Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(174)

"Thank you," I expressed sincerely. He hesitated before giving me a brief, firm hug.

"You know where we are," he said to me before getting in the car.

Sara remained still, leaning against the SUV. I paused, but she hadn't said a word to me since I booked my flight two days ago, and I wasn't expecting her to now.

I picked up the duffle bag and rolled the suitcase after me, headed toward the check-in counter.



       
         
       
        

"Emma!" Sara yelled, jogging to catch up. I closed my eyes and exhaled in relief, stopping to wait for her. Her eyes were glassy as her brow scrunched in agony. "Don't do this. Please. This isn't what's supposed to happen."

I remained unaffected and smiled at her reassuringly. "It'll be okay."

"Emma, please!"

"I'll see you in a few weeks, right?" I confirmed, my eyes soft.

She swallowed and pressed her lips together with a nod. Then she grabbed my shoulders. Her words poured out passionately, "You're making the biggest mistake of your life. Don't do this. I know you're going to regret it."

I waited for her to let me go, and replied in an even tone, "I'll see you soon." I turned from her and walked away.

~~~~~

I pulled the key out of the door and tossed my backpack on the bed. I opened the small refrigerator to get a water, trying to ignore the fact that Lyle was in the room. Unfortunately, he was hard to ignore.

I froze with the door in my hand, recognizing the box on his bed as he shamelessly rummaged through its contents.

"What the hell?" I demanded, furious, slamming the fridge shut. I pulled the box off of his bed and inspected it.

"I was looking for a sweatshirt," he explained feebly. His invasion of my things wasn't new. He'd done it a lot in the past few months, but this was crossing the line.

"You're not going to find one in here," I scowled angrily. "Give me those." I snatched the pictures from his hands.

"Relax, Evan," he countered, flopping back down on his bed. "Who's the girl anyway? She's pretty hot."

"None of your business," I snapped, placing the photos back in the box, on top of the camera case I hadn't touched in months. I hesitated, removing the square envelope from the stack. I ran my fingers over my mother's name written in her distinct penmanship. A cold current filtered through me at the touch of the thick paper between my fingers.

The letter that was once sealed in this envelope changed everything. I never got to read it. But whatever she'd written to my mother kept me from following after her, forcing me to stay on the East coast while she escaped to California. No explanation. No good-bye. That letter changed my life, and I never saw a single word.

I set the envelope back in the box and paused before closing it, taking in the image of her laughing. Her laugh was infectious, lighting up her caramel brown eyes, creasing them around their edges. She reminded me of the picture of her father she used to have on her dresser.

I had to look away. I knew I was only torturing myself. She left. She left me here.

Just before I closed the box I realized something was missing. I looked around the room and spotted the sweatshirt hanging on the back of the chair at Lyle's desk. 

"What the fuck, Lyle!" I bellowed, grabbing it.

"What would I want with a Stanford sweatshirt?" he defended with a roll of his eyes.

"If you touch my things again, I'll break your hand," I threatened. He didn't look up from his textbook, but I knew he'd heard me. The color flushed across his face.

I shoved the sweatshirt in the box and folded the flaps, hiding the image of her laughing at something I'd said. I slid the box into the bottom of my closet, next to the others.

"I don't get it," he muttered. "What's up with the boxes anyway?"

I closed the closet door, shutting away all of the reasons I was compelled to say, "I don't know if I'm staying."