Breathless (Yoga in the City Book 1)

by Leigh LaValle

  My heart dropped. I would shine a light for him, if I could.

  In another photo, he had his arm around a friend, their heads tipped toward each other. Was this Cody?

  “What are you doing?” Jake growled from the top of the stairs.

  I dropped the photos, guilty. “I—I just…” I froze.

  He descended the staircase, his face unreadable. Was he angry with me? I wanted to say I was sorry, but I wasn’t. I’d wanted to see the photos. I wanted to know about his life.

  He stopped beside me and stared down at the photo on top. His jaw hardened. He picked it up, turned, and leaned back against the sliding glass door. He scrubbed a hand over his face but didn’t say anything.

  I didn’t say anything, either, just waited for him to speak.

  “Cody Hartwerth O’Donnell.” His voice was tight. “C. Dawg.”

  His tone was raw and scraped at my heart. “You both look so happy.”

  “I don’t know that we were happy. I mean, war is shit. But we were idiots. We didn’t know any better.” His chest rose and fell with a deep breath.

  “We’re all idiots when we’re young.”

  He was rumpled from sleep. I slid up beside him, pressed my body alongside his, wanting to take some of the weight. Wanting to help him hold the heavy rock of pain.

  “Our Humvee was blown up.” He swallowed. “IED.”

  “God. I’m sorry.” His words rang in my ears. I dropped my head onto his shoulder.

  “I lost three friends. I lost…”

  I didn’t know what to say. My throat was tight with pain.

  He cleared his throat. “Cody’s mom called to confirm dinner.”

  “Sunday?” It hurt to talk.

  “Yeah. They’re going to watch the Av’s in the playoffs. She said you’re welcome to join.”

  “I’m planning on it.”

  “You probably don’t like hockey.”

  I wanted to ask about the photos. Who cared about hockey right now? “I like hockey enough. I’d love to go, if you still want me to.”

  He dropped his head. I took a chance and turned toward him, slinging my arms around his bare hips, and kissed the scar above his lip, where it was soft. We stood like that, our heads close together, a picture of his dead friend in his hands.

  “Cody played hockey.”

  “Yeah?” I stepped into him, closer, so the front of our bodies pressed together. His skin was hot from sleeping. He dropped his forehead against mine.

  “Center position. He dominated the ice. He just got it, like he knew what would happen next.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed and held him. His chest was so broad, my hands didn’t touch.

  “The NHL had him on their radar. He was always a better athlete than me. Got better grades too.” His body tensed. “It wasn’t supposed to be him.”

  I was not going to cry.

  “You’re coming with me Sunday,” he said into my skin. “And wearing something sexy.”

  “I think that could be arranged.” I pressed my open hand over his heart. Felt it beating. “I’m sorry if I was snooping.”

  “It’s about time I showed these pictures to somebody.” He lifted his head, caught my gaze. “You want to see them?”

  “Yes.”

  He grabbed the stack of pictures and shuffled over to his couch, then pulled me on his lap. “I’m glad I met you, Hannah.”

  I wrapped my arms around him again and squeezed hard. I just couldn’t let go. If we had a kid, a boy, would Jake want to name him Cody? “I’m glad I met you too.”

  He rubbed the back of my arm absentmindedly. “Life is funny sometimes. I can’t figure it out.”

  “Wow, really? Because everyone else totally has it figured out.”

  His exhale ruffled my hair.

  “Sometimes I think I’m going to be okay.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed around the emotion rising up in me. “You’re going to be okay, Jake.”

  He sighed again. “Well, this is my platoon. The Forty-seventh Infantry Division of the Colorado National Guard.”

  I had to let go of him so he could shuffle through the stack of photos. “We were a bunch of rowdy, profane motherfuckers. The Wolverines.” I jumped. He’d called out the name like a battle cry.

  He pulled out a photo, one of the happier ones, and stilled. He dropped his head and nuzzled my ear. “If I forgive your snooping and tell you my deep, dark secrets, what will I get in return?”

  “Hmmm.” I stretched out like a cat on his lap. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

  “I’m sure you can too.”

  Chapter 34

  Jake

  The clouds poured down over the mountains. They gathered in the crevasses and flowed like water. I sipped my coffee and watched. Somewhere, a meadowlark was singing. Everything around me was wild. Free. Unfettered. I was in my element.

  But I didn’t feel at home.

  It was Sunday morning, and I felt alone. Even here on Longs Peak, Hannah was tugging at me. I was bound to her. I didn’t know how it had happened. I hadn’t even recognized it happening. But there, in the solitude of the deep mountains, I felt it.

  I could love her.

  Maybe I already did.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face, not knowing what the fuck to do with that thought.

  I had no place in my life for love. No time. Nothing to give. And I sure as hell wasn’t entitled to it.

  Tonight, I would see the O’Donnells. In a few weeks, I would honor Cody’s memory at the VFW. And then, I would leave. It would be better that way. For everyone.

  I was too broken inside for Hannah. And I didn’t deserve to be fixed.

  I didn’t deserve to be loved.

  Chapter 35

  Hannah

  It was snowing cotton. Fluffy white puffs drifted everywhere, covering the road and lawns and parked cars. Huge cottonwood trees towered over us, casting shade on the quiet street.

  “This is the town where you grew up?” I asked Jake. We were in his truck, on the way to the O’Donnells’ for dinner.

  “Yup. My dad and I lived in a duplex a few miles away. We shared the house with an old man, Mr. Harding. He always complained that my music was too loud, but otherwise he was okay.”

  “Three men in a duplex? No wonder you’re so lost with the ladies.” I bumped his shoulder. Really, the guy was too good with the ladies. “Does your dad still live here?”

  “He’s up the canyon now in a cabin, but, yeah, he still lives close.”

  “You see him much?” I prodded.

  “Not really. He’s a bit of a hermit. I catch up with him a few times a year.” Jake glanced over at me. “What about your parents?”

  It was weird that we’d never talked about this stuff, considering what else we’d shared. But it was a subject I tended to avoid.

  “Gone,” I said. “My dad was never around, and my mom died of cancer when I was twenty.” He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “No siblings. No grandparents or doting aunts. Just me. And you don’t have to say you’re sorry.”

  He looked at me again, an unreadable expression on his face. But he didn’t say anything more. A few minutes later, we pulled up before a brick ranch house with a sprawling oak tree in the front yard. It didn’t get much more American than this, down to the red Ford truck in the driveway and the American flag hanging proudly by the front door.

  The O’Donnells.

  My heart inched its way up my throat. I really wanted this to go well for Jake. And for them.

  Jake slid off his aviator sunglasses and put them on the dash. He got out slowly, his eyes scanning the house, then he came around and opened my door for me.

  “It looks exactly the same,” he said quietly. I reached in the back and grabbed the twelve-pack of beer and flowers he’d bought earlier.

  He took the beer and I held the flowers, glad to have something to do with my hands. I was totally and completely out of my element. I was terrible at talking
to people in normal circumstances, much less after a tragedy. No matter how many years had passed, it was obvious Jake and the O’Donnells had some healing to do together. I would do my best to ensure the night went well, for all their sakes.

  An old wooden swing hung from the tree by the front door, and a rusted trampoline sat in the side yard. Flowers bloomed everywhere, and not in any discernable order.

  When I had kids, I wanted them to have a house like this. Friendly, lived-in, loved. With a swing set to grow out of, a garden to plant, and neighbors to play with. And Jake. I wanted him there too.

  We stopped at the front door. Jake took a deep breath. “Ready?” he asked me, his finger hovering over the doorbell.

  I wanted to tell him that he was ready, that he was brave and beautiful and kind. But I never got a chance to answer. The door flung open, and people were shouting and grabbing us and dogs were barking and I nearly fell off the stoop.

  “Jake! Come in! And Hannah! Welcome! Welcome!”

  “Good to see you, son!”

  “Hey, man.”

  “Hannah! I’m so glad you could make it!”

  I was pulled inside by a woman my age and had no choice but to submit to the chaos. Someone took the flowers out of my hand. Someone else took my coat. A dog sniffed my crotch and was laughingly pulled away. Another dog pawed at my hip. A man hugged me, tight and real, and I didn’t push away, because it was nice.

  And Jake was laughing.

  He was laughing, and I turned to find him. Mrs. O’Donnell was laughing, and suddenly she was crying, and the woman my age—maybe her daughter—gave her a side hug while still laughing.

  And Jake finally caught his breath enough to introduce me to everyone. Mr. and Mrs. O’Donnell, of course, and their two sons and daughter who all still lived in the area and came to see Jake. One of the sons had brought a wife and baby. Their daughter brought her boyfriend, but she looked at Jake with longing in her eyes. She obviously had a crush on Jake, I mean, how could she not?

  We all went to the back of the house, where a huge, vaulted family room had been added on to the otherwise small ranch house.

  “I told you Jake’s healed so well. Not even a limp.” Mrs. O’Donnell sounded so proud.

  Jake colored slightly and glanced away. Almost like he was guilty for not being hurt worse. Everyone was looking at him, assessing him.

  “You look great, son. Strong.” Mr. O’Donnell, Tim, clapped him on the shoulder.

  “I heard you’ve been climbing Everest or something,” one of the brothers said. “That’s pretty epic. You’re lucky.”

  And there it was…

  Jake didn’t reply. He flicked a glance in my direction. There was panic in his eyes. And I totally understood it. I walked over to him and put my arm around him, playing the role of the doting girlfriend.

  “He’s crazy about his health,” I said. “He works out harder than anyone I’ve ever known. We met through my yoga studio.”

  “How nice, dear,” Mrs. O’Donnell replied. She gave me a meaningful look. I wasn’t sure what she was trying to say.

  “Yoga, Jake?” one of the brother’s teased. “Really?”

  “Hot chicks, dude.” Jake kissed me on the cheek. The moment had passed.

  Behind us, the TV was on and the pregame program was playing on silent. By some unspoken command, people started to wander off. Everyone knew what to do; some stayed to talk to Jake, and others went to help with cooking or set the table. I offered to help in the kitchen, but Mrs. O’Donnell told me to just relax and enjoy my evening with Jake. Again, the eyes.

  So, I sat down beside him. The talk moved on to hockey and the weather and work. All safe topics. I didn’t have too much to add, but Jake grabbed my hand and squeezed my knee, and I was there for him. Then dinner was announced, and we all went into the dining room. An extra card table had been set up at one end of the regular table to make room for everyone. It was cramped and chaotic and totally wonderful.

  A Sunday roast, I decided, would be another thing Jake and I would do. As a family.

  “Here’s to the Avs. May they win and win big,” Mr. O’Donnell toasted, his glass raised.

  “To the Avs,” we all toasted.

  Mr. O’Donnell looked at Jake, then at his wife, then put his glass down. It seemed he wanted to say more, to commemorate the moment somehow, but he stopped. Everything was kept light, happy. Easy.

  We all dug in. The baby fussed, and the brothers argued about the Avs defense strategies and Mrs. O’Donnell chatted with her daughter about her new job. Jake put his left hand on my knee under the table and was quiet. Mrs. O’Donnell filled his plate three times before she let him sit back and rest.

  When we were done, Cody’s sister, Brenda, stood up and collected the dirty plates. “I’m making your favorite cake for dessert, Jake. Red velvet.”

  “Oh, wow, thanks. That really is my favorite.”

  “I know,” she smirked.

  “I’ll help.” I stood up too, because suddenly it was important to me that Brenda didn’t make this cake. Or at least not alone. I could see her laying the groundwork to be Jake’s next girlfriend, and I was going to put a stop to that right quick.

  “Oh, I don’t need help. It’s almost done,” Brenda said.

  “Go on into the kitchen, you girls. We can chat out here.” Mrs. O’Donnell took charge, and Brenda had no choice but to include me. I gathered an armload of plates and brought them to the kitchen sink.

  “So, you and Jake, huh?” Brenda asked as we walked into the warm kitchen.

  “Yup, me and Jake.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “Not too long. About three months.”

  “Hmm.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that Hmm. It was judgmental and loaded with meaning. I stacked the dishes and turned to face her. “Why? What’s up?” Call a spade a spade…

  “Oh, nothing, just curious. I’ve never met one of Jake’s girlfriends, though he dates around, of course.”

  Two could play this game. I tilted my head. “I didn’t think you guys had seen each other in a while?”

  She shrugged. “You know what I mean.”

  “I know about his history, if that’s what you mean. I know he doesn’t stay in relationships a long time.”

  “Okay, good, then.” She smiled, as if she was so relieved I wouldn’t be hurt. Yup, she was definitely crushing on Jake. Hard.

  What about your boyfriend in the next room, I wanted to ask.

  “What can I do to help with the cake?” I asked instead.

  Brenda walked to the other side of the kitchen, and I followed. The cake was still in its pan, cooling on a rack. She grabbed a large platter from a cabinet. “You just put this on top of the cake pan and flip it all over, right?” she asked me, as if I had any idea.

  “Sounds good to me, but I’m no baker.”

  Brenda placed the platter on top of the cake, flipped it over, and lifted the pan. Nothing happened.

  “Hmm.”

  “Maybe you need a knife to loosen the edges?” I suggested.

  “I guess. Usually my mom does this part.”

  She slipped a knife around the edges of the cake and tried to flip it over on the plate again. It worked this time. Or semi worked. Half the cake plopped out. The other half stayed glued to the bottom of the pan.

  “Crackers,” she muttered under her breath.

  “We can just glue it together with frosting,” I said. “That’s what frosting is for, to hide the mistakes, right?”

  “That might work.” She looked at me hopefully. Then she tried to peel the rest of the cake off the bottom of the pan and put it all back together like puzzle pieces.

  Things were not looking good for this cake.

  “Where’s the frosting?” I asked.

  “In the fridge. I made it earlier, and it’s supposed to cool.”

  I pulled out the frosting, which was a hard lump. I tilted the bowl so she could see the unappetiz
ing mess. “I think it’s cooled a little too much.”

  She frowned. “Maybe put it in the microwave?”

  I tried to stir the frosting and didn’t get too far, so I put it in the microwave for five seconds.

  Brenda’s face was flushed and damp.

  “Jake’s supposed to go to the Alaska Range in a few weeks,” I said, taking pity on her. “And that will be the end of it for us.”

  “Wow, that must be weird, to have a boyfriend with an expiration date.”

  “It’s totally weird, but it’s good for me. I can be crazy about dating. Planning my wedding on the second date, that kind of stuff.” Making menus for Sunday dinners.

  She laughed. “I think most girls do that.”

  “Once, I put a chunk of money down on a wedding gown after a fourth date.”

  “Noooo.”

  “Yup. Somehow he found out, I can’t remember how, but there were no more dates after that, I assure you.”

  She giggled. Then she sobered up. “You know why Jake’s here tonight, right?”

  “Yeah, he told me all about Cody. I’m really sorry. He sounds like a great guy.”

  “He was.” She looked down at her hands. “So, Jake talks about him? About what happened?”

  “A little. I think he’s trying to figure it out and move on. He’s still pretty messed up about it all.”

  “Yeah, I’m sad for him too. He’s really great. And he changed a lot after the war. He used to be so funny and outgoing. God, he was so handsome and nice at the same time. Girls were just falling over him, and he never took advantage of it. He was a real gentleman. Everyone loved him. I mean, they still do, but he’s got this weight on him, this seriousness. It’s so messed up. Like he came back, but only part of him did.”

  I blinked back tears that I didn’t even realize were there.

  “He’s really brave and kind, and he’ll figure it out.” I nodded, determined.

  “I hope so. You seem good for him.”