Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(58)

Drew smirked and entered his bedroom. He re-emerged a few minutes later with a jacket on and keys in his hand. We retreated down another staircase at the far end of the hall, with another man dressed in black posted at the top.

"I'll be back in a while," Drew told the guard.

"Don't worry. Everything's under control," he promised in return.

The stairs led to a hallway near a side entrance, away from the crowd. We disappeared without anyone noticing. His SUV was parked on the side of the house, making for an easy escape.

"Thanks for driving me," I said, securing the seatbelt.

"No problem," he responded, starting the vehicle.

We were quiet most of the ride. I was afraid to say anything, not wanting to evoke a conversation I wasn't prepared to have. As we continued, I looked around in a sudden panic.

"Where are we going?" I demanded in a rush.

"To your …  oh shit."

My heart was beating so fast, I couldn't catch my breath. Drew opened his mouth in aggrieved apology. He pulled the SUV into the parking lot of the closed coffee shop.

I closed my eyes, trying to pull some semblance of composure together.

"I can't believe I did that," Drew said lowly, pulling away and putting distance between me and the house. "Where do you live now?"

I gave Drew directions to my mother's house on Decatur Street, finding it easier to breathe the farther away we drove.

Drew pulled in the driveway behind Jonathan's truck. He put the SUV in park and turned toward me.

"It was good to see you," he said.

"Yeah," I returned, unbuckling the belt.

"Hey," he said, stopping me from reaching for the handle. "I wish I had known." I faced him, letting him continue but knowing I shouldn't. "You know, about what you were going through," he explained softly.

A twinge of nerves spiked through me. I closed off, determined not to let his words in.

"I know I was a dick at times, but I really did care about you."

Those words snuck in unexpectedly, and I felt a warmth rush through me. "I know."

"I tried to visit you," he shared, "when you were in the hospital. But the police wouldn't let me in. I really am sorry, Emma―for everything."

I smiled slightly. "Thanks, Drew. No one knew, so it wasn't just you."

"Do you think I could call you sometime?" he asked slowly. "You know, to keep in touch?"

"It was good to see you too, Drew," I said, without answering. "Thanks again for the ride." I opened the door and got out. He waited in the driveway until I opened the door. I didn't look back, shutting it behind me.





16. Ready?



I pulled the ear buds from my ears and set the magazine next to me on the bed when I heard the knock on my door.

"Hi," my mother smiled easing the door open. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," I encouraged, not sure why she was acting so nervous. Then I noticed the frame in her hand.

"I wanted you to have this," she said, propping the frame on the top of my bureau, next to Leyla and Jack's framed Christmas card. I slid off the bed to get a better look. "I figured you should have it, since it's the only one that escaped my clumsiness."



       
         
       
        

It was a picture of my father balancing me on his shoulder, smiling proudly. I was laughing, wearing a soccer uniform and holding up a trophy. My mouth turned up at the sight of it.

"Thank you."

"He loved watching you play soccer," she recalled. I examined the picture, but couldn't place the moment. I appeared to be around five or six. Perhaps I was too young to remember. "You understand why I don't have pictures of him out, right?" she asked tentatively. I nodded. "Well, it doesn't mean you can't."

I wasn't sure what to say. It was obvious it had taken a lot for her to share this with me. And I wanted to tell her how much it meant to me. I probably should have hugged her. But we just stood there awkwardly, having difficulty even meeting each other's eyes, forget about touching.

"So how was the party?" she finally asked, breaking up the emotional tension.

"It was a party," I sighed indifferently.

"Did anyone say anything about the sweater?" she pushed.

"Oh no!" I exclaimed, shaking my head.

"What?" she questioned in alarm.

"I forgot my sweater," I explained, upset with myself. "I can't believe I forgot it."

"Can't you just go there and get it?" she asked, not understanding my dilemma.

"Well... it was at my ex-boyfriend's house, so I'm not so sure that would be a great idea," I groaned.