Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(47)

"I'm not," he confirmed, then corrected with, "I wasn't supposed to. I had to drive her home; then she asked me not to leave her. I just … " He pressed his lips together, not finding the words to support his decision.

"You know she's always going to ask you to stay."

"And that's the reason I shouldn't."

I was confused by what he said, and slightly alarmed. But I let him decide if he was going to explain what he meant, and he eventually said more than I expected to hear. "I sent out applications to graduate schools, and the closest one is in DC."

"Oh," I breathed, starting to understand, and not liking where this was headed.

"I like being with her. She's a lot of fun, and has the craziest perspective on the world. She doesn't ask questions about me or where I came from; she only cares about who I am now and just wants to be with me." 

"And that's good, right?' I asked, suddenly curious why keeping his past hidden was important to him. But then again, I was the last person to want to talk about mine.

"Yes, not talking about my past is a relief, honestly," Jonathan replied. "But, I don't want her to need me like she does. I just want … " He searched for the right words. "I don't want any pressure."

"She's always needed someone," I blurted. I hadn't planned to say it, but as soon as I did, I knew it was true. I looked up at him, my honesty shrouding me with guilt. "I didn't mean it like it sounded … "

"You're probably right," he interrupted. "I'm not sure it's me she needs, exactly."

I started pulling at a thread on the blanket.

"I shouldn't really be talking about my relationship with you anyway," he suddenly said. "Sorry, I'm sure it's weird."

"A little." But my conclusion started to make sense, looking back over the years. She'd never been without a man in her life, even for short spurts of time. I'd always believed it was her desperate way of replacing my father.

I looked over at Jonathan and wondered what she'd seen in him that reminded her of my father. Maybe it was his smile. When it spread across his face, the edges of his eyes would crinkle into a smile too. My lips curled up just thinking about it.

"What?" he asked, catching me in my memories.

"Nothing," I recovered, adjusting the blanket uncomfortably. "I was just thinking. I can understand why she'd want you to stay."

"Then does that make me a horrible person for needing some space?"

"No," I answered. "I'm just not sure how she'll do with the space. She really likes you."

"I like her too," he admitted with a sigh. "But, you'll be here with her."

I let out a short laugh, "It's not the same."

Jonathan grinned, his eyes locked with mine. My smile faltered for a moment when I couldn't look away.

"I guess I should go to bed," I blinked, pulling the blanket off of me. Before I got to the stairs, I turned to him and said, "Jonathan?"

"Yes, Emma."

"Please don't hurt her," I asked, my voice soft and edged with emotion. "I don't want to see her hurt again."

He paused for a moment, scanning my face thoughtfully. "I don't want to hurt her either." He offered a consoling smile before I turned away and walked up the stairs, not sure if he'd promised what I asked―fearful that he hadn't.





14. Under the Surface



Jonathan wasn't in the house in the morning. Neither was my mother, who was once again fulfilling her obligations as executive assistant at the engineering firm. We didn't see Jonathan for the rest of the week either, and she appeared to be adjusting to the separation.

I tried to keep her busy. I even suggested a cooking lesson one night, but after the smoke detectors went off and we had to open every window in the house for ventilation, we opted to eat out. She worked late a couple of nights, coming home after I'd eaten and joining me on the couch to watch television.

"I hope he doesn't leave me," she uttered one night with a glass of wine in her hand. She had kicked off work shoes under the coffee table, and her blouse was untucked from her skirt. She was staring at the TV, but her thoughts were obviously with him.

"He cares about you." I tried to sound encouraging, but it fell flat.

"When's Evan get back?" she asked, changing the subject. Her gaze readjusted to the present, and she looked over at me with bright eyes.



       
         
       
        

"Sunday," I answered slowly, not prepared for the "on" switch to her personality.