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Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(70)

By:Rebecca Donovan


"Do you need help?" Evan offered, moving toward her.

"No, I've got it," she grunted, pushing it up a bit more. She hopped down from the sink and smiled. "You can sit." The detector silenced and I sighed in annoyance.

I sat down at the small table in the spindly chair facing the wall. The legs shifted slightly as my weight settled on it. Evan sat to my right in the sturdiest of the three chairs.

My mother placed bowls of broccoli and mashed sweet potatoes in front of us, then proceeded to fork a chicken breast onto each of our plates.

"What do you want to drink?" I asked Evan, pushing my chair back, the legs slanting with the movement.

"Water's fine, thank you," Evan responded, fanning the smoke in front of him in amusement, while my mother and I acted like it was part of the dining experience. Well... it usually was.

As I poured us two glasses of water from the gallon in the refrigerator, my mother settled on the chair across from Evan with a large glass of red wine. I found the bottle on the counter, already two thirds depleted, and eyed her nervously. She still seemed to be okay, although she was busying herself inserting utensils in the bowls.

"Help yourself," she encouraged, placing a few stocks of broccoli on her plate.

I sat back down as Evan scooped a spoonful of sweet potatoes

"How's basketball?" my mother asked, ignoring her food to take a sip from her glass. Then she continued in a rush, "I love basketball. It took forever for me to convince Emily to play since she was so obsessed with soccer because of her father. But she's actually pretty good at it. I never played, but I love watching it. Soccer seems so all over the place, and I can never keep up with where the ball is and why they're blowing the whistle."

She stopped, noticing we were staring at her. I had no idea she was nervous until this moment.

"Sorry," she grimaced.

"It's okay," Evan consoled with a smile, giving me quick a glance out of the corner of his eye. I pressed my lips together in apology. He reached for my hand under the table and squeezed it. "Basketball's great."

"Did you make the playoffs?" I could tell she was trying to concentrate on one sentence at a time, taking a sip after the question. Her cheeks glowed red.

"Barely," Evan admitted, setting his fork down to answer her. "We have an away game Thursday, and if we survive that, we'll play at Weslyn on Saturday night."

"I have to see you play," my mother returned excitedly. "If you make it 'til Saturday, I'm there."

"Great," Evan replied politely, flashing me another glance as I remained still―trying not to show how disturbed I was to have my mother attend my boyfriend's basketball game.

"Emma's playing Friday," Evan revealed.

"That's if we win Wednesday," I rebutted.

"You will. Your team's favored for the championship."

"That would be so amazing," my mother burst out. "We'd definitely have to have a party." My eyes widened at the thought, making Evan laugh.

"What?" my mother asked, not understanding the impact of her suggestion.

"Emma and parties don't coexist well," Evan explained with a smirk.

"Come on, Emma," my mother begged. "It would be so much fun."

"Yeah, no" I shook my head adamantly.

"Well, I'm having a party for my birthday in a few weeks," she shared. "You'll be here for that, right?" She looked at both of us eagerly.



       
         
       
        

"Of course," I answered, not sure what I was agreeing to.

"Evan, did Emily ever tell you about the time she fell out of a tree?" She laughed lightly as I rose with my plate in my hand. My mother pushed her plate away, having barely touched it.

Evan began to stand. "I've got it. You can sit," I urged, taking his plate. He looked to me for assurance. I smiled with a nod and took the plates to the sink.

"No, I haven't heard that one," he answered, lowering back in the chair.

I listened intently while I loaded the dishwasher, not sure if I even knew the story she was about to tell.

"Emily was always running around, climbing trees and covered in dirt. That's why we got her involved in sports, so she wouldn't kill herself jumping off rocks."

Evan chuckled at the image. I rinsed the dishes absentmindedly, trying to remember.

"We lived in the woods, surrounded by trees, bugs and whatever other creatures slithered out there―it was pretty awful." I turned to catch her shudder. "Sorry, I'm not a bug person."