Breathe You (Pieces of Broken Book 2) Read online

  I repeat the words over and over as I walk with purpose down the stairs.

  Abby’s voice floats through the entryway to the kitchen. “Oh my gosh, mom, did you hear?”

  I slip into the room just in time to witness my mom barely look up from whipping her mashed potatoes. “Hear what, baby?”

  “Cammie called before and said that Maggie isn’t coming back to school.”

  “Oh, that,” my mom sighs. “Yes, her mom called me. Such a shame, she had so much going for her.”

  “What happened?” Damon asks, his voice startling me. He’s here. I jump back and brush against a far wall, trying not to draw attention to myself. Telling them what had happened between Damon and me would have to wait, but now I’m stuck here because it will draw attention if I leave too soon.

  “You remember Seth who was in our Chem class last year?” Abby asks Damon.

  “Yeah, what about him?”

  “Well, apparently, he and Maggie were at a party or something and one thing led to another, and they slept with each other. He says it was consensual, but she’s saying that he raped her.”

  My face tightens, flushing in a hot wave as my stomach knots into a ball. I clutch at it, praying no one notices.

  “I feel so bad for them,” my mom adds. “I mean, I know her mother said she had trouble with her sneaking out and telling lies and whatnot a couple of years ago, but this is much more serious. As much as I don’t want her to have gone through that and for it to be true, I do hope she’s not trying to tarnish that boy’s reputation to save her own skin.”

  My knees almost give out, and the room begins to swim around me.

  “Do you see how she dresses?” Abby exclaims.

  Forgetting they aren’t talking about me, my eyes drift down to the sweatshirt I’m wearing. I’m relieved briefly, but then I quickly remember the lower cut shirt I wore the day Damon had come into my room, before Abby’s voice cuts in again.

  “I’m always staring, waiting for a boob to pop out the top of her shirt. I mean, no wonder . . .”

  “Now, Abby, that’s not fair to say. If what she’s saying is true, it’s very serious. Her wardrobe doesn’t mean anyone has the right to touch her without her consent.”

  Her consent. I said yes. Damon’s words of being a tease slam into me, and I swear I almost fall from the impact.

  Damon sends me a side-eye. “So many girls want it and then when people find out that they’re sleeping around, they switch up the story. It’s disgusting if you ask me. They’re just liars, and they have no concern for what it will do to the guy’s life. Or how bad it makes them look.”

  I shrink against the wall, my heart sinking into the paint with its loss of hope.

  “Well, I for one am more than grateful that my Abby found you. At least I know you’re a gentleman and won’t hurt my baby girl.” My mom’s smile practically touches her ears.

  “Never.” Damon slides an arm around Abby’s neck, pulling her in to kiss her cheek. “Your daughter’s chastity belt is safe with me.”

  “Damon!” My mom laughs, flinging a kitchen cloth at him.

  “What?” He chuckles, ducking to the side. “Am I lying?” He directs the question at Abby.

  “Not lying. This guy is the perfect gentleman. I’m the luckiest girl in the world.” She beams.

  “Now, I just have to be sure my Eva gets just as lucky.” My mom’s eyes slide to find mine, but she doesn’t focus enough to see the tears begin to cloud my vision before she turns back to dinner.

  “Eva, now she’s the one you have to worry about. She’s the flirty type. Aren’t you, beautiful?” Damon regards me, but the ringing in my ears nearly drowns out his voice.

  My tongue is trapped to the roof of my mouth, prohibiting a response.

  “Leave her alone, Damon.” Abby swats at him, but she never takes her eyes off him. It’s like I’m not even here. Like all they see is him. All they hear.

  Where’s my voice?

  As Damon kisses the top of Abby’s head, his eyes find mine once again, a sliver of a smile slithering into her scalp, the happiness bright in his brown irises. Any hope that I have of getting support from my family over what had happened flits out the window. They would believe him. And I would be deemed a slut. An outcast. I’m not sure which would be worse. Holding all of this in and dealing with it in silence, allowing it to rot my insides, or letting the truth out and wearing the scarlet letter brightly for the world to see. To scrutinize. To call me a liar. To say I wanted it. Asked for it.

  You did ask for it.

  That fact lodges in my throat and I know if I stand here any longer I’ll break down in front of them. They go back to their discussions as I flee from the room, covering my ears so I can’t hear any more of it, taking the stairs in clumps at a time to get as far away from them and that topic as quickly as possible. My mind is made up. My questions answered.

  I slam my back against my bedroom door, shutting myself inside. Shutting all of it inside. For good.

  With a groan, I sat up and swung my legs off the side of the bed. The engagement party was set for the end of spring, and the wedding wouldn’t be for a year after that. That gave me about a year and a half to find a way to break them up. I could do that. I hoped.

  All of the physical marks Damon had left were gone now, but I saw each one of them as though they still lined my skin. I rubbed my upper arms as I stood, making my way to the window in my living room. The sun was fully awake, and although I had gotten home from my shift only hours before, so was I. My forehead dropped to the glass, and I peered down at all the tiny things passing by, the seemingly muteness of the busy city below. Then my gaze fell to an empty pot of dirt on the balcony. The one Blake had left, which used to house his forget-me-nots.

  Technically, according to him, they were still in there and wouldn’t die. They’d regrow in the spring and get a second chance at life.

  Second chances.

  Could we have a second chance?

  I wanted so badly to believe we could, but I knew I wouldn’t let myself go there again. If I loved him as much as I knew I did, I needed to let him go. To heal myself of this somehow and let him heal himself—of me. Rid himself of my toxic-ness. But it was so damn hard to live without a piece of yourself. For your heart to beat without its drum.

  Live me.

  I crushed my forehead against the glass and banged it once, twice, three times, wondering when those words would go away. I still felt him inside me. Knew that I had, in fact, been living him all along. Even now, in his absence, a sense of him still lingered in my pores, danced beneath my skin, and traveled through my veins. I wondered for the millionth time if he still felt me inside the same way that I did him. And then I reminded myself how selfish that was of me.

  He needed his freedom, and so did I. I needed to be free of this burden. I wished I was able to do that, get it out. Instead, it was festering, killing me from the inside.

  I dropped to the couch and tucked my knees under my chin, ready to contemplate how I got here when just a few short weeks ago my life had been the picture of perfection—perfect guy, good grades, seeing my family again, and making close friends.

  My phone rang, startling me from my thoughts. I was greeted with Abby’s name across the screen. No more blowing her off. It was time to face the music.

  I dragged my lower lip between my teeth, closed my eyes, and slid my thumb across the screen to answer the call. “Hello.”

  “Wow, Eva. Are you really answering right now?” Disbelieving sarcasm dripped heavy from each word. “Should I tell Mom to call off the dogs, or will you be going back into hiding after this?”

  “Stop it. It hasn’t been that long, and I’ve been emailing Mom.”

  “Nice to hear from you, too. I’ve been good. Thanks for asking.” She wasn’t even trying to hide the cynicism in her voice. “I thought we were past this. What the hell happened again?”

  Your psychotic fucking boyfriend happened. “Please do
n’t start. I’ve been busy. How’ve you been? How’s everything at home? Mom and Dad?”

  A knock sounded, and I glanced at the door, baffled. “Oh, you know, same ole, same ole,” she said as I made my way over, confused who it could be since Jace had a habit of just walking in unannounced and I wasn’t expecting anyone. I opened it warily. It was so early and no one ever just dropped by. Phone to her ear, Abby was standing there, right in front of me, with her eyebrow raised and her lips puckered in a cocky little grin.

  “Gotcha.” She smiled.

  My mouth fell open. “W-What’re you doing here?” I scanned to the left and right to be sure she was alone.

  “Hello to you, too.” She rolled her eyes. “Such a warm welcome. I’m overwhelmed.” She brushed past me and stood in my living room, hanging up her phone. “I knew if I wanted to see you it’d have to be a sneak attack, you little wench. I thought we were cool now, but then you went all clam on me again.”

  When the initial shock of being caught off-guard subsided, and the ease at seeing she was alone washed over, I took two long strides and grabbed her by her shoulders, pulling her to me in a tight hug. I sucked in the scent that was unique to my sister, roses with a hint of cotton candy. Abby. Last time I saw her, she’d looked like a distraught mess, but there was life in her eyes again. She looked content. That made me feel better.

  And it worried me at the same time.

  I took her fingers in mine, ignoring the rock perched on her left hand. Seeing her now formed a lump in my throat. I always forgot how much I missed my family until I saw them again. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

  “Believe it.” She squeezed back. “Now, show me your place, and then you can take me out for breakfast. I’m starving.” Her eyes widened as she finally looked around. “Wow.”

  “I know, right? I scored with this place. I love it.” My eyes trailed behind hers.

  I gave her the grand tour of my tiny, one bedroom apartment. In Manhattan, even a studio cost a fortune, so although it was small by real-world standards, it was a palace by ours. I was grateful my parents had foot the difference, or there’d be no way I could afford it. That was the price they were willing to pay to have me in a building with a doorman.

  She poked around in the living room while I dressed and gathered my thoughts. With the toothbrush hanging from my mouth, I stopped scrubbing my teeth and closed my eyes, collecting myself. This had to be it. It was my chance. We were alone—a rare occasion, and I needed to put a stop to this before she did something crazy and eloped or something.

  When I made my way back to her, Abby was staring out my window at the barren flower pot. She turned with her eyebrows screwed together. “What’s with the dirt-pot out on the balcony?”

  I rushed past her on a breeze, a dismissiveness in my tone that I didn’t want her to miss. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I swiped my jacket from the arm of the couch.

  Abby’s eyes widened. “Was that a Blake thing?”

  I glared at her before stuffing my arms into the sleeves of my jacket.

  Abby sobered. “So it’s true then? You guys broke up for real?”

  “Still don’t want to talk about it.” I snaked my hands between my hair and my neck, and freed my mane that was trapped in my jacket, then grabbed my keys. “Coming?”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she stuck her tongue in her cheek and popped her hip. Not feeding into her ‘you’re going to tell me now’ look, I spun on my heel. “Well, I’m going for breakfast. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like. If not, you can find your way out.” Sensing her jaw drop behind me, my lips quirked in a smirk. Served her right for meddling.

  “Eva?” Abby rushed behind me. “Talk to me.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. Now drop it before I drop you.” I kept a brisk pace.

  “Whoa, this is a sore topic, huh? You’re threatening violence and everything. What’s gotten into you?”

  I stopped short and turned abruptly to face her, forcing her to skid on her heel. “Please stop. Yes, it’s true. Blake and I broke up. For good. For real. Now if you don’t drop it, I’m really not going anywhere with you.”

  “Okay, okay. Jeez.”

  I gladly turned and pushed open the door, exiting the building. Squinting, I searched the street, trying to figure out where we should go eat. Then I remembered a small diner not far away, so I took off in that direction.

  “You’re not making this very enjoyable, I gotta tell you.” Abby struggled by my side.

  I slowed my stride, and my shoulders slackened, showing me just how tense I’d been. I turned to face her. “I’m sorry. You just keep hitting all my buttons.” She picked at the ends of her hair that draped from the braid over her right shoulder. “Truce?” I held my arms open for a hug.

  She stepped in and squeezed, looking at me through eyes that were identical to my own. “Truce.” We laced our fingers and finished the short walk.

  The bell chimed, and the smell of coffee flooded my senses, telling me how overdue it was in my system. I chose an out of the way booth and slid in so we could have the most private conversation of our lives. A pit solidified in my stomach, but despite that, we ordered our usual plethora of breakfast assortments. We never finished it, but we always ordered one of everything on the breakfast menu so we could have a bite of each.

  Oh, Abby. How am I going to tell you that most of your life has been a lie?

  The waitress set a steaming mug in front of each of us and, when she retreated, I curled my fingers around the warm porcelain and leaned into the table, staring at my sister who was color coordinating the sugar packets.

  “You still do that?”

  “Uh, yeah.” The octave of her voice rose as though she couldn’t believe I was questioning it. “You know I can’t sit at a table when the sugar packets are screaming at me to put them in order. It irks me, and then I can’t eat. I’ve tried to ignore it, but I’ve just accepted it now.”

  I gave a small, lost laugh as I continued studying her. “So, what’ve you been up to?”

  Her focus on the colored pouches broke. “Mom’s been on me to plan the engagement party, so I’ve been doing that. It would be super helpful to have the aid of my maid of honor, but, you know, she doesn’t like to answer the phone.” She raised an eyebrow at me, but it wasn’t a mean eyebrow. I could tell she was just messing with me still for ignoring her. “Speaking of which, you look like shit.”

  “Well, gee, thanks.” I fluffed the side of my hair sarcastically.

  “I’m serious.” Her hands dropped to the table, dismissing their task as she trained her eyes on me. “Should I be worried? You’re all frail-looking and pale, and your hair could use a fresh cut and the swipe of a highlight. How is Jace standing for this?” She took a sip of coffee.

  “He doesn’t hold my hand in public anymore.” I smiled softly, trying to look unaffected that my disarray was now outwardly showing. “But you shouldn’t be worried. I was sick for a while. Winter and all. I’m feeling better now,” I lied. I was feeling a million times worse. Unbeknownst to my beloved sister, her crush on Eric was what had gotten me into this situation in the first place. Damon seeing her drooling all over Blake’s best friend had set a fire in his ass, and the flames shot right out at me. Needing to change the topic, I cleared my throat and took a sip of coffee. “So, you and Damon then? You’ve been okay since . . . that day?” The day he came within inches of brutally raping me.

  She lowered her voice and looked down at the table, picking at the edge. “I don’t like to think about that day.”

  Me either.

  “Yes, he’s been on his best behavior. Holding my door open and kissing my feet and shit. He feels bad, and I’ve forgiven him. He was just drunk. He hasn’t had a drink since.”

  “Abby . . .” My words were stilled when the smell of bacon and syrup crawled up my nose as the waitress set a plate beneath it. I sat back momentarily and let her finish trying to find room on the ta
ble for all the breakfast we’d ordered. But now any hopes I’d had of eating were long gone, and the smell was only making me nauseous.

  Abby didn’t waste any time digging in. She was buttering an English muffin with zeal when I dug up something from deep inside, threw caution to the wind, and decided to start this long-dreaded conversation. “Abby . . . What if Damon wasn’t just drunk?”

  Her knife stopped, and grease hung from her fingertips. She seemed to consider it for a moment, but the deep pucker between her eyes gave away her confusion. “What do you mean?” She grabbed a jelly packet and peeled back the top.

  My voice was small, uncertain. “I mean, what if that was the first sign that Damon can’t be trusted? That maybe he’s not a very good person?”

  Abby scoffed. “Oh, please. Do you realize who we’re talking about? It’s Damon, Eva. The most untrustworthy thing he’s ever done is use his dad’s company’s postage.” She chuckled through pounding a ketchup bottle, ensuring it would pour out quickly.

  That was a punch to my guts. I fisted the shirt over my belly and pressed on. “What if you’re wrong?”

  She poured syrup over her pancakes and made a slice. “I’m not wrong. The guy’s all bark, no bite.” She sunk her teeth into a fluffy bite to accentuate.

  Oh, he bites all right.

  I leveled my gaze, trying to remain undeterred, though my confidence was waning. “Abby, what if I told you that he’s already hurt someone?”

  “Yeah, okay.” She rolled her eyes and shrugged, still intent on consuming her meal. “I’d say you were crazy.”

  I swallowed hard. That was a bitter pill to swallow, but if I wanted to get through this, I’d have to force it down. Not knowing what was going to get her attention, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, despite the knocking in my chest. “What if I said he’s hurt me?”

  She looked up then, searching my face. “Are you saying that?”

  My mouth dried. It was now or never.

  I steadied my gaze, unwavering. “What if I was?”

  She studied me a moment before wagging her hand at me and laughing once again. “Good job, Eva. You almost had me.” She shoved a piece of melon in her mouth.