The Air He Breathes

by Brittainy C. Cherry

  “Is my mom your weirdo?”

  He smiled wide.

  She is.

  His fingers wrapped around his mug, and he stared into the dark coffee. “Richard was an awful person, Elizabeth, and he did some terrible things to Hannah. When they came into my office that day, I watched him put his hands on her in the worst way. I sent him out of my office, where he left her crying. I cancelled all of my appointments that day and allowed her to just sit in my office for as long as she needed. I understand you thinking that this thing between her and me is fake. I know all about her history with men, her history of hurt, and I want you to know that I love her. I love her so much and will spend the rest of my days protecting her from any more hurt.”

  The mug shook in my hands. “He hurt her? He hurt her, and I said those terrible things to her last night…”

  “You didn’t know.”

  “That doesn’t matter, though. I should’ve never said those things. If I were her, I wouldn’t forgive me.”

  “She already forgave you.”

  “I almost forgot that both of you are early birds.” Mama yawned, walking into the kitchen. She raised an eyebrow my way. “What’s wrong?” I stood up and rushed over to her, wrapping her in my arms. “Liz, what are you doing?”

  “Congratulating you on your engagement.”

  Her face lit up. “You’ll come to the wedding?”

  “Of course.”

  She hugged me back tighter. “I’m so glad, because the wedding is in three weeks for the New Year.”

  “Three weeks?!” I said, my voice rising. I paused, feeling the nerves in my gut. Mama didn’t need my opinion right now; she needed my support. “Three weeks! Wonderful!”

  Mama and Mike left a few hours later, after a game of Zombieland with Emma, complete with their own ketchup scars. Tristan, Emma, Zeus, and I sat on the couch for a while before Tristan pushed himself up on his elbows and looked my way. “Want to go shopping for my place?”

  We still hadn’t finished adding the small touches to his house—the things he claimed he didn’t give a crap about, like throw pillows, paintings, and all the small decorative things I loved. “Yes!” I chimed, always looking for a reason to go shopping.

  “Those are ugly, Tick!” Emma said, wrinkling her nose at Tristan’s choice of purple and mustard yellow throw pillows for his couch.

  “What?! These are great!” he argued.

  “They look like poop.” Emma laughed.

  I had to agree with her. “It’s almost as if you thought, ‘Ooh, let’s make my house completely hideous after Lizzie and Emma worked so hard to make it amazing.’”

  “Yeah.” Emma nodded. “It’s like you thought that.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You should just really leave this to the experts like Mama and me.”

  He laughed. “Tough crowd.” Emma stood on the back of the shopping cart and Tristan took her shooting around the corner, bumping straight into someone. “Sorry!” Tristan apologized quickly before looking up.

  “Uncle Tanner!” Emma squeaked, jumping off the cart running over to Tanner to wrap him in a hug.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Tanner said, giving her a squeeze before putting her down.

  “What happened to your face?!” Emma asked.

  Tanner looked my way. I stared at his bruises from the night before. Such a big part of me wanted to comfort him, but another part wanted to slap him across the face for what he’d said to Tristan about his family.

  “Tristan, do you think you could take Emma over to the paintings and have her pick out some artwork for you?” I asked.

  Tristan gently placed a hand on my forearm. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  I nodded. They walked off, but not before Tristan apologized to Tanner. Tanner didn’t utter a word to him, but the moment Emma and Tristan left, it seemed he had a ton of comments to spit my way.

  “Are you serious, Liz? Last night he attacks your friend and now you’re running around the store with him as if you are some happy family? And you sent him off alone with your daughter?! What would Steven—”

  “Did you say it was his fault his family is dead?”

  Tanner narrowed his eyes. “What?”

  “Tristan told me.”

  “Liz, look at my face.” He stepped in closer to me. My throat tightened as I stared at his black and blue eye. He pulled up his shirt to reveal his left side, which was badly bruised. “Look at my ribs. The man you just sent off with your daughter did this. He fucking attacked me like a beast, and you’re sitting here asking me what I said to him? I was drunk; I might have said some stupid things, but he snapped out of nowhere. I saw it in his eyes, Liz. He’s completely mad.”

  “You’re a liar.” He’s lying. He’s lying. Tristan is good. He’s so good. “You should’ve never said anything about his family. Never.” The heels of my feet spun me away from Tanner, and I yipped when I felt his tight grip on my forearm. He forced me to face him once more.

  “Listen, I get it. You’re mad at me. Fine. Be mad. Fucking hate my guts. But I know there’s something off about that guy. I know there’s something wrong with him and I’m not going to stop until I find out what it is, because I care too much about you and Emma to let anything happen to you both. Yeah, okay, I said some shit I shouldn’t have said, but did I deserve this? It will only be a matter of time before you say something wrong and he snaps on you.”

  “Tanner,” I said, my voice low. “You’re hurting me.”

  He dropped his tight hold from my arm, leaving red marks on my skin where his fingers had been. “Sorry.”

  When I reached the artwork section of the store, I found Tristan and Emma arguing over what to buy; of course, Emma was right. Tristan smiled my way and stepped toward me. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

  I placed my hand against his cheek and stared into his eyes. His gaze was soft and gentle, reminding me of all the good things in the world. While Tanner saw hell in Tristan’s stare, I only saw heaven.

  It had been three weeks since my birthday, and slowly everything was going back to normal. That night we were driving to Mama’s town for her wedding that weekend, and before we could leave, Emma had somehow talked Tristan and me into getting her ice cream in twenty-degree weather.

  “I think mint ice cream is nasty!” Emma said as we walked back from the ice cream shop, Tristan holding her on his shoulders. She was eating a plain vanilla cone, dripping ice cream into his hair every now and then.

  As a few drops fell to his cheek, I leaned in and kissed them away, then gently kissed his lips.

  “Thanks for coming with us,” I said.

  “Mostly I just came for the mint,” he replied with a playful smirk. The smirk stayed on his lips until we walked closer to our houses. When his eyes met the steps of my porch, the playfulness left his eyes and he lowered Emma off his shoulders.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Tanner, who was sitting on my porch with papers in his grip.

  “We need to talk,” he said, standing up. His eyes shifted to Tristan before moving back to me. “Now.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” I said sternly. “Besides, we are leaving in a few minutes to go visit my mom.”

  “Is he going with you?” he asked, his voice low.

  “Don’t start, Tanner.”

  “We have to talk.”

  “Tanner, look, I get it. You don’t like that I’m with Tristan, but I am. And we’re happy. I just don’t see why you can’t be—”

  “Liz!” he shouted, cutting me off. “I get it, whatever. But I need to talk to you.” His eyes were glassed over and his jaw was tight. “Please.”

  I looked at Tristan, who was staring my way, waiting for me to decide my next move. It seemed as if Tanner truly had something to say, something that was eating at him. “Okay. Fine. Let’s talk.” He sighed with relief. I turned to Tristan. “I’ll see you in a few, okay?”

  He nodded and kissed my forehead before saying goodbye to me. Tanne
r followed Emma and me inside, and while Emma went to her room to play with some toys, we stood at the island in the kitchen. My hands gripped the edge of the counter.

  “What do you want to talk about, Tanner?”

  “Tristan.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “We have to.”

  Breaking away from his stare, I moved to the dishwasher and started to unload it, just to keep busy. “No, Tanner. I’m really sick of all of this. Aren’t you tired of all of this?”

  “Do you know what happened to his wife and kid? Do you know how they died?”

  “He doesn’t talk about it, and it doesn’t make him an awful person that he doesn’t talk about it. It makes him human.”

  “Liz, it was Steven.”

  “What was Steven?” I asked, tossing plates into the cabinets.

  “The accident with Tristan’s wife and kid. It was Steven. He was the car that drove them off the road.” My throat closed up, and I looked his way. His eyes locked with mine, and as I shook my head. He nodded. “I went digging for information on the guy, and I’ll be honest with you I was just looking for crap to make him out to be a monster. Faye came into my shop and begged me to stop my witch-hunt, because she was certain it would ruin the little friendship I still had left with you, but I had to know what the deal was with this guy. I didn’t find anything. It turns out he’s just a guy who lost his world.”

  “Tanner.”

  “But I did find these articles on the accident.” He held the papers out toward me, and I placed my hands over my chest. My heartbeats were erratic, skipping beats and then speeding up whenever it chose to. “When Steven’s car lost control, it slammed into a white Altima. The Altima had three passengers in it.”

  “Stop…” I whispered, my right hand cupping over my mouth, my body beginning to shake with horror.

  “Sixty-year-old Mary Cole, who walked away from the accident.”

  “Tanner, please. Don’t.”

  “Thirty-year-old Jamie Cole…”

  Tears fell, my insides twisting into knots as he continued speaking. “And eight-year-old Charlie Cole, who both lost their lives.”

  Acid began to rise from my stomach and I turned away from him, sobbing uncontrollably into my hands, unable to truly believe what he was telling me. Had Steven been the reason that Tristan lost his world? Had my Steven been the cause of Tristan’s heartbreak?

  “You can’t be here right now,” I managed to say. Tanner placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and I slung it off. “I can’t deal with this right now, Tanner. Go.”

  He sighed heavily. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, Liz. I swear. But, could you imagine if you both found out later on? Could you imagine if he didn’t know until you two were in too deep?”

  I turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you two can’t stay together after this. There’s no way.” With hesitation, he rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re going to tell him, right?” My lips parted, but no words came out. “Liz. You have to tell him. He has a right to know.”

  My hands brushed against my eyes. “I need you to go, Tanner. Please. Just go.”

  “All I’m saying is if you love him, if there’s any part of you that truly cares for this guy, then you’ll let him go. You’ll let him move on.”

  The last thing he said to me was he didn’t mean to hurt me.

  I had a really hard time believing him.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Elizabeth

  I didn’t know how to tell Tristan what Tanner had told me. We drove to Mama’s house, and he could tell Tanner had said something that bothered me, but he didn’t pressure me to talk about it. I tried to put on my best smiles for Mama and Mike the night of their wedding reception; I tried my best to be happy for them, but inside my heart was so confused.

  Emma dragged Tristan out to the dance floor. I couldn’t help but smile when I heard a slow song come on and watched Emma step onto his feet. Mama came over to me in her beautiful ivory dress and sat beside me.

  “You haven’t said one word to me all night,” she said. Her smile was the sad kind.

  “I came, didn’t I? Isn’t that good enough?” Such a big part of me felt somewhat betrayed by her sudden rush to the chapel. She’d always had a way of rushing all of her relationships, but she hadn’t been crazy enough to walk down the aisle with a man she hardly knew. I turned toward her. “What are you doing, Mama? Just be honest with me…were you having money issues again? You could’ve asked me for help.”

  Her face reddened with embarrassment, maybe anger. “Stop it, Liz. I cannot believe you would say that to me, on today of all days.”

  “It’s just…this is all so sudden.”

  “I know.”

  “And I know the man has a lot of money. Look at this wedding.”

  “The money has nothing to do with it,” she disagreed. I cocked an eyebrow. “Really, it doesn’t.”

  “Then what is it? Give me a reason you would rush into this crazy situation if it isn’t for the money. What are you getting out of this?”

  “Love,” she whispered, her lips curving up. “I’m getting love.”

  For some strange reason, those words stung me. My heart was pained as she confessed to the idea of loving another man who wasn’t Dad. “How could you?” I said, my eyes watering over. “How could you just throw the letters away like that?”

  “What?”

  “Dad’s letters. I found them in the garbage bin before Emma and I moved away. How could you?”

  She sighed heavily, folding her hands together. “Liz, I didn’t just throw them away. I read each and every one of those letters every evening for sixteen years straight. Each night. Hundreds of letters. And then one day I woke up and realized that the security blanket I was wearing was really nothing but a crutch keeping me crippled from living my own life. Your father was a wonderful man. He taught me how to love fully. He taught me how to give into passion. And then I forgot. I forgot everything he taught me the day he left. I lost myself. I had to step away from the crutch of those letters in order to heal. You are so much stronger than me.”

  “I still feel weak. Almost every day, I feel weak.”

  She took my face in her hands and placed her forehead to mine. “That’s the thing, though. You’re feeling. I was numb. I didn’t feel anything. But you’re feeling. One must know what it feels like to be weak in order to really find their own strength.”

  “Mike…he really makes you happy?” I asked.

  Her face glowed.

  She really did love him.

  I hadn’t known we were truly allowed to love again.

  “Tristan,” she said. “He makes you happy?”

  I nodded slowly.

  “And that scares you?”

  I nodded once more.

  She grinned. “Ah, then that means you’re doing it right.”

  “Doing what right?”

  “Falling in love.”

  “It’s too soon…” I said, my voice shaky.

  “Says who?”

  “I don’t know. Society? What’s the amount of time you’re supposed to have before starting to fall in love again?”

  “People say a lot of things and give you all kinds of unwanted advice and tips on how to mourn. They tell you not to date for years, to let time pass, but that’s the thing with love—time doesn’t exist with it. The only thing love counts is the heartbeats. If you love him, don’t get in your own way. Just allow yourself to feel again.”

  “There’s something that I have to tell him. Something terrible, and I think I’ll lose him.”

  She frowned. “Whatever it is, he’ll understand if he cares for you the way you care for him.”

  “Mama.” Tears fell from my eyes, and I stared into the eyes that mirrored mine. “I thought I lost you forever.”

  “I’m sorry I left, baby.”

  I pulled her into a hug. “It doesn’t matter. You came back.”
>
  Tristan drove us home from the wedding after I had one too many glasses of wine, and Emma passed out in her car seat as soon as we left. We didn’t speak to one another, but so much was said when my hand, which had been alone for so long, tangled with Tristan’s fingers.

  My eyes couldn’t move away from staring at our touch. I lifted our hold up and lightly placed my lips against his hand. How could I tell him about Steven and the accident?

  How do I begin to say goodbye?

  He glanced over to me and gave me his half smile. “You’re drunk?”

  “A little.”

  “You’re happy?” he asked.

  “A lot.”

  “Thank you for inviting me. I think my feet are a bit bruised from Emma stepping on my feet so much, but I loved it.”

  “She’s crazy about you,” I said, staring at his lips.

  His eyes studied the darkened road as he replied, “I adore her.”

  Oh my heart. It stopped. Or sped up. Maybe both all at once.

  I kissed his hand once more. My fingers traced every line that wound across his palm.

  When we pulled up in front of my house, Tristan lifted Emma from her car seat and carried her to her bedroom. As he laid her down, I stood in the doorway watching. He took off her shoes and placed them at the foot of her bed.

  “I should probably head home,” he said, walking toward me.

  “Yeah, probably.”

  He smiled. “Thanks again for tonight. It was great.” He placed a small kiss on my forehead and stepped past me to leave. “Goodnight, Lizzie.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t go. Stay tonight.”

  “What?”

  “Stay with me.”

  He lowered his eyebrows. “You’re drunk.”

  “A little.”

  “But you want me to stay?”

  “A lot.”

  His fingers wrapped around my lower back, and he pulled me closer to his body. “If I stayed, I would want to hold you until the morning, and I know that scares you.”