Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(52)

       
         
       
        

There were so many questions I wanted to ask him, but shock stole them from my tongue. I eventually excused myself to my room.

Jonathan remained on the couch, not leaving as he'd promised―but not making any attempt to go to my mother's room.

Despite being exhausted, I couldn't fall back to sleep. I wondered if he was downstairs lying awake as well, trying to figure out what might have happened to me. I couldn't even imagine how to begin to ask someone to reveal their nightmares.





15. Another Chance



"Jonathan, I'm so sorry. I promise I'll be better."

My eyes blinked open, only moments after they'd finally shut. I remained still, listening.

"Please, don't leave me," her words were broken with emotion. Footsteps creaked down the stairs. Cries filtered through my door. I didn't dare move, fearing they'd know I could hear them.

"I won't leave," he stated from the bottom of the stairs. His voice didn't hold signs of promise, but consoled with a defeated breath. "I need to clear my head, okay? But I'll come back tonight and we'll talk about it."

"You promise?" she asked, in an elevated voice that was stressed with desperation. His answer wasn't verbal because the next thing I heard was the door shutting, followed by gasping sobs at the top of the stairs.

It was difficult to listen to her. My insides ached, wanting to take away the hurt―but I didn't. I pulled up into a ball and waited. Waited for her to find her breath and put herself back together. Her whimpers only quieted with a click of her door.

I crawled out of my bed and dressed in running pants and a long sleeved running shirt, pulling a fleece over it. I needed to get out of the house, away from the consuming emotions. I tied my sneakers and slipped on gloves, hiding my hair under a baseball cap. The brisk air filled my lungs as I stepped out the door.

The sun was out, and the temperature was above freezing, melting away the edges along the shoveled sidewalk. I eased into a jog and breathed deep, releasing the tension in my shoulders as I followed the concrete squares beneath my feet. I forgot my iPod, which would have been ideal to distract me from playing the previous night over and over in my head. Instead, the racing thoughts remained trapped.

I explored the intertwining neighborhood, finding a park a few streets away. It was filled with kids in snowsuits jumping off whatever they could into the thick mounds of snow. Their laughter and squeals were a welcome sound in contrast to the cries that echoed in my head.

As I rounded the corner of the park, my jogging slowed at the sight of the blue pick-up truck. When I saw Jonathan sitting on a bench staring at nothing, I stopped. I considered turning around and running in a different direction, pretending I didn't see him. But then he spotted me, and I wasn't going anywhere. 

I walked toward him, tucking my hands in my fleece pockets.

"Hey," I offered, standing in front of him. "It's not bad out today. It's not California, but it's not bad."

Jonathan nodded lightly. His eyes remained troubled. I sat down next to him on the wooden bench. Neither of us said anything for at least a minute.

I was contemplating getting up to continue my run when he spontaneously confessed, "My father didn't like me very much. I wasn't submissive like my mother. I didn't worship him like my younger brother. I didn't let him control me, so he'd do anything he could to break me. My life's been complicated, and I can't..." The words trailed away and he stared into the distance.

"I can't do this. This …  drama." He took a breath and finally looked over at me. "I need my life to be simple. I need to know what's coming, to be in control. I don't handle the unexpected very well." He dropped his gaze.

"I understand. So does that mean you're done? That you're leaving?"

"Why? You think I should?" He waited for me to answer.

"I don't think I'm the person to tell you what to do. But I don't want her to hurt either."

"Emma, I promise that I don't want to hurt you... I mean, her." I turned toward him, confused by his stuttering sentence. His eyes flickered in apology. "I don't want to hurt Rachel," he emphasized. "You believe me, right?" His dark brown eyes delved into me the way that they did, invading my thoughts and leaving me too vulnerable to resist. He held me captive until I was able to pull away with a shiver. "Right?"

I nodded, staring down at my lap.

"My aunt didn't like me very much either," I blurted out of nowhere, redirecting my gaze toward the house across the street. "Actually, I'm pretty sure she hated me. I mean, you don't strangle a person if you like them even a little, do you?"