Breathe Again

by Rachel Brookes

  Formatted by E.M. Tippetts Book Designs

  The Breathe Series

  Reading order:

  Just Breathe (Book #1)

  Breathless (Book #1.5)

  Breathe Again (Book #2)

  Dedicated to those who never thought they deserved a second chance…. it’s what you do with your second chance that counts.

  When your past meets your present

  and your present threatens your future,

  remember to

  Tate

  IT HAD been two fucking months.

  Two long, tortuous, mind-numbing months since I’d left New York to return to the loneliness and solitude Los Angeles now offered. Two months since Savannah Rae had asked me to leave.

  For two months I moved through life with no concern, no reason, no expectation, no anything. Sleep, eat, and work was all I did. It had become my routine, my livelihood, my ultimate distraction. That was my life now, the life I had been given because of a vindictive bitch named Chelsea. The life I was now living without Savannah.

  Tanzi had tried to get me out of my rut, Jack had been taking me surfing more than usual and Mom had even hand delivered red velvet cupcakes to me, but despite their best efforts, there was nothing that was able to shift my mood. Like an impending storm rumbling over the Hollywood hills, my mood darkened with every new day that passed. The intensity of this whole situation was frustrating the shit out of me and I constantly asked myself what the hell I could do about it.

  The ever growing pit of unanswered questions was taking over every inch of my existence, and the slowly twisting knot in my stomach from walking around not knowing whether I still had a girlfriend was expanding by the second.

  This shit had to stop. Right. Fucking. Now.

  I, Tate Connors, never ever did this. I didn’t sit on the beach contemplating life with my surfboard beside me and sand wedged in places it shouldn’t be, and I sure as shit didn’t pine over or allow my life to come to a half for a fucking girl.

  But the girl in question wasn’t just any girl. She was my girl.

  The stubborn as fuck, sexy as sin, and sweet as candy Savannah Rae.

  My girl.

  “You thinking about Sav again?” Jack’s amused voice rumbled beside me.

  A growl escaped my dry throat as I shot him a don’t fuck with me look. Observant fucker he was.

  “She is the only fucking thing I think about Jack.”

  It wasn’t a hidden fact that I loved Savannah with every part of my being. Every time my eyes landed on her, I drank her in like it was the last drop of water my desperate mouth could find in an abandon desert. But now, as I was on a forced Savannah hiatus, I was craving her like a junkie craved every last bit of smack they could summon. I needed my hit, but no matter the intense life-alternating, mind-shattering effects of the drug, there would always come that time when the junkie questioned their addiction. That time when they were locked in the solitude of their turbulent mind, battling the fears, insecurities, highs, and lows brought on by their drug-induced haze. The moment when they questioned whether the addiction was really worth it all.

  For me, my moment of clarity happened barely an hour ago after I’d paddled out behind the waves to Jack’s and my secret surf spot in San Diego. As the ocean calmed around me, my brain rumbled like a freight train. The peace of the ocean made everything shimmer and gleam as painful reality swept through me. As heart breaking as it was and as much as it felt like my heart was ripping out of my chest, I was slowly coming to the realization that I couldn’t wait for her to make up her mind. I was either worth it or I wasn’t. What else could I possibly do to prove to her that I was hers and hers alone? How could I possibly get her to believe in me when it was clear she didn’t believe in us?

  In the middle of the serenity of the Pacific Ocean, I made the decision that would make or break us. I would give this, us—Tate and Savannah—one last fight, one last earth-defying attempt to shake it into her that we were forever. I’d fight for her. I’d fight the fucked-up situation we found ourselves, and I’d fight for the life that I deserved, that we deserved, that Jellybean deserved.

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “What can I do, Jack? She made her decision. We have barely said two words to each other since I left. The only thing we talk about is Jellybean, and I am fucked if I can go on living like this. I fucking love her. I know that, you know that, Tanzi knows that. Hell, she knows that, but what can I do?”

  “Go to her? Tell her exactly what you are telling me. You have walked around with the world on your shoulders for the past two months. I love you, man, but you have been fucking hell to live with. You can fix this.”

  Of course I could fix this, but I was becoming tired. There was only so much my heart could bear, and as I sat on my favorite beach as the world turned around me, I made the life-changing decision.

  Our future was in her court now. She held the future of Sav and Tate in her beautiful hands and the choice was hers. One simple word would change everything. Yes or no. Did she want us or didn’t she? An answer that I would be gaining so soon.

  The face I had been dreaming about, the body I craved, and the heart I wanted to save was coming back to Los Angeles in two weeks and she had no clue I knew.

  Savannah

  Two weeks later

  TATE HAD been right. My one-month stay in New York turned into a three-and-a-half-month stint. My time in New York would have been incredible if I wasn’t fighting the constant battle of emotions over whether I missed or despised Tate. My thoughts were turbulent to say the least. One moment I was crying for what I had potentially lost and the next I was furious at what I had seen and the independent woman roared within me. Most days were bearable because I threw myself into work, starting before the sun rose and finishing long after the sun set, taking on new projects and attending after-hour functions—anything to keep my mind active and away from the reality I faced. But once work finished, I was back with the solitude of New York, the isolation from the world that I had so carefully built around myself, the world that offered a comfort I had been craving since I was ten years old. It was those lonely late nights that were the hardest. The time just before I would drift off to a restless sleep. Those few minutes before sleep engulfed me when my mind was filled with nothing but Tate.

  I couldn’t deny that our time together in New York had been anything but perfect. Having Tate with me, sharing my pregnancy together, having copious amounts of amazing sex, and having him within arm’s reach was what every girl wanted. But perfection never seemed to stay in the life of Savannah Rae for long, and it had soon been shattered to a million sharp and violently jagged pieces when Hurricane Bitch-Face-of-the-Century Chelsea decided to tear through our lives, destroying and upturning everything in her path.

  What a fucked-up situation I now found myself in. Just thinking of her made my blood boil. A hatred simmered inside me, a hatred I had never felt for another person before. As if life were trying to twist the knife currently wedged in my heart just a little more, my mind ran through the events of that fateful day time and time again. It crept into my thoughts when I was wide awake and haunted me when I was fast asleep. The image of her and Tate having sex felt like it was tattooed on my eyes, engrained in my memories to forever torment me and remind me that she had him first.

  My reaction at seeing the video had been brutal, and instinct had kicked in without any consideration of facts. My defenses had shot up and the wall that Tate had smashed through had reappeared within seconds, brick by brick, blocking my heart from his. My words “Just leave, Tate” still echoed in my ears, tormenting and haunting. Tate had kept a promise to me on that day though, a painful promise I wished we had never made. He had promised that he
would always do what I asked of him, and he had done exactly what I’d asked. He’d left and we hadn’t spoken about that day since.

  My heart ached when I awoke each morning to find a text message from Tate. His concern and love for our unborn child was incredible. Questions about how I was feeling and whether I was eating and drinking enough were filling my inbox, and most recently he had taken it upon himself to send random pregnancy facts. That was all we talked about—my pregnancy and Jellybean. He hadn’t mentioned what happened once, and I hadn’t brought it up either. The thought of having that conversation over the phone and not being able to look him in the eye as we spoke killed me. His eyes had always been the key to seeing his truths, and they’d spoken to me so many times when words had failed him.

  The moment Blake had brought me back to the hotel room after I had fled, I had been slapped in the face by the hard hand of reality and the seriousness of what had just happened. Chelsea had been long gone, but her path of destruction had been far from over. She’d had one goal in mind and she’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted. Her pitiful and hateful desire to drive a wedge of mistrust between Tate and me had exploded around us.

  In my haze of tears and spiraling emotions, I had taken a nervous step into the empty room and immediately noticed two things—the scent of Tate still lingering in the air and the plain white envelope that rested on my pillow, with Tate’s perfect scripted handwriting on the front. Why did everything about him have to be perfect? Reading his words had destroyed me and I’d collapsed on the floor, sobs echoing through the air. I had soon been in Blake’s arms, being lifted to the bed that only hours earlier had witnessed the love Tate and I had for each other.

  Perfect and intense was the only way to describe the relationship Tate and I had been handed, and that was how it had been since day one. Intensity and Tate and Sav went hand in hand with jealousy, trust issues, frantic, earth-shattering sex, and unimaginable love. Never again would I ever experience that kind of love with anyone but him, and that was what terrified yet exhilarated me.

  Tate was it for me, like a ray of sunshine that had lit up my constantly cloudy days, but here I was, on the other side of the country, petrified about going back to Los Angeles because of what could be waiting for me. The unknown scared yet energized me. I had a fierce independence, but I wanted nothing more than for my independence to be taken and owned by Tate.

  My body came to a sharp halt as my eyes caught my reflection bouncing off the mirror on the far wall of the bathroom. My eyes grew wide as they traveled down the length of my body and focused solely on the soccer ball that had decided to attach itself to the front of me and the impressive set of boobs that had taken ownership of my chest. My girls, as I called them, were always fabulous, but holy shit these were freaking amazing! I was five months pregnant, and my body was proudly showing off my pregnancy to the world. There were days when I still couldn’t believe I was pregnant, but then I would feel the tiny little butterfly kisses within me and then the tiniest of kicks and I knew that Jellybean was with me. I often found myself cradling my precious cargo, and my baby was my constant company in the loneliness that was New York. Jellybean, Mr. Davenport, Lucas, and surprisingly Blake.

  Since everything had blown up with Tate, Lucas and Blake had become my biggest supporters. They checked in with me every day, sometimes more than once. Blake and I were friends, and we both knew that. I knew I was going to get hell for being in contact with him, but I saw the way the whole Chelsea incident had affected him. I had seen the way he had looked at Tate as it all had unfolded around us, and I couldn’t put my finger on it but I knew he needed a friend. Blake’s main concern was for Tate, and he constantly asked if I had spoken to him. He and Chelsea had been long over. Blake wouldn’t tell me, but I knew she was holding something over his head. All he would tell me was that it was something he needed to talk to Tate about.

  Tearing my gaze away from my stomach, I rushed through the room at a million miles an hour, throwing the last of my belongings into my brand-new suitcase. My shopping addiction and being on my own in the city meant that my time had been spent buying too many clothes for myself and Jellybean. Seriously, my kid was going to be the best dressed kid around.

  I picked up the tiny white jumpsuit I had found that proudly displayed the Australian flag and smiled. My baby would always know that Australian blood was running through its veins. My pride for my country would not be lost on my child, and the thought of taking Jellybean to Australia to experience the beaches, the weather, the meat pies, and the Tim Tams excited me. My child—fuck, what a mind trip.

  I cradled my stomach and lowered my voice. “Well, Jellybean, we are going home today. We are going to see Papa and we are going to see your aunts and uncles.” I swallowed hard and slammed my eyes closed. “And we are going to see Daddy.”

  Goodbye, New York. Thanks for the memories.

  “WeLL LOOK at you, sexy momma.”

  My cheeks flushed the moment the words left Lucas’s lips and floated through my ears. Without a second of hesitation, his arms enclosed around me tightly, forcing the suitcase I was wheeling out of the exit of LAX to thud to the tiled floor below me. I fell hard against his firm body, my head resting over the thumping of his heartbeat. Tears threatened to spill over as the emotions of being back in Los Angeles flooded me. The flight had been uneventful, and now, as I stood in the California sun, I was beaming.

  I was home. I was back to familiarity. I was back to the chaos of Los Angeles. I was safe in Lucas’s arms.

  “You like my new accessory?” I asked, stepping out of his arms and rubbing my hand over my expanding stomach with a raised eyebrow.

  “It looks good on you. It really brings out your…” His eyes traveled down from my face, and with a smirk that lit up his entire face, he took in my ever growing boobs. “Eyes.”

  I snorted. “Oh yes. My eyes are looking amazing, even if I do say so.”

  “The guys back at the apartment will have a field day looking at your eyes.” Lucas’s laughter echoed around us as he grabbed my suitcase from the floor and started to dodge through the raucous crowd of recent arrivals who were standing in what seemed like a never-ending line, waiting for a cab. I followed diligently behind him, laughing softly to myself.

  Suddenly, I stopped as his words finally hit me. Guys? Apartment? “What do you mean back at the apartment?”

  “It’s Jack’s birthday so there is a small get-together planned for this afternoon at his place and then I’m sure we will move to Red Velvet tonight.”

  Fuck! Jack’s birthday. His place meant Tate’s place, and Red Velvet meant Tate Connors. I felt the color drain from my face, dripping and flooding the floor below me. My heart beat furiously in my chest, and my ears were swamped with white noise. I felt like I was thirteen years old and going to a birthday party where my crush would be. Pull yourself together, Savannah.

  “Do I have to go? Can’t we pretend that I am not here?” I dropped my eyes, hoping to god that my best attempt at puppy-dog eyes was working.

  Lucas shook his head and chuckled. Obviously my attempt had failed. “If Jack knows you are back in LA and didn’t come to his party, shit will go down.”

  He was right.

  Whether I liked it or not, I had one option and one option only. I was going to this damn party and there wasn’t anything I could damn well do about it. Independent Sav hated this, but the time had come for me to shuffle through my suitcase and locate my big girl panties. Swallowing hard, I stopped at Lucas’s car and watched as he lifted my suitcase into the trunk.

  Slamming the trunk shut, he turned towards me and immediately his eyes swam over my face and narrowed in hard. Damn my face and its constant need to show the world what I was thinking. He put his hands on my shoulders and held me still. “It’s so good to have you back, Sav.”

  “It’s good to be back. I’ve missed you.” I dropped my eyes as my voice cracked. “I’ve missed everyone.”

  “You nee
d to speak to him.” Lucas lowered his voice calmingly, knowing exactly who I had been referring to. “You know that I haven’t always been Team Tate, but he is struggling big time. You don’t have to do anything tonight, but please think about it.”

  Was I hearing this correctly? Was I suddenly in an alternate world where Leprechauns and Centaurs roamed free through deliciously green fields of a fairytale world—a world where Lucas and Tate were friends?

  Lucas dropped his hands from my shoulders and moved quickly around the front of the car and slid into the driver’s seat while I climbed in the car and buckled up in the passenger’s seat, still trying to comprehend the thought of Tate and Lucas having any form of friendship.

  “Everyone is going to freak the fuck out when you turn up.”

  I twisted in my seat, directing my attention to him. “Is Ali going to be there? I’ve missed that gorgeous little pixie.”

  “Uh, no she isn’t.” His eyes ripped away from mine and focused on the road ahead as he pulled away into traffic. It was as clear as day that he was refusing to look at me. The distance in his voice immediately grabbed my attention. What the hell had happened since I had been away? First Tate and Lucas and now Lucas and Ali.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why the hell not?”

  “She is working.”

  “Lucas Evan Douglas, do not lie to me. Where is she?”

  He swallowed hard, eyes darting to mine quickly before looking back on the road ahead of him. “She is staying with her parents for a few days. A lot has changed since you’ve been gone Sav.”

  What the hell did he mean?

  “I’ve been gone three months and I talk to you almost daily. Why didn’t you say anything to me? I may be pregnant, Lucas, but I’m certainly not made of glass. I’m not going to shatter at the first rumbles of bad news.”

  “I know, I know. I will explain everything. Can we just enjoy you being home first?”