Every Breath (18 page)

“Class, raise your hand if you remember who this guy is.”

Every single hand shoots up, but half of them yell. “Sawyer!”

He laughs. “You’re right! Miss Madison said you were all smart. I hope you don’t mind that I crashed your party, but I wanted to surprise all of you with a visit today.”

“Did you have to travel a hundred miles to get here?” Jase asks, clearly enamored with the soldier towering over him.

“That’s pretty close, buddy.” Sawyer holds up his hand to high-five Jase. “It was a really long trip.”

Sawyer effortlessly entertains the class up until the bell rings. He finishes watching the cartoon with them, helps them make their ornaments, and I am even able to borrow a guitar, so he can play while they sing Christmas songs. Every time I look at him, I catch him watching me, but he rarely speaks to me. He just laughs at himself for getting caught again and goes back to the kids.

When it’s time to go, they all hug him goodbye and file out the door, perfectly happy and ready to tell their parents all about their exciting day. I walk them down the hall to turn them over to the duty teacher, and when I return, I see him collapsed on the circle time rug.

“Seriously . . . how do you do this every day without stopping halfway through for a nap?”

I stop at the edge of the carpet, cross my arms, and smile. “I was just asking myself the same thing right before you showed up.”

He rolls to his side before forcing himself upright and onto his feet. “I didn’t want to freak the kids out, but I can’t wait another second.” As he takes one big step, he reaches out for me, and I meet him halfway. He fully envelops me in his arms and crouches down slightly to nuzzle his face into my neck. I lean my head to press my cheek against his, and I reach around to rub my hand along the short hair on the back of his head, something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. I love the way it feels—soft and prickly at the same time.

Closing my eyes, I forget about everything else in my life and give my mind a much needed break. Right now, in this very moment, all is right in my world. Sawyer is finally home. He’s safe. And he’s in my arms. For some reason, nothing else matters right now.

When he pulls away, he takes my hand and drags me along behind him over to my desk. He sits on the corner and pulls me in front of him. Even when he’s sitting, I’m barely as tall as he is. When he looks up at me, a solitary tear escapes from the corner of one eye, and I suddenly want to cry, too.

“I was afraid I wouldn’t ever get the chance to tell you this, but thank you. A million times, thank you. For cheering me up when I needed it. For trusting me enough to share a part of yourself. And most of all, for just being there for me the last several weeks.” The tears are pretty much a steady stream now, but he doesn’t try to pretend he’s not emotional. “I can’t begin to explain it all right now, but I probably wouldn’t have made it out of there alive, if it hadn’t been for you.”

I didn’t even realize I was crying until he pulls a tissue from the box on my desk to wipe my cheeks, so to lighten the mood, I smile and grab one to wipe his tears away. “I thought this was a good day. Why are we bawling like a couple of babies?”

“But I’m not finished yet,” he says, taking both of my hands in his. Strangely, even though it’s the first time he’s ever truly held my hands, it doesn’t feel that way. It’s comfortable, like it’s a normal thing for us. “I have one more thing to thank you for.”

I look down at our intertwined fingers, amazed at how much I like how it looks. “What more could you possibly need to thank me for?”

“For checking in on William for me this week.”

I gasp and look over my shoulder at the clock, mentally kicking myself for forgetting about going to see him after work today. After the mess with Drew last night, I haven’t been able to think about much else, and I still have to find the time to talk to him tonight. Damn it.

“Relax, I’ve already been there to see him today. He’s fine. And I’ve already been interrogated by him, Mrs. Georgia, and Dalton on the status of our friendship.”

“You’re not mad? I wanted to tell you before you found out about it on your own, but I haven’t talked with you this week.”

His thumb grazes lightly over the top of my hand. “Not. At. All. Just knowing that you took it upon yourself to check up on him . . . I’m beyond grateful.”

“I’m glad,” I sigh. “I’ve been worried that you’d see it as an intrusion.”

He untangles one hand from mine and rubs the back of his fingers across my cheek. “No. Not with you.” He stops and turns my chin up so that I’m looking directly at him. Once our eyes meet, it’s like they’re fixed. We just stand there, staring, but in a situation that would normally make me uncomfortable, I don’t want to stop. I don’t even panic when he leans forward and whispers “thank you” against my lips and plants a chaste kiss on them. My first reaction is to bring my hand to my lips in an attempt to quell the sudden tingling, and I think Sawyer translates that as repulsion.

He drops his hands to his sides and stands. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I know you have a boyfriend, and I totally crossed the line there. I just . . . I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. But I still shouldn’t have. I’m not the kind of guy who does jerk moves like that, and I just got a little caught up.”

I shake my head at him. “No apologies necessary. And we’re going to have a nice long talk tomorrow, so I can explain everything that’s happened this last week. Unfortunately, it’s not over yet.”

“Umm . . . okay.” He scrunches his eyebrows, causing a tiny bunch of creases to form between them. “How about I pick you up at your place in the morning, and you can go with me to see William? He was pretty tired when I left, so I’m going to let him sleep tonight.”

Crap, I don’t want to explain why I’m not staying at my house. But hell, after I talk to Drew tonight, where else am I supposed to go? I didn’t really think about that. Maybe I can nail the back door closed until I can figure out how to fix it. As ridiculous as that sounds, it may be my only choice. “Give me your phone number, and I’ll call you in the morning when I get up to finalize the details, okay?”

He scribbles his number down on a notepad, and I do the same, ripping the bottom half of the page off to hand to him. “I can’t promise that you didn’t just make a huge mistake by giving me your number. You just might regret it when I’m calling you late tonight. My sleep schedule is a little backwards.”

“I’ll regret it if you don’t.”

An easy smile plays at the corners of his mouth, pulling up one side more than the other. My favorite of his smiles. “I wouldn’t dare disappoint you.” He pulls me into a lingering hug and winks over his shoulder when he walks out the door.

I walk around my desk and slump into the chair. The last few hours have been a whirlwind, and I’m sad that Sawyer is gone. I have so much to tell him and so many things to ask him. I still can’t believe he’s actually here. And only moments ago, he
kissed
me. I touch my lips and smile like a teenage girl. I think this is the part where I’m supposed to call all of my friends, dance in front of my mirror, and write all about it in my Lisa Frank diary.

Which is exactly how I felt when Shane kissed me the first time. This is how it
should
feel.

I’m still grinning like a fool when Drew steps through the door, holding an obscenely large bouquet of pink roses. There’s not much of an expression on his face, but I can tell something is off. He places them on my desk—with a little too much emphasis—and walks around beside my chair. “That was him, wasn’t it?”

I’m not going to play games with him. If he gets mad, then so be it. “It was. He just got back home and came to surprise my class before they left for the break.”

A deep frown mars his face. “And you, too. I saw the look on his face when he walked out of your room, and I saw yours when I came in. You don’t have to pretend like you don’t care if he was here or not. It was written all over your face.”

I huff and look up at him. “Drew, I’ve told you that he’s become a good friend. Yes, I am glad to see him safely back at home. I wouldn’t ever deny that.”

“Well, you don’t ever look at me like that,” he says, his rigid body barely moving. “So what is it that you consider me?”

“After last night, I honestly don’t know, but I do know we need to talk about it.”

He picks up the flowers, which are now drooping on one side from his less-than-gentle delivery, and holds them out to me. “That’s why I’m here . . . to apologize. I was upset that you lied to me about seeing the old man, so I had a few drinks to try and calm down before you got home. But it didn’t really help. After lying in bed for a couple of hours, I knew I’d been an idiot, and I just had to be next to you. I guess the alcohol didn’t help me read your cues very well because I thought you were into it. I should’ve stopped, but I just wasn’t thinking clearly. I’m truly sorry, Makenna. I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you.”

Funny. That’s exactly what he did. Instead of responding to his apology, I decide to avoid it at all costs for the moment. This evening is going to be tough enough, and I’d much rather talk to him about it at his house than here where anyone in the hallway could hear. “Why don’t we get out of here? I’ll meet you at your house, and we’ll talk about everything there. This isn’t exactly the best place to have a private conversation.”

Either I’m a master at sounding neutral or he totally misread what I said. He jumps up from the desk, seeming optimistic that our talk will redeem him from last night’s behavior. “Sure. I need to go over and pick up some things from my office, so I’ll meet you there in about thirty minutes. No, scratch that. I’ll pick us up some takeout, too, so give me about forty-five minutes or so.”

“See you then.”

“So,” Drew begins, tossing his napkin into his empty plate, “does your family usually get together on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day? I was thinking we could spend Christmas Eve alone here. We can have dinner in front of the fire and exchange gifts.
And
I bought that Jimmy Stewart movie you like, so we can watch that, too. Then, we’ll spend the next day with your folks.”

I continue to push my fried rice around on my plate. My jaw is clenched so tight, I’m having trouble convincing my mouth to open. I can sense the imminent fight threatening to break over the horizon any moment, and I know I should just rip the bandage off and get it over with, but I dread it. Then again, it’s either dread this one night, or I can dread every single day that I spend with Drew. There’s no contest. “Drew, I . . . we need to talk.”

“Makenna, I’ve already apologized about last night, and I just don’t know what else you want me to say. I pushed way too far. I know that. But it won’t happen again, I promise you.”

I shove my plate away and take a deep breath, pulling together any shred of determination I can find. “Actually, although I’m pretty upset about it, last night isn’t the only problem. The real issue here is that I’m tired of lying . . . to everyone, to you, but most of all, to myself.”

“Lying? We already talked about all of that. I don’t like the idea of your friendship with that old man, but it’s not a deal breaker for me. I’m willing to compromise on that.”

I shake my head. “No. That’s not what I’m talking about. I know that I haven’t ever told you about certain things in my past, and I don’t really want to go into all of it right now. But I will tell you that it’s the reason I ever got into this relationship with you. I’ve used it as my crutch for two years, and the thing is . . . I thought I needed this relationship to help me get rid of it, to prove to myself—and everyone else—that I
am
capable of living without it. I wanted to prove that I could love again. I was wrong, though, but only about part of it. I think I can love again—”

Drew bolts to his feet, interrupting me. “Makenna. Please . . .”

I stand, as well, finally feeling the building of resolution coursing through my veins. “Please, let me finish. I do think I can love again, but . . . I’m tired of trying to convince myself that I can love
you
.”

He blanches and stumbles backward, as if I’ve punched him in the gut. Like a fish out of water, he opens and closes his mouth as he gasps and thrashes his head from side to side. Sure, I could’ve been a little less blunt about it, but I want it over. I want to hurry up and walk out that door, knowing that I’m finally taking the first steps toward finding myself again. Not the person I once was, but someone even better. Stronger.

“You don’t mean that,” he finally forces out in a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Drew. I truly am. You’re a sweet man, and you’ve done everything you could to make me happy. I know it’s cliché, but it really is me and not you. It’s not right for me to continue along in this relationship anymore, essentially wasting my time and yours. You’ve done a lot for me, so I don’t want to hurt you by pretending anymore. I want you to find someone that will give you what you need and will be deserving of you. I can’t be that person.”

His shoulders slump and his eyes fall closed before he brings up one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “So this is it.”

“Yes,” I say resolutely. “It has to be.”

He nods his head and seems to reflect on it for a moment before he holds his arms out to me. The fact that he wants to hug me goodbye is surprising, and I’m shocked that he’s not putting up much of a fight. I expected more from him, but I’m also relieved. The charade is finally over.

I take the few steps to close the distance between us, and I allow his arms to fall around me as I wrap mine around his waist for the last time. He holds me close, stroking my hair and back softly, and I let him. If this is what he needs to be able to say goodbye and let go of me forever, then so be it.

But when moment after uncomfortable moment passes, I realize that he’s not going to let go until I make him. “Drew, I really think I should get home now.”

He groans softly and nuzzles his face into my shoulder. “You can’t go home. It’s not safe. Just stay here tonight, and you can figure something out tomorrow.”

“No, I think it’s best that I leave. Staying will only make things harder for both of us.” I try to nudge him back, so he’ll get the hint to release me, but he doesn’t budge. “Drew. I need to go.”

“You have to stay here,” he mumbles into my hair. “I’m not letting you go to that house tonight.”

“You’re not understanding me.” I pull at his massive arms, trying to break their hold on me, but he only tightens them. “I’m going. Right. Now. Let me go.”

“No.” He releases me only to grab my flailing arms to hold me still. “You know you don’t really want to go, baby. Just sleep on it.”

“I’m going home. NOW.” I half-yell/half-growl that last word, unable to contain my fury with him any longer, and you know what that bastard does? He smiles.

Just before he lowers his mouth onto mine.

Just before all hell breaks loose.

He crushes me against him so tightly that I can’t move at all. The only weapon I have available is a foot, and I’m stomping his with everything I have. It doesn’t matter how much I squirm, buck, and twist, he doesn’t relent. I try in vain to scream at the top of my lungs, but with his mouth covering mine, all I can manage is a muffled hum.

But, finally . . .
finally
he’s had enough and he releases me, and I drop onto the floor. Gasping for air, I crawl away from him toward the front door. I know that if I can just make it to my purse and grab my keys, I’m home free. If he comes at me again, I’ll jab them in his balls. I don’t even care.

Ten feet. Just ten more feet, and I’ll be out the door. I’m too scared to turn around to see where he is, but I don’t hear his heavy footsteps. All I can hear is my labored breath and my hands slapping against the slick wood floor as I crawl around the corner.

Four feet. Almost there.

And I nearly jump out of my skin when my purse is dropped right in front of me. “Looking for this?” he eerily chuckles. I forgot I had it at the table with me. I clamber to my feet, grabbing my bag as I stand, and semi-jog toward the front door. My escape is near. I don’t want to look at him or speak to him. I just want to get away fast and never ever return.

As soon as my hand touches the doorknob, though, he laughs again. But it’s not his laughter that causes my stomach to drop into my knees; it’s the sound of him jingling my car keys . . . that were also on the table. I spin around and glare at him, determined not to let him get the best of me again. I don’t even know who this person in front of me is anymore. I momentarily saw this side of him last night, but I blamed it on him being drunk and the fact that I probably provoked it a little, even though I wasn’t conscious of it. But this? This isn’t the Drew I’ve been spending time with these last few months. This person is clearly disturbed . . . no, off his freaking rocker.

“Drew, you can either give me the keys, so I can leave, or I’m walking out and calling the police. It’s your choice.”

The creepy smile slides right off his face. “My choice, huh?” He dangles my keys from his index finger and stretches his arm toward me. “Come and get ‘em, then.”

And this is that moment when all of those years of watching horror movies come back to me. As I take a few slow steps toward him, I think of all those stupid girls in those movies, always thinking the nightmare is over and then the dead guy comes back to life. It never fails. My eyes dart to his. They are calculating, watching every movement of my body. Waiting to lure me in
just
close enough. But I realize it half a second too late. Just as I turn to run, he lunges at me, grabbing my shirt and jerking me backward into him, and I can feel the side of my shirt ripping as I struggle to get away, fighting with everything I have inside me.

“Just calm down, let me say something, and I’ll let you go,” he orders while deflecting an elbow to his stomach. I’ll be surprised if he actually follows through with it, but I decide to try it anyway. At this point, I just want out, and I’ll do anything I can to make that happen. No, this isn’t the Drew I know at all. This Drew scares the shit out of me.

“Good girl,” he praises when I will myself to freeze. Letting go of my shirt, he spins me around to face him. “Before you go, listen very carefully to what I’m saying to you. You and I
aren’t
finished . . . as a matter of fact, we just got started. I get that you’re mad at me, and you need some time to cool off. I’m good with that. But you
will
be back, and until then, I’m going to be waiting. When I want something, I don’t give up, and I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. You’re my entire world.”

He shifts his gears from creepy psycho to lovesick puppy in a matter of seconds, and it’s insanely unnerving. Bipolar much? I take a step back, and he holds my keys out to me again. This time I snatch them away before anything else can be done.

“Goodbye,” I barely manage to whisper when I turn to take the few steps back toward the door. As soon as the door clicks shut behind me, I feel as if my legs can’t hold my weight any longer. The adrenaline that was keeping me upright is running in low supply, so I use what is left to sprint to my car, fling myself inside, and immediately hit the door lock button. I even sling a little gravel when I quickly pull onto the highway.

It’s over. It was strange and scary, but it’s definitely over. And I’m glad I saw this side of him before we went any further. I’m no psychiatrist, but the man has some serious issues. I’ve picked up on a little bit of his controlling behaviors before, but I didn’t really suspect he was quite this bad. Let’s put it this way . . . I’ve never actually feared bodily harm in his presence before, not until last night. That added to tonight’s antics is completely unnerving.

I’m not sure how I’m even driving right now. My heart is nearly pounding out of my chest, and I have to force myself to breathe steadily enough to fight hyperventilation. My legs feel completely numb. My hands are trembling so hard that they’re slightly jerking the steering wheel from side to side. And the thing that shocks me the most is that there are tears streaming down each side of my nose. I don’t think I was aware of exactly how much he scared me back there.

It’s all over now, and I don’t have to see him again. That was a small price to pay to end the charade and to get a little piece of myself back. This time, I’m going to go about all of this a different way. There’s no forcing myself into love. I’m not so sure why I thought that was even an option. It’s not a matter of making myself get over Shane; it’s a matter of
allowing
myself to move on. I was so worried about how much my own pain was hurting everyone around me, I never let myself truly grieve. It’s time to unleash all of those feelings that I’ve kicked into the darkest corners of my soul, confront them, and then set them free. He doesn’t have to be completely gone from my heart in order to go forward with my life. He’ll always be a part of me, and he’ll forever be my first love.

I haven’t ever really agreed with the old saying that it’s better to have loved and lost than to have ever loved at all, but I understand it now. The loss hurts like hell, and probably always will, but I’m thankful for every second that he was a part of my life. He showed me what love should be like. He showed me what kind of love I deserve . . . the kind that I’m determined to find someday. Now that I have Drew out of my life, I refuse to settle for anything less than perfect.

My ringing cell phone rudely interrupts my grand motivational lecture, but I’m hesitant to answer it. If it’s Drew, I know I don’t want to talk to him. Unfortunately, my phone is at the bottom of my purse, so I don’t want to risk wrecking in order to see who’s calling. I glance down at the two buttons on my steering wheel—one that answers a call and one that declines—trying to decide on which one to press.

Giving up the battle, I punch the green one and hope for the best. “He-hello?”

“I told you that you’d regret giving me your number. But, hey, at least it’s not the middle of the night. I do get
some
credit for that, right?” Sawyer’s husky voice radiates all around me from my car speakers, and I feel myself relax immediately. The familiar sound encompasses me and calms my frazzled nerves like a soothing balm. For the first time since I left Drew’s house, I’m finally able to take a full breath and loosen the death grip I have on the steering wheel. “Makenna? Can you hear me?”

I’m so lost in the smooth baritone surrounding me that I forget that standard communication etiquette does require a reply when someone asks a question. “Oh, uh, yeah, I’m here. Sorry.”

“What’s that noise? Are you driving?”

“Yeah.”

He pauses for a moment before he speaks again. “Well, okay. I’ll let you go, so you won’t be distracted.”

“You don’t have to . . .” My words just drift off when I pull into my driveway. My house is completely dark and ominous, and the sudden realization that I don’t have everything I need to nail the back door shut hits me . . . it hits me like the hammer I don’t have. Or nails. Damn.