Ten Tiny Breaths

by K. A. Tucker

  And I let him in. It’s my fault! I’m the idiot.

  I pound away on the twenty pound bag of sand. I love the sand. It absorbs all my emotions without disapproval and lets me use it without expectation.

  “Angry about something?”

  I whip around to find Ben standing behind me with his arms folded over his chest and a knowing smirk on his face. I turn back and execute a perfect kick. “Not at all.”

  Ben walks around to catch the bag. He gestures as if to tell me to continue while he holds. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

  I hoof the bag extra hard, and in a way I know Ben isn’t expecting. I hope it hits him square in the balls, just for bringing up Trent. It doesn’t, but it does earn a grunt. “What boyfriend?”

  “The one who’s always at the bar.”

  “Have you seen him at the bar lately?” Punch.

  There’s a long pause. “No, suppose I haven’t.”

  “Well, then, Lawyer Boy, what would you deduce from that? Or are you not able to? You’re not going to make a very good lawyer if that’s the case.”

  Another kick to the bag. Another grunt from Ben.

  “So you’re unattached again?”

  “I’ve always been unattached.”

  “Right. Well, then, how about we go out tonight?”

  “I’m working.”

  “So am I. Let’s grab an early dinner and head over together.”

  “Sure, fine. Whatever,” I say without thinking. I don’t want to think.

  Ben’s brow arches. “Seriously?”

  I stop kicking now and wipe the layer of sweat from my brow with my forearm. “Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?”

  “Well, yeah, but I was expecting a ‘drop dead’ answer instead.”

  “I’m good for that too.”

  “No, no!” Ben quickly answers, backing away from me. “I’ll come get you at six?”

  “Fine,” I say, flying through the air with a perfect round house.

  ***

  “What did I agree to?” I ask myself as I stand under the hot water, staring up at the showerhead, imagining another red serpent there to scare the daylights out of me. If I screamed loud enough, would Trent magically appear? Would he break down the door again? I wouldn’t let him leave this time. Not a chance.

  I run into Livie in the kitchen. We’ve hardly talked since our fight. “I’m sorry, Livie,” is all I say.

  She ropes her arm around my waist. “He’s a jerk, Kacey.”

  “A stupid jerk,” I mumble.

  “A big stupid jerk,” she answers. It’s a game we used to play when we were little. It drove our parents batty.

  “A big stupid smelly jerk.”

  “A big stupid smelly jerk with hemorrhoids.”

  I slap my forehead. “Oh! And she pulls out the ’roids for the win!”

  Livie giggles. “Where are you going?”

  I slide out from her grip to put my shoes on. “Out.”

  “Like on a date?” Livie’s face lights up.

  I hold my hand up to stall her excitement. “Ben’s a meathead from work. We’re grabbing a bite and then he’s driving me to work and I’ll smash his nuts if he tries anything.”

  There’s a knock on the door. “One meathead, coming right up!” I joke as I throw open the door, expecting to find Ben’s giant frame and obnoxious grin filling the doorway.

  I stumble back two steps as the air is knocked out of my lungs.

  It’s Trent.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Hey,” he offers, sliding his aviator glasses off to show me those beautiful two-toned blue eyes that I could lose myself in.

  I stare into those eyes, feeling the blood drain from my body as I watch the full gamut of emotions play across his face—relief, guilt, grief, bitterness, and then guilt again. I’m sure there’s an array of reactions showing on my own face but I couldn’t identify any one of them right now. And so I simply stand there, mouth agape, having lost all ability to speak.

  Livie hasn’t though. Far from it. “You! Stay away from her!” She shrieks, charging forward. Her movement breaks my trance, and I just manage to grab her before she rakes ten layers of Trent’s skin off with flailing claws.

  “Give us a minute, Livie,” I manage to say with complete calm. Inside, a torrent of sensations threaten to sweep me off my feet. The door beside me sways and I fight harder to pull air into my lungs as my heart speeds up. Trent is back. It’s as much a punch to the gut as a swell inside my chest. Like a bad addiction, I know it’s wrong, but, damn, does it leave me satisfied.

  Livie turns and stomps toward her room but not before throwing one last icy glare Trent’s way. “Hemorrhoids! Remember that, Kacey!”

  Her sudden outburst and the seriousness of her attitude ruptures my panic attack like a needle to a balloon, and I find myself chuckling. God, I love that girl.

  Maybe it’s my laughter that eases Trent, gives him the crazy nerve to touch me, I don’t know. “Let me explain,” he begins, his hands moving to mine.

  I recoil, my mercurial mood snapping back to anger. “Don’t you dare touch me,” I hiss.

  He holds his hands out in front of him—palms outward—in a sign of peace. “Fair enough, Kace. But give me a chance to explain.”

  My arms cross my chest and I hug myself tightly to keep from collapsing. Or reaching out to him, to his warmth. “Go ahead. Explain,” I growl, fighting the overwhelming urge to throw myself at his body, to not listen to any excuse because none of it really matters. It’s the past, and the way he makes me feel when I’m near him is all that matters right now. But I can’t do that. I can’t weaken.

  His lips part to speak and my knees go wobbly. Oh God. If I have to stand in his presence for one more second, I am going to lose all my fight.

  Ben appears around the corner like a knight in shining armor.

  “Time’s up,” I declare a little too loud. I shoulder pass past Trent, slamming the apartment door shut. “Hey, Ben!” It’s obvious to anyone who knows me that this is all an act. I’m never this cheery. I’m never cheery, period.

  Ben looks at me, and then at Trent, and I see the wheels turning. He knows he just interrupted something. He’s a smart meathead. “Do you want me to—” He gestures to the exit, like he’s suggesting he could leave.

  “Nope!” I hook my arm through his and tug him forward, holding my head high and Ben’s arm close, letting my anger fuel my steps forward.

  Inside, I feel the walls caving in.

  ***

  “You’ve hardly touched your pasta,” Ben notes. We’re at an Italian restaurant five minutes away from Penny’s.

  “I’ve touched it plenty,” I grumble as I stab it with my fork. “I’ve touched it so much that your pasta is jealous. I hear talk of a spaghetti smack down.”

  “You’ve hardly eaten your pasta,” Ben rephrases but smirks.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Is it because of that guy?”

  We’ve been sitting at this restaurant for forty-five minutes and this is the first question Ben asks me. The rest of the time, I listen to him drone on about the shot knee that kept him from a football scholarship, and about how he wants to be a criminal lawyer in Vegas because that’s where all the rich crooks live. I don’t know if he doesn’t ask me anything because he’s a narcissist or he realizes I don’t like answering questions. Either way, it has suited me just fine.

  I sigh as I pull a twenty out of my purse and toss it on the table. “We should probably get going soon.”

  He frowns as he hands the money back. “My treat.”

  “I’m not having sex with you.”

  “Whoa! Who said anything about sex? I’m just here for the meal and the pleasant company.” He acts all offended, but the glimmer in his irises tells me he’s teasing. An unattractive snort escapes me.

  “Okay, fine. Mediocre company.” He shoves a piece of bread into his mouth and adds with a smile, “Hot piece of ass.”

&nb
sp; “And that’s the Ben we know and love,” I confirm with an exaggerated nod and a sugar packet to his forehead.

  “Seriously though,” Ben starts as he scrapes the last mound of pasta from his plate. I wait patiently for him to finish chewing and swallow. “Why’d you agree to come out with me? You’re obviously not over that other guy and, even if you were, I’m no idiot. I don’t know what that day in the gym was …”

  Dammit. I am that obvious. I hope I’m not to Trent though. I don’t want him to see through me so easily. He’ll swoop in and melt my defenses with those smoldering baby blues. I shrug. “You don’t want me, Ben. I’m seven layers of fucked up with a side of batshit crazy.”

  He grins but I catch the sadness in his eyes as he throws down a few bills to cover the meal. “I already knew that.”

  “Well then why’d you ask me out? Especially after what I did to you that day in the gym?”

  He shrugs. “Waiting for your next moment of full on crazy? I’ll be faster next time. In and out.”

  I burst out laughing, Ben’s shameless honesty a welcome relief.

  “I don’t know, Kace. I’m around a lot of sluts and airheads. You’re different. You’re smart and funny. And you can shrink a guy’s confidence like no other girl I’ve met.”

  “I didn’t think anyone could shrink that swelled head of yours, Ben.”

  He grins arrogantly. “Depends which head you’re talking about.”

  ***

  “I hear Trent’s back in town?” Storm whispers to me as I pour shots of Patron for a bachelor party.

  “Oh yeah?” I mutter, pursing my lips. I don’t know what else to say. I haven’t forgotten. I can’t get through a minute without his name popping into my mind, without remembering how incredible his touch feels against my skin, without wanting it all back the way it was for that short, magical period of time before he ripped my heart out of my chest and tossed it to the curb.

  I hate him for making me feel like this. For giving me hope only to yank it all away. For pulling me above the water, helping me breathe again, before shoving my head back under.

  So when I find him staring down at me from the other side of the bar near last call, I have to brace myself against the bar, anger and grief slamming into me with such force that I struggle to stay upright.

  “What do you want?” I hiss.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “No.”

  “Please, Kacey.” That tone, that voice. Already, I felt it probing for my weak spot, a place to wiggle in and win me over. I won’t let it. Not this time.

  “You had three weeks to talk to me and … oh wait!” I smack my forehead for effect. “You disappeared off the face of the fucking earth. That’s right. I almost forgot.”

  “Just give me five minutes,” he pleads, leaning forward.

  “Fine! Go ahead. This is the perfect time and place to talk.” My arms fly out, exaggerating how much this is not the perfect time and place to talk.

  Trent’s jaw tenses. “I mean it, Kacey. Five minutes, in private. I need to explain something. I need … you.”

  “Oh, you need me? Interesting.” I force the words through clenched teeth. Inside, the glue that holds me together strains against that word. Need. Trent needs me. “Fine.” I slap my towel down onto the bar and holler, “back in five, Storm.”

  She looks over, sees Trent, glances at me with concern, but then nods.

  “Come with me.” I stomp past him, acutely aware that Nate and Ben are following close, but I continue. I march past Jeff and Bryan, the two bull dog bouncers who watch over the private rooms. They don’t try to stop me. I’m sure my stiff spine and scowl that says “back the fuck away before I choke you with your own tongue” has something to do with that.

  My leg flies forward to kick open the door to an available room. Spinning on my heels, I stand with arms folded across my chest, watching Trent’s lean body and his apprehensive face come towards me. Jerking my head toward the room, I command, “Get in.”

  “Kacey …”

  “You said private. How much more private can you get than a private room?” I ask, my tone coated with ice.

  With a defeated sigh and a small nod, Trent passes through. Behind him, I see Ben lean in to say something to Nate. It seems to keep the beast at bay. Ben heads toward me with a look of concern. “You okay, Kacey?”

  “What do you think, Ben?”

  His chin furrows in thought. “I think I’ll stand guard out here. I won’t come in. Not unless I hear something that sounds bad, deal?”

  “Deal.” I offer him a small nod of appreciation. I think, after our sordid past, Ben and I have come to an understanding. I may even call him a friend.

  I storm into the room, slamming the door behind me. Inside is a small dimly lit space with a black lounge chair and mood music, different from what plays out in the main club area. Storm says they have staff to thoroughly clean and sanitize the rooms after each client leaves. Even if that’s not true, right now I don’t care.

  I stalk over to where Trent stands and I shove him backward into the lounge chair. Then my hand fumbles with the side zipper of my skirt.

  “What are you …” Trent begins to ask but his words die as I unzip my skirt and let it drop to the ground. I step out of the skirt as my hands move to unbutton my gauzy blouse, starting at the top, sliding buttons through eyelets deftly.

  “Kacey, no.” Trent leans forward.

  My three inch heel slamming into his chest forces him back into his seat.

  “This is what you came for, isn’t it? This is what you need?” My tone is as cold as a deep freeze. “What you’ve always wanted?” I toss my shirt on the floor and glower back at him in nothing but my bra, panties, and heels. “This is the part where you tell me I’m so beautiful. So say it. Say it so we can get this over with, and you can disappear again.” My voice wavers a bit at the end and I clam up, not trusting it right now.

  “No, Kacey. Jeez.” Trent slides off the chair onto his knees, his hands finding their way to my thighs to hold them delicately.

  “No touching the girls. Did you forget the rules already?” I sneer at him.

  His eyes haven’t left mine, and in them I see a torrent of indescribable emotion that threatens to melt all of my defenses. I have to break his gaze and look away, a lump forming in my throat that I can’t seem to shove down.

  “I’m sorry. I never wanted to cause you more pain that you’ve had to endure.”

  “Really? Leaving me a vague note the morning after Storm’s attack—after we have sex for the first time—and then disappearing for almost three weeks is your way of not causing me more pain?” My voice cracks and I grit my teeth. I hate my voice.

  His head bows forward against my belly as his hands slide up to my hips before moving back down to my thighs again. They feel so good. I don’t want them to feel good. Damn, traitorous thighs. Fight it, Kacey. Fight it.

  “Kacey, I was wrong.”

  I swallow. “About?”

  “About pushing you like I did. I thought if you opened up about your past, I could somehow fix it for you. I shouldn’t have kept pushing you like that.” I suck in a gasp as I feel a set of warm lips trail my belly. He knows that’ll melt my defenses. He’s not playing fair. Worse, in this moment I don’t want him to play any other way. “I should have just focused on making you happy. And I will. From now on, Kacey. I will. I will devote every day for the rest of our lives to making you happy. I promise.”

  Will not buy it. Will not buy it. “You’ve said that before. And then you vanished.” I don’t like the way my tone falters, like I’m about to cry. One … two … three… four…

  Fuck. Useless.

  He leans back on his heels and his hands slide down my thighs again. He doesn’t meet my eyes though, choosing instead to stare at the floor between us. When he speaks, his jaw is set with a hint of anger. “Kacey, you’re not the only one with issues. I’m fucked up, okay? There are things about my past tha
t I don’t know how to tell you. That I can’t tell you.”

  His admission catches me off guard. Trent with a dark past? I’ve never once even contemplated that. Why have I not contemplated that? I’ve been so wrapped up in my own issues that I haven’t even thought of his, that’s why. But how dark could anything from his past really be? With a shaky finger, I reach out and gently push his chin up so his head tilts back, so those beautiful blue irises can pull me in. He seems so level-headed, so well-adjusted, so perfect.

  “I’ve never once pushed you to divulge your skeletons,” I say, my tone softer, without bitterness.

  “I know. I know, Kace.” Trent’s grip on my thighs tightens as he draws me closer to him. His fingertips slide up to grasp my hips in their entirety, his thumbs sliding along my pelvic bone, lighting a tiny spark of need mixed among these emotional flames already burning bright. My hands instinctively slide down to cover his.

  He continues. “After that night, I … I thought I pushed you too hard. I thought I caused what happened the night Storm was attacked.”

  I shudder with the reminder. My dark side. My murderous side. “You didn’t cause that, Trent. That was me, finally coming unhinged.”

  “I know, babe. I know that now. But I had to get away and think. I had to walk away for a while and—”

  “You could have sent me a message.”

  “I know. I fucked up. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to explain why I ran off. I was scared.” One look up shows me the tears welling in his eyes. All my rage extinguishes, all my defenses shatter.

  I can’t handle seeing Trent like this.

  “No, it’s okay.” My hand strokes the back of his head with nothing but compassion while my other one wipes the tear away. Who is this person talking? She’s not the one who ran around the apartment on a tirade, stalking the news, and ready to mutilate Ken dolls.

  “I’m so sorry, Kacey. I’ll stop pushing you. No more talk of past. None. Just the future. Please? I need you.”

  Again, that need word. I can’t even speak. I only nod.

  But that’s enough for Trent. Strong fingers flexed at my hips tug me down. I willingly drop to my knees. Trent pulls me to him so our bodies hold tight against each other. Warm hands find their way across my bare back to unclasp my bra. He casts it aside and reaches forward to cup my breasts at the same time that his mouth finally finds mine.