Breathe You (Pieces of Broken Book 2) Page 4

  A sorry expression washed over his face. “I’m sorry, miss. I wish I could, but there’s nothing I can do.”

  I swiped the paper from the counter, stuffing it into my bag. “Fine.”

  I can’t see him. I just can’t!

  I bit at the skin surrounding my nail as I made the short walk to the English department. Blake and I had made sure to take the class together when we’d registered for the spring semester. Now, as I sat with the weight of that decision on my shoulders, I regretted not keeping my personal life separate from my academic career.

  If I dropped the class, I’d be flushing everything I’d worked for down the drain. I was supposed to be on the fast track to a successful career. I couldn’t jeopardize that. Now more than ever, I needed to solidify my independence and learn to stand on my own two feet. The way my brain had been since the incident—I wouldn’t say the other word—it was going to be the biggest struggle of my life to focus and retain information, but I had to make it happen.

  I checked my watch. I was five minutes late.

  Perfect.

  I curled my hand on the door handle and tugged, the loose hairs around my face moving to the side from the blow of air. The professor regarded me, and I nodded in acknowledgment before averting my gaze to the floor and slipping into the first seat in the first row, careful not to peek at the VIP section in the back.

  Tingles prickled the raised hairs lining the back of my neck, and I knew he was in the room. My body always knew when he was around. Feeling as though my discomfort was visible, I rubbed at the traitorous skin, willing it to relax.

  Flipping my notebook open, I put my pen cap between my teeth and tugged, exposing the tip. I scrawled down as much as I could as quickly as possible, hoping my hand would make up for my brain’s lack of retention. I did this the entire class and as the hour closed in and the class was about to end, I was physically and mentally exhausted.

  But then my body reacted.

  Anxiety raced up my spine as my skin pebbled. My fingers circled around the college-ruled pages, my head itching to turn around and steal a glance behind me. It took all my strength not to.

  He’s close.

  A clump of paper folded in quarters dropped on my desk just as a familiar scent floated past me on a breeze. His scent. A mix of soap and musk and something else entirely unique to him. Closing my eyes, I sucked it in and allowed it to simmer into my pores. I’d missed that smell and the warm tingle it always spread throughout my veins.

  I didn’t look up. I couldn’t. I kept my chin tucked low to hide the pool that had gathered in my lower lids. My nostrils burned, my senses on high alert.

  The professor dismissed class, but I didn’t dare move for fear my weak and tingling limbs wouldn’t carry me. I slid a shaky hand to the paper and curled my fist around it. I picked at the edges, unsure I wanted to see what was inside. Then I peeled it open, knowing I could never deny myself of even that small piece of him. At the sight of his neatly scrawled, familiar penmanship, my heart skipped a beat and prickles raged across my scalp, remembering all of the sweet words and notes he had written me in the past. But this one hit me much harder.

  One word. So meaningful it punched me in the gut.

  Unicorn.

  Fucking unicorn. It was the best and worst thing he could have written. His words all those months ago came barreling back, shooting to my brain in a head rush.

  “A unicorn is a fabled creature, a myth. They’re impossible to catch. When I was younger, I thought if I looked hard enough that one day I’d find one. I guess I was right. I finally found my unicorn. That’s probably why I feel like I always need to keep my hands on you. I feel like one day I’ll turn around and you’ll be gone.”

  Another promise I’d broken.

  This guy would always be the death and the life of me.

  My heart smacked against my chest cavity. I wasn’t ready to face him. I looked toward the door, wiping my hand along my nose. Bunches of people rushed back and forth, but no Blake. I pushed my books into my bag and opened the front zipper, to tuck away Blake’s note so it wouldn’t get ruined. It might be the last I ever heard from him.

  Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I exited the room. Though every sense I had ached to find Blake and be close to him, I knew it was best that I didn’t. It was a battle of wills.

  I pulled the edges of my wool coat together, bearing down against the cold as I stepped into the cool air. New York in January could be brutal. Tucking my head low to block the wind, I moved at a swift pace down the steps. My skin buzzed as the hairs stood at attention, but it felt different. It didn’t feel like a chill from the cold. It felt like . . .

  “Angel.” His crisp voice cut through the nip in the air, stopping me in my tracks.

  Though my legs ceased movement, I didn’t look up. I couldn’t meet those blue-diamond eyes. Hurt and shame barreled into me, slamming into my chest, into my heart. Showing me with its quickened state, it was still capable of pumping. Letting me feel each erratic pass of blood through it. Each beat pummeling me further.

  Silence ballooned like a cloud, but I felt his approach. It felt like my skin was lifting from my bones, aching to draw him underneath. Lips slightly parted to calm my ragged breaths, I tucked my jaw into my collarbone and waited for the blow. For the feel of him this close, his voice, his . . .

  “Angel?”

  The familiarity of that sound was directly behind me that time, laced with heartbreak, drenched in uncertainty. If I rocked back on my heels, I knew I’d fall into his arms. God, just one rock was all it would take to feel his comfort, and I swore my heels swayed on their own accord.

  But I couldn’t answer.

  I was so ashamed knowing someone else had touched me after I’d told him I was his. Guilt that I hadn’t been strong enough to stop Damon—strong enough to be the woman Blake needed—raced rampantly through my veins. I hadn’t been strong enough to open my mouth and say what was happening to me. Not just for me. But . . . for him. I wasn’t strong enough for him.

  He didn’t even know why I had pushed him away. Why I had cut him off. I’d just dismissed his feelings as though they didn’t matter. His love. That had probably hurt him most.

  “Angel.” And there was that crack in his voice I couldn’t bear to hear.

  Blake’s chest brushed against my back, and his hands enveloped my shoulders, sending a wave of heat through my chilled body, despite my thick coat. The connection between us could never be lost. It was like a living, breathing entity, fueled when we were together. The feeling of it was so overwhelming that it swallowed me whole and made me lightheaded. Made it impossible to withstand him, and for his sake, I had to. I wouldn’t drag him back into my nightmare, couldn’t jeopardize his well-being anymore. I knew I needed to get out of here, or I’d give in. God, all I wanted to do was give in and let him hold me. I’d missed those hands, his warmth and his support. His voice and—my body caved further—those eyes.

  I couldn’t turn around and face those eyes.

  “I can’t do this,” I whispered before pulling away from him and taking off as quickly as I could. I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder and bore down, the balls of my feet digging into the pavement. My hair whipped me in the face as my head swung left, then right, looking for an escape. I knew he was right behind me, felt the pull on my back, but I kept on.

  I continued into the subway, hearing the screeching train approach. I hung onto the railing, taking the stairs two at a time, just as the train puffed to a stop in front of me. Scooting into the car, I went to the door opposite me and slammed my heaving back against it as Blake emerged at the bottom of the same steps I’d just run down. The sight of him for the first time in weeks sent the heart that was already racing in my chest, pumping in overdrive. I’d forgotten how beautiful he was, though he now wore a heavy patch of facial hair and eyes that almost seemed as though they had died and were merely used for seeing. They used to be so full of life. I once thought they could tell
a whole story themselves.

  He looked around before spotting me and making his way to the door.

  Please close. Please close. Please close.

  My knees knocked front and back as my nails dug into the flesh of my palm. In a short jog, he hurried toward me, his focus caging me to the very wall I was bound to. Right before the last stride that would have put him inside the same subway car as me, the glass and metal plates of the door closed with a familiar chime in front of him, placing a barrier between us.

  He looked to the right, to the conductor. “Hey!” He pounded his fist on the Plexiglas.

  The doors remained closed, and he looked back to me, hurt and angst bleeding through his eyes, begging me to come to him. He smacked his open palm against the glass, and his lips parted. Focusing on my eyes, he mouthed the three unmistakable words before the train hissed, whisking me away.

  My head dropped forward, my hair creating a veiled shield as the speckled pattern of the floor bled into a kaleidoscope of tears.

  “I love you, too.”

  BLAKE

  SHE LOOKED TERRIBLE.

  Seeing her walk through those doors sent a wave crashing through me. I used to ride that wave on a high, but now I was being drowned by it. I couldn’t breathe as I continued the endless spirals beneath the water, trying with everything to swim to the surface. My lungs were heavy, collapsing, useless.

  I tried to will her to look at me the whole class. I stared at every strand on her head, burning a hole in them, hoping she’d turn around even just once. See me. Want me. But she didn’t. And the need to be near her clawed at my skin.

  Even with her head low and her hair hanging in her face, I could see how bad she looked. Pale and like she hadn’t eaten in days, maybe weeks. And through her thick coat, I could feel the boniness beneath my fingers. My broken angel. I didn’t know what she didn’t understand. Why she couldn’t trust me enough to let me in, to let me fix her.

  I’d kept quiet tabs on her through Jace in the hopes she’d return to me one day . . .

  If there was anything left of me when she did.

  “Tell me,” I demand.

  “I already told you, sugar. I won’t betray Eva’s secrets. She’ll tell you on her own. When she’s ready,” Jace whips back at me.

  I shove a hand through my hair, ripping at the ends. “Listen, I did what she asked. I haven’t contacted her. But, how do you expect me to help her if I don’t know all the facts?” My tone is escalating, my patience dwindling.

  Jace doesn’t flinch. “I’m helping her. The same way I always have.”

  The cool assuredness in his voice boils my blood. How can he act so aloof when I’m dying over here? After everything Angel and I have been through, I’m being shunned. Thrown to a back burner like I’m not an important part of her life. From the moment I met her, everything in me told me to protect her. I don’t know how to sit idly by while she’s falling apart.

  That’s it.

  I straighten my spine. “Fine then. If you won’t tell me . . .” I dig deep, finding the words I’m sure will set off my girl’s best friend, “then I’m sure Abby will.”

  Red splotches race up Jace’s throat, his eyes widening before narrowing at me. “Stay away from Abby.”

  Good, I struck a nerve. I slowly turn to leave. “I’m sorry, I would love to. But I think it’s in Eva’s best interest if—”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  Jace grabs my wrist, yanking me back and on instinct, I swing, my fist landing on his tightened jaw. Thankfully, as unhinged as I am, something in me holds back so the blow to his face is only enough to stun him, but it still feels crappy. We’re on the same side. I shouldn’t be fighting with the one person who knows what I’m going through—what she is going through. He’s my only gateway to her, and I can’t afford to burn that bridge.

  “Jace. I’m sorry, man.” I take one step forward, and he takes one step back. That makes me stop. His back straightens as he drops his hand, the glow of my mark becoming darker and darker.

  Jace jabs me in the chest. “I’m going to let that slide . . . once,” he annunciates the last word. “I know this isn’t you and that’s the only reason you’re still standing. But even though I like it rough, if you hit me anywhere above my belt from this moment on, you will have no hand left. We on the same page?”

  “Yes,” I concede. “I’m just—”

  “I know what you are. And I told you I sympathize. But don’t push my buttons.” Jace steps in closer, crowding me. “And if you ever—ever—mention any of this to Eva’s family, I will hunt you down. Got me? That’s for her to do.”

  I swallow hard, knowing I have to agree, but not happy about it. Without responding, I pull a card from my back pocket. I stare down at it and glide my thumb along the raised print. “Listen, I found a doctor. I did a lot of research, and she’s the best at what she does. I think Eva should talk to her. Do you think you can get her to go?”

  Jace flicks his fingers at me, motioning for me to pass it to him. He examines it, before asking in a low voice. “You did this? After how she treated you?”

  “I love her, man. And she needs help.”

  Jace’s eyes mist as he stares at me, seeming to see more inside of me now that the anger is dissipating. He clears his throat. “I’ll make sure she goes.”

  I relax with relief. “Thank you.” If I couldn’t help her, I hoped someone else could. “Please, keep me updated at least. Let me know how she’s doing.”

  “I will.”

  It was fucking killing me to stand along the sidelines and not know firsthand what was happening. To not hear her voice or feel her skin, comfort her when I knew she was falling apart. It was gutting me to not know what had happened to her, though inside I was sure I already did. How could I not? If I ever found out who the bastard was that took my angel, I’d end his life. Extinguish him, so help me God.

  I’d give anything for her. Any-fucking-thing. But I couldn’t do this. I wouldn’t survive it. I loved her, and as much as it was killing me, it was driving me. She lived in me—still. And it fucking hurt. Her life in me felt like death. And maybe it would be the death of me.

  Because I felt like I couldn’t fucking breathe.

  MY FIRST DOCTOR’S appointment was supposed to be this afternoon.

  I didn’t go.

  I wasn’t ready to air my shit, and certainly not to a stranger. The encounter with Blake had left me shaken and confused. Even though I knew he’d be in class and I’d have to face him eventually, I wasn’t prepared for the turmoil it would wreak within me.

  The pity I’d heard in his voice hurt worst of all. It was a new sound. He’d never had that before. I don’t think he’d ever really grasped the extent of my fucked-up-ness. Well, he had a front row seat this time, and there was no coming back from any of this.

  I couldn’t handle being around him. I didn’t know what to do about that. I’d worked too hard to get into this school and establish my grades. I couldn’t withdraw. I needed to find a way to co-exist, but . . . how? How?

  I expelled a heavy breath, pulling open the door to The Backdoor. I hadn’t seen Rick since the incident, and it was time to face the next set of my fuck-ups. Tears welled in my eyes at the sight of his back as he counted the money in the register. Much like the first time I’d walked into this place, his head bobbed to a beat, this time from the eighties, and seeing him rock out built warmth in my heart. But I would need more than music to help the jittering knock in my chest right now. Seeing him so carefree, enjoying the music he loved so much made me realize the extent of how much I cared for him. How much I appreciated the way he’d welcomed me into his home and made me feel like family. My conscience sunk with revulsion, looking down at me for my poor judgements and what I had done to this man and his place of business. I valued his opinion of me, and I hoped I hadn’t shot it to shit.

  “Hey.” I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, removing my coat with a prayer he would forgive me.r />
  His fingers stopped moving, and he tensed at my voice, sending a cringe over my skin. “Hi.” He didn’t look at me and my hopes sunk further. But I was prepared to grovel, to show him how sorry I truly was.

  “I’m, um, sorry I haven’t called.” I’d been a coward and texted him the other day, asking if I could be put back on the schedule. I nearly chewed my fingers off waiting for his reply, praying that I would get one. When he had responded to come in today, I wasn’t sure if I felt relief or dread, knowing I would have to face the music for what I had done.

  “You left this place in quite a state, Eva.”

  The sharpness of his tone stabbed me in the heart. Rick was such a happy guy most of the time that I’d forgotten he even had a bone in his body capable of anger. The fact that it was being directed at me crept some extra pain into my heart.

  “You’re lucky you’re back at all. I warned you about that when we first met.”

  “I know.” Shit. I gulped, hating myself for trampling all over his kindness. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. I didn’t mean to disrespect you, Rick. You know how much I love this place. And you.” I placed my hand on his forearm, wishing he would forgive me. The warmth of his skin did nothing to thaw the chill I felt at his cold shoulder.

  The force of him slamming the drawer shut ricocheted through me. He turned to face me, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Do you? Because I don’t make a habit of giving people a key to my home.” He narrowed his eyes at me, distrust and anger laced through their narrowing glare.

  I hated seeing the easy-going Rick this way. He was always so warm and inviting. I wanted to grab my things and run out of here, but I owed him an explanation. He had trusted me, given me a chance, and I’d let him down.

  “Rick, you’ll never know how sorry I am. I’m sure you can tell I have some . . . issues.” I downplayed a little, not ready to fully lay all of my cards on the table. “But I never want that to be your problem. I should’ve thought better—not come here, but I didn’t know where else to go. I just wasn’t thinking, I—” My voice wept, a sting slicing through the pull of my eyebrows. “It’ll never happen again. I swear it.” I palmed my heart. “But if you want me to leave—” My shoulders sagged as I began to turn.