Every Breath

by Tasha Ivey

  “Drew, you can either give me the keys, so I can leave, or I’m walking out and calling the police. It’s your choice.”

  The creepy smile slides right off his face. “My choice, huh?” He dangles my keys from his index finger and stretches his arm toward me. “Come and get ‘em, then.”

  And this is that moment when all of those years of watching horror movies come back to me. As I take a few slow steps toward him, I think of all those stupid girls in those movies, always thinking the nightmare is over and then the dead guy comes back to life. It never fails. My eyes dart to his. They are calculating, watching every movement of my body. Waiting to lure me in just close enough. But I realize it half a second too late. Just as I turn to run, he lunges at me, grabbing my shirt and jerking me backward into him, and I can feel the side of my shirt ripping as I struggle to get away, fighting with everything I have inside me.

  “Just calm down, let me say something, and I’ll let you go,” he orders while deflecting an elbow to his stomach. I’ll be surprised if he actually follows through with it, but I decide to try it anyway. At this point, I just want out, and I’ll do anything I can to make that happen. No, this isn’t the Drew I know at all. This Drew scares the shit out of me.

  “Good girl,” he praises when I will myself to freeze. Letting go of my shirt, he spins me around to face him. “Before you go, listen very carefully to what I’m saying to you. You and I aren’t finished . . . as a matter of fact, we just got started. I get that you’re mad at me, and you need some time to cool off. I’m good with that. But you will be back, and until then, I’m going to be waiting. When I want something, I don’t give up, and I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. You’re my entire world.”

  He shifts his gears from creepy psycho to lovesick puppy in a matter of seconds, and it’s insanely unnerving. Bipolar much? I take a step back, and he holds my keys out to me again. This time I snatch them away before anything else can be done.

  “Goodbye,” I barely manage to whisper when I turn to take the few steps back toward the door. As soon as the door clicks shut behind me, I feel as if my legs can’t hold my weight any longer. The adrenaline that was keeping me upright is running in low supply, so I use what is left to sprint to my car, fling myself inside, and immediately hit the door lock button. I even sling a little gravel when I quickly pull onto the highway.

  It’s over. It was strange and scary, but it’s definitely over. And I’m glad I saw this side of him before we went any further. I’m no psychiatrist, but the man has some serious issues. I’ve picked up on a little bit of his controlling behaviors before, but I didn’t really suspect he was quite this bad. Let’s put it this way . . . I’ve never actually feared bodily harm in his presence before, not until last night. That added to tonight’s antics is completely unnerving.

  I’m not sure how I’m even driving right now. My heart is nearly pounding out of my chest, and I have to force myself to breathe steadily enough to fight hyperventilation. My legs feel completely numb. My hands are trembling so hard that they’re slightly jerking the steering wheel from side to side. And the thing that shocks me the most is that there are tears streaming down each side of my nose. I don’t think I was aware of exactly how much he scared me back there.

  It’s all over now, and I don’t have to see him again. That was a small price to pay to end the charade and to get a little piece of myself back. This time, I’m going to go about all of this a different way. There’s no forcing myself into love. I’m not so sure why I thought that was even an option. It’s not a matter of making myself get over Shane; it’s a matter of allowing myself to move on. I was so worried about how much my own pain was hurting everyone around me, I never let myself truly grieve. It’s time to unleash all of those feelings that I’ve kicked into the darkest corners of my soul, confront them, and then set them free. He doesn’t have to be completely gone from my heart in order to go forward with my life. He’ll always be a part of me, and he’ll forever be my first love.

  I haven’t ever really agreed with the old saying that it’s better to have loved and lost than to have ever loved at all, but I understand it now. The loss hurts like hell, and probably always will, but I’m thankful for every second that he was a part of my life. He showed me what love should be like. He showed me what kind of love I deserve . . . the kind that I’m determined to find someday. Now that I have Drew out of my life, I refuse to settle for anything less than perfect.

  My ringing cell phone rudely interrupts my grand motivational lecture, but I’m hesitant to answer it. If it’s Drew, I know I don’t want to talk to him. Unfortunately, my phone is at the bottom of my purse, so I don’t want to risk wrecking in order to see who’s calling. I glance down at the two buttons on my steering wheel—one that answers a call and one that declines—trying to decide on which one to press.

  Giving up the battle, I punch the green one and hope for the best. “He-hello?”

  “I told you that you’d regret giving me your number. But, hey, at least it’s not the middle of the night. I do get some credit for that, right?” Sawyer’s husky voice radiates all around me from my car speakers, and I feel myself relax immediately. The familiar sound encompasses me and calms my frazzled nerves like a soothing balm. For the first time since I left Drew’s house, I’m finally able to take a full breath and loosen the death grip I have on the steering wheel. “Makenna? Can you hear me?”

  I’m so lost in the smooth baritone surrounding me that I forget that standard communication etiquette does require a reply when someone asks a question. “Oh, uh, yeah, I’m here. Sorry.”

  “What’s that noise? Are you driving?”

  “Yeah.”

  He pauses for a moment before he speaks again. “Well, okay. I’ll let you go, so you won’t be distracted.”

  “You don’t have to . . .” My words just drift off when I pull into my driveway. My house is completely dark and ominous, and the sudden realization that I don’t have everything I need to nail the back door shut hits me . . . it hits me like the hammer I don’t have. Or nails. Damn.

  “Everything okay?” he asks, easily picking up on my distraction. I swear I’m usually a lot more captivating when we talk, but it’s been a long day.

  Don’t judge me.

  I shut off the car and stare at the dark front porch, covered in menacing shadows that seem to be the gateway to the underworld. No way in hell am I going in there alone. “Hey, uh, Sawyer?”

  “Seriously, Makenna. Are you okay?”

  His voice is edged with alarm, and it makes me smile. “I’m fine. I promise. But I could really use a friend at the moment, and to be honest, you’re the only one I have.”

  “Whatever it is, consider it done. It’s not like I’m sleeping any time soon. My body doesn’t have any idea what time it is.”

  “Remember how I told you that I needed to talk to you about a few things?” And I remember that I told him that right after he kissed me today. “I’m thinking now might be a good time. How about I meet you somewhere?”

  “Oh, I remember.” He’s obviously thinking the same thing I just was. “Are you home? I don’t mind to come there, so you aren’t out driving at night.”

  “My house is kinda . . . broken. I’ll probably stay in a hotel tonight, so let’s just meet up at the coffee shop. I think they’re open until midnight.”

  “Broken? What’s going on? Just give me your address, and I’ll leave right now.”

  I try to convince him that we can talk about the house along with everything else at the coffee shop, but he won’t hear of it. I finally give in and tell him the address and some basic directions, and within ten minutes, a solitary beam of light turns from the highway and onto my drive. I’m quick to discover that there’s something about the low rumble of a motorcycle that practically liquefies my insides. And outsides. And any other sides I might have.

  When he pulls up beside me, I steal a glance, and . . . oh yeah, I’m
nothing but a big puddle. He’s dressed far too light for how cold it is tonight, but I’m certainly not complaining. I’ve only seen Sawyer wearing fatigues or those ugly tan t-shirts, so the sight of him in worn, faded jeans and a soft chocolate leather jacket is more than enough to make my heart beat a little faster. I can barely see his face through his helmet, but when he pulls it off to reveal his crooked smile, I completely forget where I am for a minute. Has he always been this gorgeous?

  Like an idiot, I just sit in the car and stare at him while he perches his helmet on the back of his bike and slips his gloves off. When he turns back toward my car, I realize my gawking just might freak him out, and being my only friend left, I don’t want to scare him off. Before I can reach the handle, he’s opening my door and holding his hand out to me to help me out of the car.

  But as soon as I stand, he pulls me into a bear hug. “You okay?”

  “I’m good. Why?” Oh my goodness, he smells good.

  “Well, there’s not a lot of light out here, but I can see dried streaks of mascara under your eyes. Bad day?”

  Nice. He’s standing here looking and smelling absolutely beautiful, and I’m the freak with a lopsided ponytail and running makeup. “My day was great since I had a surprise visitor in my class. He’s this completely adorable soldier. You wouldn’t know him.” And now I’m flirting. What the heck is wrong with me? “But my night? ‘Bad’ would be an understatement.”

  “Actually, I’ve seen this soldier you speak of, but I’m not so sure about him being adorable. Wanna tell me about your night? Or do you want to start with why you’re sitting in front of your house and not inside it?”

  I sigh and reach inside my car to snag my keys from the ignition. “All of the above. It’s all related in a way.” I jerk my head toward the house to signal him to follow, and I march up to the front door, steeling myself for his reaction when I open it. “This is what I meant by broken.” I shove the door open and flick on the light, but before I can step fully over the threshold, Sawyer’s arm wraps around my middle and jerks me back.

  “Don’t go in there! Have you called the police?”

  “Yes, I did . . . earlier this week. It’s okay. Every inch has been searched, but we still don’t know who did it or why.”

  He releases me, but he pushes himself in front of me to go in first. “Oh my God. Did they take anything?”

  “Not that I’ve noticed. It seems like they just wanted to break everything, which is why the police are so confused. There have been some break-ins on the other side of town recently, but there were actually stolen items. Every type of electronic was stolen from those homes. Nothing here.”

  He crouches by the window to pick up the remains of my laptop and several of the keys drop to the floor. “I guess this is why I hadn’t heard back from you.”

  “Yeah. I got the insurance check in the mail today, so I’m going to start replacing everything this weekend and try to clean it all up.”

  “Did they just hit this room?”

  I chuckle. No, it’s not funny, but at this point, all I can do is laugh or I’ll cry. “No room went untouched. It all looks like this.”

  He picks up two shredded cushions and puts them back on the sofa, making a feeble attempt to shove some of the stuffing back inside, and sits down. “You’ve been staying here all week like this?”

  “No.”

  Sawyer pats the cushion next to him. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  After I fill him in on everything that’s happened since I spoke to him online that night, he’s absolutely seething. Once I started talking, it all came out. And I mean all of it, including Drew forcing himself on me last night and our breakup tonight. I did, however, leave out the part about last night’s dream about him.

  “Makenna, he’s nuts. You need to get a restraining order or something. Do not let him get near you again, especially alone.”

  I pat his knee, but I decide to leave my hand there. His concern for me is endearing . . . a little unnecessary, but endearing. “I don’t plan on it. For some reason, he’s convinced I’m going to come back to him, but there’s no chance in hell that’s going to happen. I saw a side of him that I want no part of. And aside from when I went to his house, I really only saw him at school, and there’s always people there. I’ll be fine without a restraining order. It would probably make him worse anyway.”

  “But he knows where you live. And I’ve seen with my own two eyes that he has no problem showing up here in the middle of the night. It may blow over without any further incident, but it would make me feel better if you didn’t stay here alone for a while. Can’t you go stay with your parents?”

  “I haven’t told them about anything going on, and they would know something was up if I went to stay with them. They worry about me enough as it is, so I would rather they didn’t know about this. I’m going to nail the back door shut and block the front door with some furniture. I’ll be fine.”

  “Makenna, seriously?” He scrubs his hand over his face and laughs. “Tell you what . . . I’ll go home and get my car, and I’ll stay outside of your house tonight. I won’t be able to really sleep anyway, so I might as well do something productive. Keeping night watch happens to be a specialty of mine.”

  I shake my head emphatically. “Not a chance I’m going to let that happen. You need to get back on a normal schedule and try to get caught up on some rest. You can go home. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  “Fine,” he says. “Come home with me, then.”

  “No. I’ll be okay.”

  “No, you’re not understanding me. Either you come home with me, or I’m coming back and sleeping in my car. My level of comfort for the night is in your hands.” He smirks, exposing that solitary dimple.

  “Fine.” I try to act disappointed as that one word passes my lips, but I’m relieved that I won’t be sleeping here tonight. But on the other hand, there’s something a little slutty about sleeping in two different men’s homes within the same week. I’m willing to risk earning that title if it means I don’t have to stay here until it’s secure.

  Okay, fine. And I’m also happy to have an excuse to spend more time with Sawyer. Are you happy now?

  I jog upstairs to find an extra set of clothes, and Sawyer is right by my side the entire time. Without thinking about my present company, I begin rifling through a half-open drawer of underwear, tossing the more uncomfortable, more see-through ones on top of the dresser, in search of the comfy cotton variety. When he turns his broad back to me, I look over at him, then down at the scorching hot pink triangle of lace in my hand, and I know my face turns the exact same color. “Uh, sorry.”

  He snickers. “Please don’t apologize. It’s just . . . uh . . . I haven’t been around a woman in a long time. All of . . . that . . . is a bit of a shock to my senses right now.”

  “Well, we’re both in unfamiliar territory. There’s never been a man in my room.” I pause to look at the mess scattered across the floor. “Unless you count my intruder. If it was a man, then you’re the first man I’ve allowed in my room.”

  He turns around and looks at me, his eyes soft. “Not even Shane?”

  “Uh, no, actually.” I almost forgot he knew about him. “I lived in an apartment the entire time we dated, and when I was out of school during breaks, I stayed with my parents. This house was part of an inheritance from my grandparents—it was theirs. Once I graduated from college, it went to me, so I’ve only been here a little over a year.”

  “Sorry. I don’t know why I brought him up.”

  “No worries. For some unknown reason, I’m glad you did. It’s nice to hear people talk about him. Usually, it’s a subject that everyone avoids around me because they’re afraid to upset me. But I can’t say that I help that at all. I don’t talk about him to anyone, either. Well, except to you. You’re still the only one I’ve talked to about the accident.”

  He gives a sage nod. “I know exactly what you mean, but I’m in the same boa
t. I’m not much of a talker, either.”

  His comment reminds me of William’s stories of Sawyer’s childhood, and I want to just drop what I’m doing and hug him, to let him know that I know what he’s been through, what he’s endured. But he can’t know that William told me, not yet. He just got home, and he seems happy, so I don’t want to ruin that for him by bringing that up.

  After I stuff a few things in my bag and argue with Sawyer over the fact that he’ll freeze to death if he rides his motorcycle home—and I lose the argument—I follow him over to his house. He’s never talked much about where he lives, but he has mentioned that it’s small and old, but it has an amazing view. He leads me down a long stretch of too familiar highway, and I cringe when we pass Drew’s house. I don’t even look in its direction for fear of seeing him.

  Lucky for me, though, we continue several more miles down the road before he veers off onto a long, sandy driveway. Nestled in the center of the most gorgeous, stately Live Oaks I’ve ever seen sits a tiny weather-beaten cottage. It’s white paint is flaking off in places, and some of the wood siding is warped from the moist, salty air, but it also looks perfectly cozy and quiet. There are wisps of smoke coming from the rock chimney, and a soft, orange glow shows through one of the front windows. Just beyond the house, I can see the bay with the silvery moonlight reflecting off the ripples. It looks like something you’d see in a painting.

  Sawyer parks his motorcycle next to a tarp-covered vehicle, and I pull in next to him. Again, before I can get out, he’s there, opening my door for me and grabbing my bag from the backseat. The manners instilled in a good soldier. A good man.