pizza place and got a new disposable phone and was able to give Chloe fifty bucks back out of my tips. Even as I spent time with my twin, hanging out, learning to read her facial expressions and her body language, watching her with my son. She babysat for me when I went to work and I felt a deep sense of gratitude and peace, more than I’d had in a very long time. Maybe ever.

Yet despite all that was awesome, Kane filled my thoughts. Shoving him off in the middle of sex was just not cool and I didn’t blame him for being so angry he didn’t contact me. I wasn’t about to text him. Because I was very aware it mattered too much to me if he responded or not. I couldn’t go there, I couldn’t let him serve as a distraction.

So when I did hear from him after two weeks and it was him saying he wanted to pull my hair, it ticked me off. Sure, he had every right to say that. And yes, I had possibly pulled his hair first, but here I was, being such a girl, like legitimately pining for him like I was fourteen and he was just thinking about me in dirty girl terms. Again, his right. But it still made me mad. I’m not always rational. Not my claim to fame.

I swung back. It’s a defense mechanism. But then I felt guilty and I texted fuck it, that I fucking liked him and it fucking scared me and what the fuck was wrong with that? And he didn’t answer.

So embarrassing. So awful.

It was still a humiliating sting the next afternoon when I pushed Asher in the swing at the local park. He was squealing in delight, his chubby arms flapping in the sweatshirt Chloe had bought him, the hood pulled up tightly over his ears. I was actually in front of him, pulling the swing towards me then letting it go so I could see his adorable face. It made me smile every single time.

“Look at you, buddy,” I said, smiling right back at him. “Aren’t you so handsome? Yes. Mommy loves you.”

I felt fiercely lucky. It was a quiet park, just a couple of other mothers with kids milling about, and the equipment was new, the mulch on the ground fresh. The playground was surrounded by trees, a few walking trails, and a picnic shelter. The air smelled clean and I was just any other mom on a Saturday morning with her child. It felt delicious. Freeing. I could almost believe that it could stay like this- that I could keep working at my job, save some money, get a studio for me and Asher. Make a home for him here in Maine.

That still seemed remote and naïve though.

Maybe that was why the text from Kane had ticked me off so much. It had reminded me that my life wasn’t ordinary, that I wasn’t just some Katie he’d met at the bar.

But I had sunshine and a perfect baby and five bucks in my pocket so I needed to just banish thoughts of Kane from my mind. I was holding Asher’s swing up and kissing him on the cheek, making silly munching sounds so he would laugh when I realized there was a cop car pulling into the parking lot. One of the little kids on the jungle gym spotted it too and yelled out to his mom that the police were there.