Reason to Breathe

I stood up to face him. “Thank you,” I whispered. I wrapped my arms around him and extended on my toes to find his lips. My lips brushed gently against his, lingering for a moment before slowly pulling away.

Evan had his arms around my waist, holding me against him. The music settled in around us and we found ourselves slowly moving to the soothing seductive voice.

“Are we dancing?” I questioned with a smile.

“I think we are,” Evan agreed with a slight nod of his head. “Is that bad?”

“No, just something else I’ve never done before,” I admitted. I laid my head under his chin, allowing him to sway me.

The delicate strums and smooth melodies were mesmerizing, adding to the enchantment of the flickering lights and the warmth of his body. I searched his face as he gazed down at me with a soft smile. My stomach fluttered and my head felt light, I was completely consumed by him.

“I love you,” I whispered – the words flowed effortlessly from my mouth.

Evan pulled me against him and pressed his lips to mine. The tender kiss soon turned urgent, sending electric charges throughout my body. His lips moved down my neck and his hands slid along my back under the sweater. I let out an excited breath as I ran my hands along his taught frame under his shirt. He pulled it up over his head. We separated long enough to allow him to drop it to the floor.

We were moving, still in our passionate exchange, in the direction of the room above the garage. I slid my sweater over my head and dropped it behind me. Evan stopped.

“Are you sure?” he questioned with a heavy breath, studying my face for a sign of doubt.

“Yes,” I said in a whispering sigh, pulling him toward me again. He eagerly accepted me. I kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned my pants. Evan caught my hands.

“Really, we don’t have to do this.”

“Evan, I love you. I want to. But if you don’t…” I started to zip my pants, and his hands caught mine again. We stood still for a second, staring at each other. Then he slid down my zipper and eased my pants over my hips. I stepped out of them and followed him into the room. He held me against his warm smooth skin before gently laying me on top of the comforter, his mouth trailing along my shoulders down to my stomach. He stood to remove his shoes and to slide off his pants.

I wrapped my leg around the back of his thigh as he eased himself over me. My mouth found his neck, and I traced my lips along his shoulder. Our frantic breaths revealed our excitement, as his fingers traced along my stomach, sending a thousand sparks shooting through my body.

Evan froze when the lights flashed through the front windows. My eyes widened in alarm, as I held my breath.

“Oh no,” he exclaimed, jumping up to investigate. He grabbed his pants and quickly stuffed each leg into them. I propped myself up on my elbows, watching in shock as he hopped to put his shoes back on.

“Stay here,” he instructed as he rushed out the door, closing it behind him.

“Evan, you up there?” I heard a guy’s voice yell a few minutes later. You have got to be kidding me! The distinct thump of footsteps climbed the stairs.

“Oh,” the voice exclaimed. “Are we interrupting something?”

A flood of light shone through the bottom of the closed door. I panicked. Someone was in the other room. My clothes were in the other room! I heard more footsteps and voices. I snuck off the bed and tiptoed to the closet to find something to throw on.

“No,” Evan replied uneasily. “Um, I was just cleaning up.”

“Had a good birthday, huh?” the voice asked with a laugh.

“Jared, what are you doing here?” Evan finally asked.

“Came here with a few of the guys to surprise you for your birthday. Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks,” Evan responded. Jared didn’t seem to notice the tension in his voice.

“Let’s turn on the music and play pool or something,” Jared suggested emphatically. “Get whatever you want to drink at the bar.”

“Sounds good,” one of the other voices agreed. “What’s with all the candles?”

“It’s from earlier,” Evan stated dismissively.

In the dim light, I made out a pair of jogging pants and a sweatshirt. I threw them on, folding the waistband of the oversized pants. The clothes hung off me, but it was better than being practically naked.

“I should bring these plates to the house,” Evan told the guys. “I’ll be right back.”

The room on the other side of the door erupted with the bellows of a punk rock band and the crashing of pool balls.

I sat on the bed, having no idea what to do. I knew that there was no way I was going out that door while they were still in the other room.

“Emma?” Evan whispered. I jumped at the sound of the voice coming from the floor. I leaned over the edge of the bed to find Evan peering up through an open trap door in the floor. He was standing on a fold-down ladder that led to the garage.

“You can come down this way. They won’t know,” Evan explained.

I carefully made my way down the ladder in my bare feet, with Evan waiting at the bottom. He replaced the floor panel before folding the ladder back up. Without saying anything, he grabbed my hand. I followed him out of the door into the cool moonlit night.

“I am so sorry,” he stressed while we walked in the damp grass of the field behind his house. “I had no idea he was coming.”

“It’s okay.”

“I hid your clothes in the closet before they came up. I promise to get them back to you.”

“I’m never going to see that sweater again, am I?”

“Well, maybe after it stops smelling like you,” he responded with a grin. Evan secured his arms around me. “We’ll have other moments, I promise. I’m not going anywhere… well, not without you.”

“I know.”

“Nice outfit,” Sara observed with a smile when I walked into her bedroom. “You have a story to share, that’s for sure.”

“How was your date with Tony?” I asked, trying to delay the inevitable conversation.

“Done,” Sara declared casually, with a slight shrug. “Is that a diamond around your neck? Em, start talking.”

I brushed over the more intimate scenes, much to Sara’s disappointment, and when I was done with my account of the evening, Sara erupted in laughter. I slowly joined in.

“I can’t believe you almost got caught your first time!” she exclaimed in-between fits of laughter.

“Shut up, Sara,” I laughed, throwing a pillow at her. “It wasn’t my first time. It didn’t happen.”

“You have the worst luck,” she bellowed, tears rolling down her cheeks.

38. Shattered

“You little tramp,” Carol muttered from behind me while I swept the kitchen floor. I spun around at the sound of her voice.

“What did you have to do to get that?” she demanded, reaching for the necklace. I backed away, out of her clutches. Her eyes widened with shock.

“You can’t honestly think he cares about you,” she jeered. “He probably had that from the last girl he screwed.”

The fire ignited within me as I stared in disgust at this pathetic woman.

“Shut up, Carol,” I shot back firmly, towering over her.

“What did you just say?” she demanded, with a ferocity that could have blown the house to pieces. Her hand connected with the side of my face with a rocking force. The broom reverberated off the floor.

I turned my head back toward her. The fire fed every muscle of my tensed body. I raised my fist.

“What, are you going to hit me?” she smirked. “Go ahead and hit me.”

My mind snapped back. I looked up at my clenched hand - appalled at what I was about to do. I pushed away the rage before it swallowed me.

“I have no idea why you’re so twisted, but I’m not you,” I spat. “You disgust me.”

Carol stared at me with contempt. My insides twisted, instantly regretting my cutting statement. Fear started overtaking the anger, and my body began to quiver.

She grabbed for my arm, and I shoved her off.

“You fucking bitch,” she grunted, coming at me with a force I wasn’t expecting but should have prepared for. She pushed my shoulders to slam me against the door, but I slipped on the broom at my feet. Glass shattered around me, and fire shot through my arm when my elbow crashed through a panel of the door.

I screamed in pain, the jagged edges slicing into me. I cradled my elbow against me. Blood ran between my fingers, dripping onto the floor. I continued to groan through clamped teeth with the shards digging into my flesh.

“What the hell is going on?!” George exclaimed, running up the stairs to the deck. He froze outside the door at the sight of the broken glass and me on the floor, soaked in blood. His eyes trailed up to Carol, and he stared at her in abhorrent shock.

“George,” she gasped, “it was an accident. She slipped, I swear.”

“Don’t just stand there,” he yelled. “Get her a towel.” Carol rushed to the bathroom, obeying his command.

George opened the door as much as he could with my collapsed body still in front of it, paralyzed with shock. He slipped through and bent down to examine the damage.

“I need to take you to the hospital,” he concluded. “There’s still glass in the cuts, and you probably need stitches.”

Warm tears slid down my face. George lifted me just as Carol was returning with a towel. Her eyes pleaded with George. He grabbed the towel from her without giving her a glance and carefully wrapped it around my arm to catch the flowing blood.

“George, I’m so sorry,” she whimpered.

“We’ll talk about this when I get back,” he snapped still unable to look at her. He opened the door for me, and I followed him to his truck wordlessly. He didn’t say anything either as he opened the passenger door. I climbed in, exhaling with an aggravated grunt as the movement forced the splinters in deeper.

The silence continued until we arrived at the hospital. We were admitted immediately and enclosed by curtains in the emergency room. The doctor examined the cuts before numbing the area to remove the glass and assess which cuts needed stitches.

I sat on the bed mindlessly listening to the chunks of glass cling as they hit the bottom of the metal bowl. I couldn’t stop the flowing tears that was dripping from my chin as much as I tried to swallow them away. I shivered when the doctor poked and examined the exposed tissue for additional slivers. I eventually surrendered to the nothingness while the needle pulled the torn skin together.

George tensed when the doctor asked me to explain how it happened. My lying had become more convincing over the past couple of months, so the story of slipping backward on the wet floor spilled out easily. I didn’t care if the doctor believed me, but he didn’t seem to doubt me. We were there several hours before we were finally on our way home.

“I’m going to take care of this,” George stated lowly during our drive home. “Just go to your room, and let me handle it, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered.