Barely Breathing

I knew it was Jonathan, but I was too focused on getting out of the icy water to look back. I clambered up on a small rock and then over to a bigger one, my jeans sliding down a bit as I crawled into the sun, shivering uncontrollably.

I pulled my knees into me and wrapped my arms around my chest, trying to control the convulsive tremors―waiting for the sun to warm me up.

Jonathan emerged from the water and pulled himself onto the rock next to me. I didn't acknowledge him, tucking my head into my arms. My muscles began to ache from shaking so hard.

"Whoa, that's frickin’ cold." I glanced over at him and realized he'd stripped down to a pair of black boxer briefs. I darted my eyes toward the water, my cheeks warming quickly. He didn't look as miserable as I did with his legs out in front of him, propped up with his arms behind him. "The sun feels good though."

I eased my legs out and realized my pants were the reason I was so cold, keeping the water pressed against my skin. "Can I borrow your knife?" I requested.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes. "Why? You going to stab me with it for making you jump?"

I smiled deviously, allowing him think I was contemplating it. Then I laughed lightly. "No."

"It's up with my jeans," he nodded. He didn't make any indication of getting up, so I stood and faltered my way back to the ledge, my heels catching on my sopping wet jeans with each step.

I picked up his jeans and found the black handled knife in the front pocket. I unfolded the blade and it snapped into place. I pulled the fabric from my skin and carefully stuck the tip through to make a hole, then began sawing around my thigh, letting the pant leg fall to my feet. I instantly felt better as the warm air soothed the goose bumps.

I crouched to slide the knife back in the jeans’ pocket, and my eyes drifted towards Jonathan lying on the boulder with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed, absorbing the sun―he appeared completely at peace. The muscles along his broad chest were relaxed, but the definition of his body was still evident, pressed against the stone. I quickly looked away and found myself inadvertently staring back over the ledge, at the water below.

I waited for the panic to set in. But it didn't. My heart beat harder, but it was adrenaline, not fear, that pumped through my veins. And it felt exhilarating.

I didn't give myself time to think before I leapt and braced for the cold that I knew awaited me. The thrill of the fall caught my breath before I was swallowed up by the heart-stopping water.

I let the adrenaline coarse through my body with a smile as I kicked toward the rocks―which was much easier in shorts. I picked a dry boulder and eased myself up, the warmth radiating through the hard surface and into my legs. I removed my shoes and socks and set them next to me.

I noticed Jonathan watching me with a comical grin.

"What?" I demanded impatiently.

"You're not afraid of heights."

"I know. You cured me, right?" my voice was heavy with sarcasm.

"Emma, your fear was never heights." I scrunched my eyes, not following. "What were you thinking when you were looking down at the water. What was going through your head?"

"That there was no way I was going to jump."

Jonathan chuckled. "Besides that."

"That I was going to―" I stopped. He saw it in my eyes as the unspoken words caused my heart to falter.

"Emma, what are you afraid of?" Jonathan asked again, studying my face.

"I'm afraid of dying," I breathed, hearing it out loud made my chest hurt and my eyes sting with tears. I blinked them away. Jonathan pressed his lips together and bowed his head.

The falls crashing into the pool in the distance filled the silence. Neither of us said a word. We both knew where this fear stemmed from, and I wasn't convinced there was anything that could be done about it. She was never going to let me feel safe again, even if she couldn't reach out and kill me.

33. Consequences

"Would you like a cherry on that?" the girl asked in a low flirtatious voice.

"No, that's okay," Jonathan answered, not fazed by her ogling.

I stifled a laugh as I sat on top of the picnic table with my feet on the bench, watching the entire transaction. Jonathan returned with the two sundaes in his hands, and I could hear giggling behind him. Two of the girls working the ice cream stand couldn’t keep their eyes off him, whispering and laughing as he walked away.

"You have a fan club," I teased, taking the sundae he offered to me. "They must recognize you from the ads."

"Funny," Jonathan returned with a sideways glance as he sat on the bench beside me.

"Or maybe they think you wet yourself," I laughed, nodding toward his jeans where his wet boxers seeped through.

He smirked. "That's probably it. You know you're going to leave a wet ass mark on the table when you get up, right?"

I leaned to the side to reveal the dark wood mark under my damp jeans. "Oh well."

"What time do you have practice today?" Jonathan asked before spooning in a mouthful of ice cream.

"Three-thirty," I told him after pulling the spoon out of my mouth.

"We'll head back after this."

It was the first time I'd thought about returning to Weslyn, and a swell of nerves enveloped me. I should've at least texted Evan before I left. My phone was in my car, so that wasn't possible now.

"Are you worried?" he asked, reading my tense expression.

"I have some explaining to do," I sighed.

"With Rachel? She won't even be home."

"No. With Evan," I explained glumly. "He's probably been freaking out all day since I didn't show up at school."

"Oh," Jonathan pursed his lips and nodded. "What are you going to say?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "The truth I guess."

"And he'll be okay with that? That you spent the day with me?" Jonathan appeared shocked.

"Why wouldn't he?" I responded, not at all concerned. "He trusts me, and it's not like you and I have a history or anything. I mean, we're... friends."

"Yeah," Jonathan smirked. "You're right. I guess I probably wouldn't be as okay with it if I were him. But I don't trust very easily either."

His last sentence echoed through my head, and it all suddenly became clear. "You have a hard time getting close to people, don't you?"

"Yeah," Jonathan answered, contemplating my question, "I suppose I do. No one really gets me, and I guess I'm afraid―" He froze. I waited for him to say it, knowing it was on the tip of his tongue. His stunned eyes slowly turned to stone and his jaw tightened. He wasn't going to say it.

Jonathan stood up and tossed his sundae in the trash before striding toward the motorcycle parked on the far end of the lot.

"Jonathan!" I called after him, but he didn't slow down. I threw my ice cream away and ran after him. "Jonathan!"

I caught up with him and grabbed his arm. "Jonathan, stop."

"We should get you back so you're not late," he said dryly.

"Look at me," I coaxed, still holding his arm as he kept his back to me. "Come on, please."

He took a deep breath and turned toward me with his eyes to the ground.

"You can tell me," I comforted. "Jonathan, what is it? What are you afraid of?"

"You know what I'm afraid of," he countered defensively.

"Did you?" I questioned in return. "I mean before now, did you know that's what it was?"

Jonathan raised his eyes to meet mine. They were soft again, but edged with pain. He shook his head. I realized my hand was still on his arm and I slid it down to his hand and squeezed it gently. He looked down at the gesture and smiled faintly before I let go.

Instead of stopping at the bike like I thought he would, he continued to the wooden fence that lined the parking lot and leaned against the top beam.

"It makes sense," he murmured, resting his hands on the wood on either side of him. "I mean, I haven't been in a real relationship since Sadie, not until Rachel―and that wasn't supposed to happen the way it did. I mean, it was never supposed to be a relationship. That's probably why we couldn't stay together after she told me she loved me. I couldn't do it."

"You didn't love her?"

He shook his head, lowering his eyes.

"What happened with Sadie?" I inquired cautiously.

Jonathan didn't raise his head. "I proposed to her toward the end of our junior year at Penn State."

My heart skipped a beat, not expecting this revelation. "She said no?" I probed when he stalled for a moment.

"She said yes." His dark eyes rose to find mine. The sadness trapped in them captured my breath. "Two weeks later, I walked in on her and another guy."

I didn't know what to say. But it was all making sense, the reason he couldn't get close to any one, and his need for a simple and predictable life. He feared loving someone and being hurt again. It explained the impenetrable confident façade that kept him at a distance.

"I lost my mother and brother. Sadie was the only one who knew how much it destroyed me. And after what she did to me… I never let anyone else in. I've never trusted anyone to get that close. Well, except..." Then he looked at me, and my cheeks reddened. "I mean, it's different," he corrected quickly, "You and I have this weird connection, it's not like..." He didn't finish.

"Of course," I finished for him, nodding adamantly. "We get each other. That's all."

"Right," he agreed with a crooked smile. "Well, it looks like we are pretty pathetic after all. We spent a gorgeous day dwelling on unconquerable fears. You're never going to want to do something with me again."

"Sure I will," I laughed. "As long as you don't try to cure me again."

"Done," he smiled in return. "Wait. Will the school call Rachel about where you were today? I don't want to make things worse for you with her. I know how she can be."

"I can handle her," I told him. "She's kind of avoiding me right now anyway."

"Why do you put up with it? I have to be honest, I don't really understand your relationship."

"Neither do I," I answered truthfully.

"Emma, has she ever said anything nice to you, you know, like she's proud of you or that she loves you for that matter?"

"I don't want to talk about her," I muttered, picking up the helmet. I was still confounded by all that I'd learned in the past twenty-four hours, and I preferred not to think about her until I had to. "We should get going so I'm not late for practice."

Jonathan nodded and picked up his helmet.

The closer we got to Weslyn, the harder it was to push away the questions that my mother had left unanswered. I still didn't understand what she meant when she said she didn't leave me with Carol and George. I was always told, and thought I remembered, that she shoved all of my things in a black garbage bag and dropped me off on their doorstep in the middle of the night. If she didn't do it, who did? And why didn't she come back for me?

That triggered Jonathan's question―did she ever tell me she loved me? It should've been easy enough to remember, being told I was loved, especially by my own mother. Mothers told their kids how much they loved them all the time. Even Carol would gush over Leyla and Jack with affection, letting them know they were loved.