Breathe

by Amber Lacie

  by

  Amber Lacie

  Copyright © 2016 by Amber Lacie

  Gray Publishing Edition

  COPYRIGHT © 2016

  Cover Art: Krisma Design

  Copy and Line Editing: Kris Matury-Turner

  Proofreading: Gray Publishing Services

  Warning: This book contains explicit content including scenes of sexual nature and graphic violence. Intended for mature audiences. This is a stand-alone novel.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, or other status is entirely coincidental.

  eBooks are not transferrable. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever known, not known or hereafter invented, or stored in any storage or retrieval system, is forbidden and punishable by the fullest extent of the law without written permission of the author.

  Acknowledgements

  For my betas, your words of encouragement and insight are priceless. You have given me so much. Thank you for holding my hand along this journey.

  For my children, who often saw me lost in thought while writing, I love you more than you’ll ever know. I love you times infinity.

  For my husband, my best friend, my protector, I love you. You have given me a life I never imagined. Thank you for the laughter and the promise of laughter in the years to come. Thank you for loving all of my pieces, even the bent and twisted ones. You are my knight in shining armor. Thank you for loving me so fiercely.

  Table of Contents

  Breathe

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Other Books by Amber Lacie

  About Amber Lacie

  Breathe

  Sometimes, you hurt so bad you cannot cry. Your soul is ripped and bleeding. There is nothing left in you to even shed a tear. So, you close your eyes, allowing that piece of you to die. It never truly goes away, it never heals. It doesn’t wither over time. It is a constant ache tucked away in the back of your mind, reminding yourself that you once loved so hard that you forgot to breathe.

  What makes this bittersweet is the person who loves you after this, knows they won’t get that piece of you. They know they will have everything else but that piece, and yet, they love you anyway.

  Prologue

  The smell of worn leather surrounds me, as I wake from a dream. The golden shine from wildflowers dancing with the sun in the field is still glowing against my skin. Four wheelers, creeks, mud…it is like the dirt is still stuck under my fingernails. While stretching my fingers out in front of me, trying to hold on to the warmth of the sun, which is quickly fading, I realize I have fallen asleep in my chair again. It seems to be happening more often as of late. My lungs inflate as I take a deep breath, finding my way back to reality, leaving my dream behind me.

  Have you ever had one particular moment linger in the depths of your mind, only surfacing in the quiet as your thoughts randomly flitter through your mind? It pulls you under, taking you hostage as it plays out like a beautiful storybook. Every time this moment replays, it leaves you holding your breath with an ache so deep in your heart; most people don’t know it is even there.

  Mine was so many years ago, but it still stings when I let my mind wander, revisiting every detail. Now, I sit in front of our bedroom window, too weak to make it down the stairs. I can hear my son whispering on the phone with someone across the hall in my husband’s study. I can’t make out his words, but I know the whispers are about me. I’m dying. He is refusing to accept it, but I have come to terms with it. I have taken care of him for the past twenty-four years. I haven’t had enough time with him. There will never be enough time, but I am dying anyway.

  My husband will be back tomorrow night. This will be his last trip for a while. He is a brilliant lawyer and often travels, defending the world from wrong doings. He is my knight in shining armor. He rode in on a great white steed and stole a heart I no longer knew I had possession of. Do not let your mind wonder what kind of husband would leave their wife if she was dying. This was my choice. I told him to go. There was something I needed to do. Turning my head over my shoulder, my eyes flash towards the desk from my office. My son brought it in here a few months ago for me. At first I was angry, I didn’t need anyone’s help, but it seems he knew better than me.

  Stretching my legs, I softly pad across the carpet and pull out the black leather chair. I carefully make myself comfortable, before trying to capture my fleeting dream in words. My frail fingers open my laptop and slowly start clicking away at the keys. At first, I was just going to copy my journals into a book detailing the two great loves of my life, but it seems as if it is more of a story now. My life bleeds onto the pages. No details have been skipped. The good, the bad, the ugly, and even intimate details have been scored in ink, as my fingers fly along the letters.

  I still have moments when I lay my head down at night, when the world is quiet and falling asleep, where thoughts of him possess my mind. It is in those moments when I know for a fact that if not for my time with him, I would never know the true meaning of love. He gave me everything. Without him, I wouldn’t have the life I do now.

  If you ask me whether I would take a different path or not, I would tell you that I would stay the course. Perhaps, changing a bit here or there, but the outcome would be the same. I would still be happily married to my husband, and a wonderful mother to our son.

  A tear falls down my cheek, landing softly on my dark cherry desk. It is a gentle reminder of why I encouraged my husband to go on his business trip. He didn’t need to watch me fall apart all over again. He has already put me back together once and no one should ever have to do it twice. My fingers pause, as my eyes take in the words before me, everything is blurring together again. Sighing, I scroll back to page one. The black cursor is softly blinking on the screen. My dreams are feeling more real as the days pass by, almost as if they are my reality, and everything surrounding me while I’m awake is the dream. I need people to understand what this feels like now and what it felt like then. The only way to do it is to start from the beginning.

  Chapter 1

  The Beginning

  April 1991

  I run my fingers through my ponytail, twisting my dark blonde hair around my finger. Mr. Hancock is pacing the room in front of us, waving chalk around like it is a sword ready to correct our errors. History has never been of interest to me, but I need this class to graduate. Graduation. The thought alone brings hope. I sigh, knowing that all I have to do is wait a little over one more month, before I walk across a stage in front of at least two hundred people and then I’m done. Michael graduated last year and already has an apartment waiting for me. All I have to do is make it through gradu
ation and then I can blow this small town. Lafayette has never sounded so good.

  Someone clears their throat and I look up to see Mr. Hancock hovering in front of my desk. “Is there some place you’d rather be, Carsten? Perhaps you have a date with Mr. Bradshaw and you can’t wait to get ready for it. I bet you have a list of things to do, don’t you? Well, unfortunately for you, there’s still twenty minutes left in this class, which means I have twenty more minutes to try to explain to you the Battle of Tippecanoe and its importance to our state history. Now, I’ll ask you again, where did this take place?”

  Clicking my pen in irritation on my desk, I answer, “Lafayette, Indiana.”

  “Correct. It seems you are able to learn, despite drawing Mr. Bradshaw’s name in little hearts all over your notebook.”

  Soft laughter fills the room, while I wish there was somewhere I could hide. I would try to crawl under my desk, but I’m afraid that I would get stuck in the stupid wire basket under my chair. I hate these desks. The stupid chairs are attached to the desk. It is one giant tripping hazard. Mr. Hancock moves on to some other prey in the class and leaves me to finish my scribbling.

  It is not my fault that I can’t pay attention. None of this holds interest for me. Nothing has since my mom died last year. No one knows what happened exactly. One minute she was walking to the mailbox and then the next minute she was on the ground. The older lady across the street called the police when she noticed my mom shaking uncontrollably, but they were too late, just like everything else in my life.

  Nothing is ever on time or the way it should be. I should have been in college already, but we moved here too late for me to start school on time. I had to wait to start elementary school until the next year. My mom felt that I had missed too much already, so she held me back. Having an August birthday has made me the oldest student in my class. Anyone else my age has already graduated. I don’t know why, but the other Seniors tend to get on my nerves, except for Rebecca, Noelle, and Holden. Thankfully, the four of us have stuck together throughout the years, and I am proud to call them friends, even if the odds of seeing each other after graduation are slim.

  Michael is not a fan of my friends. I think it is because they are younger. He is always making comments asking why I spend so much time with them. He wants me to focus on us. I get it, I do. It is just that he is there and I am here. How can I focus on us when he is so far away? Maybe he is right. Maybe I do need to grow up. The bell rings, dragging me from my thoughts. Standing carefully as not to trip over the stupid desk, I throw everything in my bag and make my way to the student parking lot.

  Taking my time, I slowly walk towards my red, 1974 Ford F150. It is old and the rust blends in with the red paint, but I love it because it is mine. It is one of the few things I have left from my mom. She gave it to me before she died. Everything else, my dad has sold or traded to help with the bills. At least that is what he tells me when he is sober. I doubt he has paid any bills. I started working at the diner to keep food in the fridge and the electric company from turning us off again. Heat is important. We might not get as much snow here in Central Indiana as they do in the northern parts, but it still gets cold enough for ice storms to hit.

  After my mom died, things went to hell. My dad was never a big drinker, but it seems that it is the only way for him to cope these days. At first, when people would see us walking around town they would give my dad looks of pity. Everyone knew how much he loved my mom. He was taking everything hard, so they would cast him looks of sympathy, but now those looks are given to me. I hear the whispers behind my back. “Poor girl.” “Bless her heart.” “I heard her daddy is hittin’ the bottle again.” “Poor thing just lost her mama and now she’s losing him.”

  As I am walking towards my truck, I bump into one of the cheerleaders for our school. She tosses her blonde curly hair over her shoulder and eyes me down. “God. You are such a flake.” Her tone is meant to attack me. If she is trying to intimidate me, it is not going to work. I could care less what anyone thinks about me here.

  Words spin in my head as I think of things I could say, but I stay silent. There is no need to explain myself to her. She will never leave this town, very few people do. Rebecca is leaning against the passenger door of my truck. A long piece of gum is strung out between her forefinger and her teeth. I open my door, jump right in, and turn the key. Rebecca does the same. Neither one of us wants to be here any longer than necessary.

  “You going to go to Holden’s tonight? He said he put new tires on the quad.” Rebecca’s voice is soft and sweet, just like her. She scrunches up her nose, while she waits for my reply. Her freckles all smash together on her alabaster skin.

  “I don’t know. I have to see what’s going on at home. You know I can’t just leave dad like that, besides do you have sunscreen this time? Last time you ended up looking like a tomato. We weren’t even out that long.” A smile sneaks its way into the corner of my mouth, but I am quick to catch it.

  “Carsten, did you just smile? I could have sworn you just smiled.”

  “I think your red hair is poisoning your brain. I have done no such thing.”

  “Sure, you just keep telling yourself that. It doesn’t matter anyway, as soon as you see Holden, there will be a smile on your face. I don’t know why you won’t admit you love him.”

  “I have never denied it. I have always loved him and I always will, but it’s not like that. It’s not like what Michael and I have.”

  Sighing, Rebecca turns her head and looks out the window, staring into the fields we pass. “No one has anything like you and Michael have. I may not know what love is, but I know what you two have is far from love. I just wish you’d see it. Even Noelle has noticed. Just ask her, she’ll tell you.”

  “Damn it. You leave him alone. He’s the only person I have right now. You don’t understand.”

  “Stop the truck. You stop this truck, right now.”

  My foot slams on the brakes, as I pull to the side of the road. I have crossed the line, but I won’t apologize. No one understands what this feels like. “Becca.”

  “Don’t ‘Becca’ me. You act as though he’s the only person who loves you, who cares for you. That’s bullshit and you know it. You have me, Noelle, and Holden. I have always loved you and so have they. How do you think that makes me feel? Makes Holden feel?”

  “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry? Because I can’t. You don’t know what it’s like. Michael understands; he has lost a parent, too.”

  Stepping out of my truck, Rebecca looks up at me with her curly red hair glowing in the afternoon sun. She almost looks as though she’s on fire. “So, only people who have lost a parent can love you? I see. Now, that clearly makes sense. I’m going to walk. I’ll be at Holden’s later, if you pull your head out of your ass.” The faded red door clatters, as she slams it shut. There are probably little pieces of rust on the road from the bottom of the door. I watch as she cuts through the farmer’s field to her house. Driving would have been quicker, but I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to sit in a truck with me either.

  Music softly fills the truck. I spin the dial turning it up, so I can sing along. Tanya Tucker’s voice blasts from the dusty speakers, but I have caught the end of the song, so I’ll have to wait for something else to make me feel better.

  I turn left onto a gravel road as George Strait’s voice sweetly pulls at my heartstrings. “If I Know Me” flows through the speakers, leaving me to deal with all the guilt of letting one of the only people who still loves me, walk away. The damn song is going on about turning the car around. Shit.

  Damn country music gets me every time. Slamming my brakes, I spin the wheel of my truck. The tires kick up dust and rocks ricochet across the road into the nearby ditch as I turn my truck around and head back towards Rebecca’s.

  *****

  I drive up the dirt path leading to her house, and park my truck right in front of the faded white porch. Rebecca won’t be here yet, so I mak
e myself comfortable on the porch swing, watching the wind blow across the cornfields. Closing my eyes, I lean back against the faded swing, give myself a little push, and lift myself just off the porch. The warm breeze tickles my cheek, as I revel in the quiet.

  “I knew you loved me, you spoiled brat.” My eyes pop open to see my friend with her fiery red hair and freckled nose staring me down. Worry fills my stomach as I watch her arch her eyebrow at me, before grabbing the bottom of the swing and lifting it as high as she can. “Say you’re sorry, or I’ll swing your ass so high you’ll fly right off this porch.”

  “Jesus, Becca. I’m sorry. Now, put me down before you kill me.”

  “Fine.” Slowly lowering her arms, my feet come back in contact with the porch. Her red hair should be a warning of her temper. “Stop calling me Becca. I told you, I’m Rebecca now. I’m almost an adult.”

  “So, not having a nickname makes you an adult? Wow. If only I had known you were an adult this whole time, I would have shown you more respect. I never knew once people called someone by their full name that they’d just up and grow up.” I crumple in the swing, as laughter falls from my lips. It’s not funny, but the way her nose has crinkled, along with the shock of irritation on her face, has encouraged my chaotic spurt of laughter. Taking a long, deep breath through my nose, I try my best to calm down.

  “You done?”

  “Yeah. I’m done.”

  With a nod of her head, I follow Rebecca into the house. Her bedroom is the only bedroom upstairs. I’m almost certain it was an attic at one point and her parents just remodeled it. There is a small sitting area at the top of the stairs. It is currently adorned with black and white furniture, with a checkered design on top of the coffee table.