Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(84)

"It's okay." I tried to sound unaffected, despite the pain twisting in my chest. "You go. I'm pretty tired anyway."

"Em, are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, swallowing against the tightness in my throat, forcing the emotion out of my voice. "It's been a stupid night, and I'm really exhausted. I'll see you tomorrow?" My voice shook despite my efforts. I closed my eyes to fend off the tears.

"Okay," he answered, and before he could say anything else, I hung up the phone. I stood in the middle of the kitchen with the broom in my hand, trying to breathe against the swelling in my chest.

I took a deep breath before opening my eyes, turning everything off until I felt nothing. Then I began sweeping up my mother's fit.



       
         
       
        

"Let me help you."

I turned to find Jonathan in the doorway. I didn't answer as he filled the mop bucket with soap and water and began wiping the wine that was running down the cabinets. We remained silent while we cleaned.

After bringing the bag of broken glass outside to the trash, I collapsed on the second step in the foyer, covering my face in my hands with my elbows propped on my legs, emotionally drained. Jonathan shut off the kitchen light and sat next to me.

"What's going to happen now?" I asked without looking up. "Did you end things with her?"

"I wasn't about to do that in her condition," he explained lowly. "I'm sorry you had to see any of that. It really wasn't about you."

I lifted my head. "I have no idea what happened tonight, but she was so... angry. I think she does blame me, but I don't know what I did."

Jonathan shook his head in contradiction. "This is between me and Rachel. It has nothing to do with you."

"But you are going to leave her now, aren't you?" I concluded dryly.

Jonathan was quiet for a moment. "Do you want me to stay?"

My eyes tightened, not sure how to answer. I didn't know exactly what he was asking.

"If I left right now, would it be worse for you... to live here?"

"Don't worry about me," I assured him without much conviction. "That wouldn't be the right reason to stay anyway. It would only be worse in the end, for everyone. She'll just have to get over you."

"I'm sorry, Emma," he offered in a hushed tone.

"Me too," I breathed. He peered at me with sympathetic eyes, pulling me in. It took me a moment before I was able to break away. "I think I've had enough drama tonight, so I'm going to bed."

"And I should go," he responded, standing with me. I paused in my ascent when he opened the door.

"Good-bye, Jonathan."

"I'm not leaving you, Emma," he assured me. "If you ever need me, I'm here."

"Thanks," I answered, exhaustion heavy in my voice. I watched him disappear behind the closed door and continued to my room.

As I pulled the blankets over me, my phone beeped. I'm coming over appeared on the screen.

I'm in bed. I'll see you in the morning, I typed back.

10am, my house?

OK.

I sunk under the blankets, not looking forward to seeing anyone in the morning―not even Evan.





22. Inside Out



I didn't remember sleeping. But the next thing I knew, it was morning. It seemed unlikely that I made it through the night without a nightmare, especially since I was still exhausted when I pulled the covers back―but I couldn't remember that either. 

It was eerily quiet while I got ready, other than the house's occasional groans. There still wasn't any movement when I shut the front door behind me. I sat in my car for a minute before starting it, gripping the steering wheel with my eyes fixed on the house like I was expecting it to tell me what to do―how to make everything better. It just remained still, staring back at me.

"Sure," I whispered, "now you're silent." I took a long drawn breath and started the car.



I pulled into the Mathews' driveway to find more cars than usual. Along with Vivian and Evan's BMWs and Stuart's Mercedes were a black Lexus and a blue Prius. I parked in the middle of the long driveway, blocking them all in―figuring we'd be leaving as soon as Evan put on his jacket.

I knocked. No one answered. I knocked again and waited longer―still no one came to the door. I turned the knob and slowly let myself in, cautiously scanning the kitchen.

"Hello?" I called out, creeping further into the large kitchen. That's when I heard laughter. I stopped to listen and then moved toward the voices―leading me down the hall.

One of the doors along the long hallway, a door that was always shut when I visited, was cracked open. I could hear the voices coming from inside. I recognized Evan's.