You Are My Air: Breathless Book 1

by Samantha Wolfe

  "Yeah," I answered her, "let's go."

  We took off again, jumping into the flow of runners, and I was pleased that I could run without any pain. We quickly got back into the groove, and before we knew it, we were down to the last mile. It was probably the longest mile I'd ever traveled in my life, and I swear the finish-line kept getting further away. My legs were starting to feel like they weren't mine anymore as I forced myself to keep going. When we finally crossed the finish-line, the profound feeling of relief that came over me was only overshadowed by my pride in what I had just accomplished. My burning palms were long forgotten, but I couldn't forget about those amazing blue eyes, and the gorgeous man attached to them.

  Maggie and I got our medals, and as we were in line for the free bagels and bananas that were being handed out, I kept finding myself looking for him. I knew it was unlikely I'd find him in a throng like this, but I couldn't help myself. I don't think I'd ever felt such an instant attraction to a man before in my life.

  "I haven't seen him anywhere either," Maggie said suddenly, and I jerked my eyes back to hers in embarrassment. She was smiling knowingly at me.

  "I don't know what you're talking about." I denied what I was doing immediately, even though I knew Maggie wouldn't believe me.

  "Please," she said incredulously. "I saw the way that hot guy looked at you. And I saw the way you looked at him."

  "You should have smelled him," I breathed out with a deep sigh, giving up on denial immediately. It was pointless since Maggie was on to me anyway.

  "Why couldn't my blind date have looked like that?" Maggie asked with a huge grin.

  "Right?" I asked as we got our snacks. We started slowly making our way to Maggie's car on tired rubbery legs. I couldn't wait to get home to take a nap and a shower, but we had one stop first, one that we had been planning as our reward for months. Ice cream.

  **********

  We walked into the ice cream shop still wearing our medals. We got some odd looks, but we didn't care. These medals had been hard won, and we weren't taking them off until we got home. Maggie ordered a tin roof sundae, and I got myself a banana split. I led us to a table by the window, and we sat down. I took my first bite and couldn't remember ice cream ever tasting this good. It was the perfect reward, and since we had just burned through over a thousand calories, guilt free. Both of us were so hungry that we had eaten almost all of our sundaes before Maggie started speaking.

  "Has Lucas finally stopped calling you?" Maggie asked with a serious expression.

  I sighed, not really wanting to talk about my ex right now. "I haven't heard from him in a few weeks."

  "Do you think he's finally let it go?" she asked quietly.

  "I hope so," I said succinctly, desperate to end this conversation. Lucas and I dated for about six months. I really liked him and he was a good guy, but the longer we were together the more I had begun to realize that I wasn't ever going to feel anything more than that, no matter how much I tried to delude myself. He deserved better than that and so did I, so I ended things and broke his heart in the process. He didn't cope well at all.

  The first few weeks he called and texted me daily, begging me to give us another chance. He just couldn't accept that I didn't feel the same way about him that he felt about me. The whole situation made me feel like the world's biggest heartless bitch. Especially when I realized that I hadn't ever really been in love with anyone before. It made me wonder if I wasn't capable of feeling that way about a man, even though it was something I desperately longed for. It was a depressing revelation.

  "It's too bad things didn't work out with him," Maggie stated as she watched me closely, a wistful look on her face. "He's a really great guy."

  "What was I supposed to do?" I asked in irritation. "Stay with him because he's a 'good guy' even though I don't love him? How would that have been fair to him or me?"

  "I know, Natalie," Maggie admitted. "I just hoped that this time around you'd found the right guy for you. You guys were really good together."

  "You think I don't know that?" I asked in exasperation. "I wanted that too, but it just didn't work out that way." I let out a harsh sigh. "Can we just drop this subject? You're ruining my post run high and my reward."

  "I'm sorry, Nat," she said apologetically. "I just want you to be happy."

  "I just need to learn to be happy being alone," I stated matter-of-factly, but feeling dubious about my statement. It was easier said than done when every night the loneliness would come for me and fill up my mind, making me feel sorry for myself and doubting my decision to leave Lucas. Part of me wondered if I could have accepted the lack of love I felt for him and learned to find it enough, just so I didn't have to be alone. These thoughts were always followed by guilt over my own selfishness and then realizing I had probably made the right decision. It was a never-ending cycle of thoughts that had kept me awake many nights.

  Maggie thankfully decided to change the subject, and we spent the rest of the time it took to finish our ice cream talking about the race and speculating about the blue-eyed guy's skills in the bedroom. It was a harmless diversion that I welcomed, especially since I'd never see the guy again.

  **********

  I was dead tired by the time I shuffled into my apartment on leaden feet. George greeted me loudly with his usual body slam against my legs. They were so tired and sore that he almost knocked me over. I somehow managed to stay on my feet and stumble to my bedroom with George following in my wake.

  Instead of showering, I stripped off my nasty running clothes and crawled into my bed. George curled up on top of the blankets next to my hip, and I basically passed out for almost two hours. By the time I woke up, my stomach was screaming for food again, and I decided to take myself out to lunch after my shower. I was really craving some pasta for a carb overload.

  I forced my sore aching body out of the bed, realizing that Maggie and I had forgotten to stretch after the race, and I was going to pay for it for a while. Hopefully, a hot shower would ease some of the stiffness and make me feel better. I spent so long under the warm spray of water that my fingers were pruned by the time I stepped out of the shower, but my stiff muscles felt much better.

  I dried my hair and put on a little makeup. I dressed in jeans and a comfortable over-sized tan sweater, then put on my favorite brown boots. I had just slipped on my jacket when my phone began ringing. I hurried over to the dining table to see that it was my mother calling. I sighed with resignation, wondering what drama had "wrecked" her life today. If I wasn't such a good daughter, I would have let it go to voice mail.

  "Hi, Mom." I answered in as happy a voice as I could muster, bracing myself for another emotional roller coaster.

  "Oh my God, Natalie," she began in a tense voice that filled me with sudden dread. "It's your brother. He wrecked his motorcycle." The dread turned to stark terror.

  "Is Ford...?" I babbled out. "Is he...is he...?"

  "He's alive, baby," she reassured me. "But I don't know how bad he's hurt yet. I'm on my way to the hospital right now. Your father is on his way too."

  "I'll leave right now and meet you there," I told her immediately, already grabbing my keys and purse and hurrying toward the door. She told me she would meet me there, then we ended the call. I rushed to the elevator and hit the down button repeatedly, as if doing that would make the elevator arrive any quicker. When I finally made it to the parking garage, I was grateful I hadn't worn heels as I sprinted to my red Volkswagen Passat. I jumped into the car, threw my bag onto the passenger seat, and started the car, slipping on my seatbelt as I backed out of my parking spot.

  I sped all the way to the hospital, grateful I didn't get pulled over or get into an accident myself. Wouldn't that have been ironic? I found a reasonably close parking spot, and flew out of my car to the hospital's emergency-room entrance. I was out of breath, by the time I hurried through the automatic doors and over to the reception desk.

  "Can I help you?" a polite older woman asked
me.

  "Yeah," I panted out. "I'm here for Ford Spencer. He was in a motorcycle accident. I'm his sister."

  She nodded and looked at the computer monitor in front of her, her eyes scanning across the screen. "Yes, he's here. Let me get someone to escort you back to him."

  "Thank you." I sighed and watched her get on the phone. A few moments later, a young woman in scrubs came out of the ER and walked over to me. She was probably just a little younger than me, with a cute blond bob.

  "Hi," she said as she approached me. "I'm Jamie, your brother's nurse. I'll take you back to him."

  I followed close on her heels back through the double doors she had come out of. "Is he okay?" I asked in a panicked voice, my mind making up horrible worse case scenarios of massive head wounds and skin grafts.

  "He's doing well right now," she reassured me as she led me through the busy ER. "His left foot is broken, and he has some road rash, but he'll be okay."

  I let out a deep breath of sweet relief. My big brother was going to be okay. He was my only family member that I had an almost healthy relationship with, and I don't know what I would have done if he had died. Jamie led me to the other end of the sizable ER, and stopped in front of a large glass door with a curtain inside blocking the view into the room. She knocked once and slid the glass door to the side to let me in as I heard my brother's deep voice say, "Come in."

  I pushed the curtain aside to see Ford lying on a hospital bed with the head of it propped halfway up. His dark-blue eyes lit up when he saw me, the tan skin around his eyes crinkling as a huge grin spread across his handsome face. His chin length blond hair had come loose from where he usually kept it tied out of his face, and pieces had fallen down around his eyes. It gave him an almost boyish appearance that made him look a lot younger than his thirty-two years.

  "Hey, Natie," he greeted me in his deep booming voice. He called me by the nickname he'd been using since we were little, and he couldn't pronounce my name right. I couldn't help smiling back. He looked ridiculous in his hideous blue hospital gown, especially considering the full sleeve tattoos covering both his muscular arms, and his scruffy beard and mustache. He was usually such an imposing man and seeing him like this was hilarious. A wry smile twisted my lips.

  "You look ridiculous," I blurted out as I stepped closer to him, noticing that Ford had his left leg propped up on a pillow with an ice pack on his foot.

  "You don't think I look pretty?" he asked, and I noticed his voice was a little slurred.

  I glared at him with narrowed eyes. "Are you drunk?" If he had been riding that bike after drinking, I was going to kick his ass right here, right now.

  "Natie," he answered, looking offended. "You know me better than that. I'm hopped up on pain medicine." He pulled the ice pack off his foot. "Check this shit out." His left foot was swollen and looked like it hurt like hell. "See?" he asked as another huge smile lit up his face. "Pain meds, some fucking good ones too."

  "How badly is it broken?" I asked him as I grimaced in sympathy.

  "It's pretty bad, but they're going to fix it in surgery tomorrow morning," he answered with a slur that was more pronounced.

  "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

  "I got some road rash." He abruptly rolled to his side and lifted up his gown, uncharacteristically unconcerned with modesty. I got an up-close look at the multiple abrasions on his hip and backside. He was right. It must be good pain medicine to make him act like this. Thankfully, I didn't catch a glimpse of certain parts of his anatomy that I didn't ever want to see.

  "Ford," I admonished him with a scowl, "put your damn gown down."

  "Sorry, Natie," he said sheepishly as he covered himself back up.

  "It's okay," I told him, my voice cracking as tears threatened to fall. "I'm just glad you're alright."

  Ford reached out and pulled me down into a hug. "Me too, Natie," he agreed, his voice turning soft. He let me go, and I looked at his face again. He looked uncomfortable, and his eyes were a little glassy as he tried to tamp down his feelings. I was touched. Ford wasn't usually the kind to show much emotion. He tended to deflect anything serious with humor.

  "What happened?" I asked, giving him an out from his discomfort.

  He let out an exasperated sigh. "Some bitch looked right at me, then pulled out in front of me. I had to lay my bike down to keep from plowing into her."

  "You had your helmet on, right?" I asked with a raised brow.

  "And my leather jacket, thank God," he added with a nod. "Or my tattoos would have been ripped to shreds." Leave it to Ford to be more worried about his tattoos then his own head.

  "How's your bike?" I asked, knowing how much his Triumph motorcycle meant to him.

  "The side that hit the ground is all scraped to hell, but fixable I think," he said with relief. "Not that it matters. I won't be riding it for awhile," he added reluctantly as he looked down at his foot.

  "Good thing the riding season is almost over," I reassured him. "You'll be ready to go by next spring."

  "I'm just happy I can still work," he added. Ford was a tattoo artist and owned his own shop. If he had messed up his right hand, he would've been unable to tattoo anyone.

  Our easy comfortable conversation died as the glass door slid open and our mother entered in a flurry of emotions and drama. As always, her tall slender frame was perfectly dressed. She had a floral wrap dress on and her shoulder length reddish brown curls were expertly styled to frame her face. Her green eyes, that looked exactly like mine, were filled with fear and worry.

  "Oh my God, Ford!" Mom cried shrilly as she pushed me out of the way to get to her son. She grabbed both sides of his face and starting checking him over, missing the annoyed look on his face completely. "Are you okay? Where do you hurt? Has the doctor even seen you yet?" she babbled on. "You haven't been just sitting here in pain have you? If they haven't done anything for you, there'll be hell to pay."

  "Mom," he growled at her, his patience already wearing thin. "I'm fine. They gave me pain meds and I only have a broken foot."

  "Well, I hope to God that they do a CAT scan of your whole body because if they miss something..."

  "Mom." Ford interrupted her, sounding angry now. "I don't need a full body scan. I only have some road rash, and a messed up foot." Mom opened her mouth to continue when a deep male voice cut into her over-dramatic rant.

  "Victoria, stop." I turned to see my father in the doorway. John Spencer was just as imposing as Ford, but in an immaculate polished way with his sharp-fitting dark suit and precisely styled graying blond hair. It was sometimes startling how much Ford looked like Dad, especially since their appearance and lives were complete opposites. "Ford doesn't need you in his face right now," Dad continued as he strode further into the room.

  Ordinarily, I'd welcome anything that would stop Mom in one of her emotional outbursts, but not when it was Dad. The two of them were like oil and water, and whenever they were in the same room things usually devolved into chaos quickly. It was no wonder they had been divorced since I was eleven and Ford was sixteen. If it wasn't for us, I don't think either of them would have ever willingly seen each other again after they split up.

  "Hi, Daddy," I blurted out as Mom opened her mouth to lay into him with fire in her eyes. We did not need a screaming match in the emergency room.

  "Hi, Natie," Dad said, his face and voice softening as he gave me a brief hug.

  "Dad," Ford greeted him stiffly. Dad and Ford were a lot alike inside too. They were both stubborn and independent, and could hold grudges for a lifetime. Which was probably why their relationship was strained most of the time. Dad made it abundantly clear that he didn't approve of Ford's career choice or the way he lived his life, and Ford didn't give a shit and did whatever he wanted. It was the perfect recipe for their ongoing conflict, and I feared it would never find a resolution.

  "Ford." Dad acknowledged his son with a nod and a tightening of his eyes.

  "John," Mom interjected angrily, "
he's my son, and if he's hurt I'm not just going to stand around hoping he'll be okay."

  "That doesn't mean you have to smother him," Dad bit back with irritation as he turned to face her again, his blue eyes flashing with anger.

  "I'm his mother and I can treat him any way I like," she replied, her voice rising as she faced him with her hands on her hips.

  "He's not a child anymore, Victoria," Dad snarled back. "You need to quit treating him like one!"

  "If you think you can walk in here and tell me how to act around my own son, then..."

  "Get! Out!" Ford interrupted her angrily, just as I was about to step in to try to diffuse a situation that was just about to go nuclear. "My foot hurts, my ass hurts, and you're giving me a goddamn headache. I don't want either of you here anymore. So get out!" Dad looked pissed and Mom's face crumpled in pain, but Ford was undeterred. He glared back and forth between the two of them. His face was tight and angry as he waited for them to leave.

  "Ford," Mom pleaded as tears began to fall down her cheeks. Dad was already leaving, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he held his tongue.

  Ford closed his eyes in resignation. "Mom, please." His voice was more tempered this time. "Don't cry, you can come back later. I just need some space, okay?"

  Mom opened her mouth to speak and I interrupted her, guessing she was going to lay a guilt trip on my brother that he so didn't need right now. "Come on, Mom. Let's leave Ford so the nurse can get him some more medicine for the pain." I could tell his pain meds were wearing off by the tightness around his eyes, and he barely had his temper under control. He'd feel guilty later if he ended up laying into our mother right now.

  I turned her toward the door, my mention of getting a nurse for her son convincing her to let me lead her out of the room. Ford gave me a grateful look as I glanced at him before closing the curtain behind me. I took her out to the waiting room and got her to sit down, then told her I was getting the nurse for my brother. I wondered for a moment where Dad had disappeared to, and I wouldn't have been surprised if he had just left. When I made my way back to Ford, I saw Jamie, his nurse, coming out of his room with an empty syringe. Good, she already gave him his painkiller. I slipped back through the curtain to find a much calmer Ford then the one I had just left.