Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(118)

"Thank you," I whispered, still not processing half of what he'd just said.

"Emma," he beckoned. I looked up at the aged face that remained impassive despite the intensity flickering in his eyes. "You may call me anytime, for any reason. Please understand that. I know you do not know me now. But I hope to gain the same trust and respect that I earned from your father. In the meantime, I wouldn't advise alerting Rachel of this visit, or your inheritance."

"He never trusted her, did he?"

"No," Charles answered flatly. "He loved you more than anything, and wanted you to have both parents in your life. But he did not trust her with his finances, or with you."

"What?" I questioned with raised brows. "What do you mean with me?"

"He hired a woman to care for you when he was at work. Concerned with Rachel's impulsivity, he didn't want you left alone with her. Unfortunately, we weren't able to secure an alternate custody agreement, in case of his death, before the accident. He was trying to find a way around the legal rights of a birth mother so that you could be raised by someone who was better suited to care for and love you.

"In the meantime, we set up a portion of his estate to go to Rachel, along with the monthly allowances to care for you, which then became accessible to George and Carol when they took custody of you.

"This was never supposed to be your life, Emma. He wanted so much more for you, and I believe he would be happy to know that you will finally get it."

"But I'd trade it all, every penny, to have him back," I wanted to say. I had a hard time raising my eyes to meet his, still too vulnerable with emotion.



       
         
       
        

We sat in silence for a moment before Charles picked up each paper and placed it in the folder. He handed it to me. I shook my head. "I think you should keep it. I don't want her to find it."

Charles nodded in agreement and inserted the folder into his case. "Then you should program my number into your phone and not keep my card."

I took out my phone and saved his number under the initials "CS".

"It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Emma," Charles said, standing and pushing the kitchen chair back into the table. "Do you have any other questions before I leave?"

"No," I answered lowly, my mind spinning with more than I could process.

"Please call me if you do."

I walked him to the door. He turned to me and placed his hat on his head. "Take care of yourself." He walked out the door before I could respond. I watched him as he continued down the walkway to the large shiny black car awaiting him on the street. I shouldn't have been surprised when a driver stepped out and opened the back door for him.

I was still staring at the empty space when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and answered it.

"We're getting out of practice early," Evan announced excitedly. The lightness in his voice was a shock to my ears. I felt as if I'd just sailed through a hurricane. "Do you want to meet me at my house in an hour?"

I realized I hadn't even started the laundry. "An hour. Um... sure."

I hung up the phone and mindlessly went into the basement, sorting through the clothes to make sure I washed something to wear the next day.

Then I went to my room and sat on my bed, still in a daze. I eyed the drawing on my dresser that Leyla and Jack had sent me, and went to pick it up. As much as I missed them, I kept thoughts of them at bay so I wouldn't be tortured by my choices.

I inspected the woman in the picture. The one with the grey hair. My grandmother.

This family would never be mine.

And then it hit me.

I buckled over like I'd been hit in the stomach and slumped to the floor. I still couldn't comprehend everything that had just happened, but one truth slammed into me with such force I couldn't catch my breath.

I was never supposed to exist.





31. What If



I still hadn't completely pulled myself back together by the time I arrived at Evan's. He was sitting on the front porch swing reading a textbook when I pulled in.

"Hi," I said, sitting next to him, intoxicated by him immediately. It was obvious from his wet hair that he'd just taken a shower. "What are you reading?"

"Nothing interesting," Evan replied, closing the book and setting it on the porch below the swing. He lifted his arm and I nuzzled in under it, resting my head on his chest, breathing him in. "I like this week." 

I knew he was talking about the weather, and the fact that we were sitting outside in short sleeves in April, but my thoughts were somewhere else when I inadvertently laughed in contradiction.