Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(135)

"I know," I breathed, the disappointment heavy in my voice. I sunk down on the top step and pressed my elbows into my knees. The little bit of hope I'd held on to after the conversation with Rachel yesterday had slipped away as soon as I'd opened the door.

"I'm sorry, Em." Sara sat next to me and leaned her shoulder against mine. "I don't mean to be so harsh. I just don't want you to get hurt anymore. She doesn't deserve you."

My eyes welled and I nodded. I knew this was it. We weren't fixable. The disappointment made my chest ache as I swallowed hard. Giving up went against my nature, having never done it before. I could faintly hear the hopeful thoughts forming, that maybe she could change. I pushed them away before they got too loud. 

"Let's go," I finally declared, standing with Sara.

The front door opened, and Rachel appeared in the doorway, laughing, with her arm strung around the waist of a guy with blond hair and a large smile.

She looked up to see us. "Uh, I thought you were going to be away this week."

"I am," I said, moving past her with my shoulders pulled back―barely giving her a glance. "I'll be back next week to get my stuff."

"Emily!" she called after me from the porch. "What do you mean? Don't be angry with me. I'll clean up, I promise."

Without looking back, I got into Sara's car. I held it together while Rachel could see me. After we pulled out of the driveway and started down the street, I crumbled in half and cried. I knew I never was, and never would be, who she loved. And whether she deserved me or not, it was still painful to admit.





36. Restless



"I was just thinking about you. Can't sleep?"

"No," I answered softly.

"I didn't want to wake you, so I was waiting to call you tomorrow."

"Well, it is tomorrow," I offered with a slight grin.

"Barely," he laughed lightly. "I'm glad you called."

"I was afraid you wouldn't want to hear from me."

"Emma, I always want to hear from you. It's when I don't that makes me worry."

"I'm sorry. Really, I'm so sorry for not telling you what was going on with my mother. But I want to. I want to tell you everything."

"We'll talk when I get back, okay? For now, I just want to know you're all right."

"I'm better."

"The two a.m. call is convincing," he returned playfully.

A smile crept across my face. "I'll be able to sleep now that I've talked to you."

"So will I."

"Will you still call me tomorrow?" I requested, not wanting to sound too desperate.

"Yes, I will. You should try to get some sleep now."

"Okay," I whispered. Before I hung up, I called, "Evan."

"Yes, Emma."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."



I hoped I hadn't dreamt the call when I woke the next morning. It stirred, faint as whispers in my head, not seeming real. But when I looked at my call history and found his number at two eleven in the morning, I exhaled in relief.

"Wow, is that a smile I see on your face, Emma Thomas?" Sara teased when she walked in the room. "Did you actually have a nice dream for once?"

"Uh, no," I countered. "I talked to Evan last night."

"Really? What did you talk about?"

"Nothing much. It was late, but he promised to call me today."

"That's good," she returned with a smile. "He can't stay upset with you. He's kind of pathetic that way."

"Sara!" I balked. "He's not pathetic."

She smirked and continued to her closet.

"I can't wait for the next two months to be over," I sighed, lying on my back and looking up at the skylights with a pillow hugged to my chest. "Are you coming out to Santa Barbara with Evan and me this summer before school starts? I'm pretty sure Jared knows the guys we're staying with."

I waited, but Sara didn't respond. "Sara?"

She emerged from the closet with her mouth contorted. She couldn't look me in the eye, so I knew she had something to tell me that she didn't want to. "Sara, tell me."



       
         
       
        

Sara took a deep breath and pressed her knees against her bed, her face already apologizing for whatever it was she was about to say. I braced myself.

"I didn't accept the offer to go to CCA in San Francisco." My eyes widened in shock. We'd been planning to go to college in California for what seemed like forever, and her acceptance to California College of the Arts was perfect. We'd be near each other while I was at Stanford.