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Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(101)

By:Rebecca Donovan


A frantic voice yelled from the other side. It sounded like a child, a little girl. I fumbled with my blankets at the sound of her panicked voice. I stepped into the dark with the cool boards beneath my feet.

I couldn't make out what she was saying. Her pounding blocked out her words. I thought she was saying, "Get me out." She sounded so desperate. I needed to get to her.

I blindly searched for the door, my hands reaching out in front of me. I felt the hard surface with my finger tips. The wood shook violently beneath my hands as her small fists slammed against it. That's when I heard her scream, "Get out!" 

I gasped. My eyes shot open. The television was on, and I was lying on the couch. My heart pounded in my chest. The fear in her voice still reverberated in my head. I sat up with my hands shaking.

I eyed the stairs, considering going to bed, but knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. I picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels, but her plea still echoed through my head, sending a chill throughout my body. I wrapped the blanket around me tighter.

I picked up my phone, not really thinking about what I was doing, but needing another voice in my head other than the little girl's.

Almost instantly I heard, "Hi. Can't sleep?"

My lips curled into a half smile at the sound of his voice. "No. You either?"

"Nope. What are you watching?" Jonathan asked.





26. Disappointment



"So, how's Rachel?"

"She's okay," I said, sitting on my bed, running my fingers along the patterns of my bedspread. "She's been lying low the past couple of weeks. She's focused all of her energy on teaching me how to cook―which is... disastrous. And I've been trying to teach her how to play basketball―which is even more disastrous."

He laughed. Just thinking of her chasing after the ball every time she'd lift her head and lose control made me smile.

"It sounds like the two of you are figuring things out."

"We're trying," I admitted. "It's not always easy. There are still tears every so often, but nothing ice cream can't fix." I paused and then added, "She misses you."

"I'm not so sure she misses me," Jonathan rebutted. "I think she misses being with someone."

"Whatever," I said, "I'm not going to argue with you. But I'm pretty convinced it's you."

He let out a breathy laugh, knowing I'd argued with him anyway.

"Sorry you didn't win the championship. It was a close game."

"Yup," I sighed, having replayed the last two minutes of the game in my head repeatedly over the last week and a half.

"That foul was a bad call."

"Wait. You were there?"

"Uh, yeah," he confessed slowly. "I had to know how it would end."

"Well, it ended, that's for sure. I wish you would've said something to me."

"I thought it would be awkward, you know, with Rachel."

"Yeah, maybe," I admitted reluctantly. "It's just been a while since I've seen you."

"Maybe we should do something about that."

"Maybe."

"We should hang out sometime. Just... do something."

"Oh, yeah, something sounds fun," I teased. "I do that a lot, and I always have a blast."

"You're hilarious. But really, I'll pick a day and you'll just have to come along, to do whatever something I choose."

"Bring it," I taunted, making him laugh.

"So, tonight's the big night," he said with exaggerated excitement.

"Don't make fun," I threatened lightly. "It is a big night."

"Only because you're making it that way. Emma, let whatever's supposed to happen, happen."

"Great pep talk, thanks," I snapped sarcastically. "I don't want to talk about it; I might throw up on my phone, and I like this phone. I would hate to have to replace it."

Jonathan laughed again. "Fine. We won't talk about it. But don't let his dad get to you, no matter what."




       
         
       
        
"I won't," I sighed, knowing that Stuart Mathews was the most intimidating man on the planet―there was no way I was not going to let him get to me. He scared the crap out of me!

"Tell me what happens. The suspense is already killing me," he taunted, sounding overly dramatic.

"Ha ha," I jeered. "I gotta go. Don't be surprised if I call you at three a.m. with a nightmare about being stepped on by a giant men's dress shoe. I'd name a brand, but I have no idea what men wear."

"I'll be waiting," Jonathan chuckled. "Bye, Emma."