Just Like Breathing (Bring Me Back Book 1)

by Diana Gardin

  11

  Arden

  November 6, 2017

  The ceiling above me comes into focus, and I shift my gaze to scan my dark bedroom. Reaching out, I pluck my phone off my nightstand and check the time: 11:24PM.

  Blinking rapidly, I suck in a couple of breaths, none of them deep enough to refill my deprived lungs. In a matter of moments, I’ll be reliving the very worst day of my life. The day I lost everything.

  In a matter of moments, it’ll be the one-year anniversary of when I lost my husband and my son. And I thought, all day long, that I was prepared.

  I was so very wrong.

  This morning, I ran with Flash. I was distracted, allowing Nitro to pick up my guiding slack when usually, I’m right on top of things when we run together. I take the job he’s giving me seriously, and he knows that.

  When Flash asked me what was wrong, what was on my mind, I feigned ignorance, telling him that I was just tired. I know that our pledge of friendship says that we open up to each other, but this?

  It feels too raw, too real. The last thing I want to do is bring Flash down into the trenches of this ugliness with me. This grief, this remembrance, this horrible, tragic sense of loss that I still feel a year later is going to eat me alive.

  Especially tomorrow.

  And I don’t want him anywhere near it.

  I haven’t given Flash any sort of clue as to how screwed up I am, thanks to the loss I experienced exactly a year ago. We’ve grown closer, especially since Halloween, but I just don’t know how to drop that kind of bomb on someone. I’ve never had to tell anyone before. Anyone who’s close to mealready knows.

  Telling Flash would be a step forward, a sort of acceptance that I’m not yet ready to take.

  Telling him I wasn’t feeling well after our run, I set up the text I sent him earlier tonight. That I’m still not feeling well, and I need tomorrow off.

  It should be like any other Monday.

  But for me? It feels like I won’t make it through the night, much less the entire day, where I slept while the ones I loved the most in this world lost their lives.

  My body flips from lying on one side to the other, as my mind fights to keep a firm grasp on reality, rather than melting back into the memories that threaten to pull me under.

  Trenton. Easy smile. Driven personality. Die-hard fan of the Falcons. Lover. Fierce protector. Love of my life.

  I twist and turn, my limbs creating a ball of unrest in my sheets.

  Danté. Angel face set in blond hair and blue eyes. Laughter that bubbled up from his tiny, loving heart. Little hands that squeezed my face when he kissed me. The son I’ll never go a day without missing.

  My soul thrashes, rebelling against the loss of two human beings I never even considered living without.

  Finally giving up on sleep, I throw my feet over the side of the bed and stand on wobbly legs. My thoughts in a full-on frenzy, I drift from my bedroom, the one I shared with Trenton, down the upstairs hallway, until I reach the last door on the left.

  Opening the door I keep shut all of the time, Danté’s room greets me in the dark, like a long-lost friend. I don’t bother to turn on the light, the moonlit shadows streaming in through the window more than enough to help me see a space I know by heart.

  Walking straight over to the toddler-sized bed in a room where I’ve changed nothing, I grab hold of Ell, the stuffed elephant my son carried with him everywhere. When I found Bear sitting in a chair in my hospital room, I broke down and stroked the soft, brown fur coated with my tears of loss and grief.

  I do the same now, curled into a ball in the middle of the light blue rug covering the floor.

  I weep, because exactly a year ago, I lost my whole world.

  I weep because there’s a part of me, deep down inside, that wants to break free of this prison where I’m still trapped. The one where I’m locked away, spending each and every day drowning in my losses, instead of living my life.

  I weep because I don’t know how to open the lock that will truly set me free.

  “Hello?”

  When Flash’s voice rumbles across the line, it’s deeper than normal and husky with sleep.

  As soon as I hear it, I pull in the first deep breath I’ve taken in an hour.

  “F-Flash?”

  There’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is instantly more alert. “Bunny? That you? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  The intensity in his voice that I’ve come to know so well, the concern bleeding through from the other end of the line, draws a fresh batch of sobs from me. “I…Flash. I can’t…”

  Unable to get a sentence out, I trail away, helpless to communicate what I need or how I’m feeling.

  Deep down in the recess of my mind, I realize that Flash could think I’m an insane person and hang up the phone.

  Who do you think you are, calling this man at one-AM? He said you could be friends, but this is pushing it. Why didn’t you call Brantley?

  I can’t even explain to myself why Brantley wasn’t my first call. Maybe it’s the fact that there’s finally someone else I trust enough to turn to when I’m falling apart. Honestly, Flash was the first person my fumbling fingers found when I picked up my phone. It wasn’t thought-out; it was instinctual.

  “Are you at home?” There’s a note of urgency in Flash’s voice now, and I suck in a shaky breath, trying to get myself under control so I don’t worry him any more than I already have.

  But the air doesn’t even reach my lungs, and oh God, I feel like I’m splitting apart.

  “Y-yes.”

  “Are you safe, Arden? Is anyone there with you?”

  He thinks I’m in trouble. Shit, shit, shit.

  The words burst from my chest. “I’m alone, Flash. I…I need you.”

  His voice shifts, like he’s moving around on the other end. “You got me, sweetheart. I’m here. I want you to text me your address, all right? Just hold on, and I’ll be there soon.”

  I do just that, holding onto his words, even after I’ve texted him the address, and sit, surrounded by memories and pain, clutching the phone to my chest like a lifeline.

  From where I lay curled up, the front door seems so far away, so I’m glad I had the afterthought at the end of my text to tell Flash where to find the spare key I keep taped to the bottom of a rock on the porch.

  His voice, coming from downstairs, breaks through the haze of my sadness.

  “Bunny? Call out to me, sweetheart. Let Nitro and I come find you.”

  My sobs have subsided, leaving me weak and limp and thankfully numb. I raise my voice without lifting my head. “I’m here…upstairs.”

  It’s only moments later when Nitro’s wet nose nudges my side. Then Flash’s hands are on me, locating my position, before strong arms pull me against a warm chest. He settles against the wall, pulling me with him, and Nitro’s heavy weight leans against my hip as he curls onto the plush carpet beside us.

  The rough pad of Flash’s thumb strokes my damp cheek. “Jesus, Bunny. You scared the shit out of me. I’m here. You can talk to me, or I can just hold you. But I’m not leaving you…not like this.”

  Does he think I’ll argue? I want him here. Something about Flash’s presence tethers me to this time and place. I’m afraid that without him here with me, I’ll fade away into the memories that haunt me. I just lay there, my eyes open and staring at nothing. Time ticks by slowly, each passing minute blending into the one before it—until Flash’s warm chest, the sound of his heart beating steadily against my cheek, the strong, masculine scent of him soaking into my skin all become a part of me.

  Finally, I take a breath; the first real breath I’ve taken in hours. And then I take another, gathering strength and courage from his presence alone. It wouldn’t be fair…asking him to help me, letting him come here in the middle of the night…without sharing my soul with him.

  He’s earned at least that.

  “I can talk. This…room? It’s a bedroom.
It belonged to my son.”

  The words…the ones I haven’t spoken to anyone outside of my closest family and friends since the day I woke up? They just tumble out of my mouth like raindrops from clouds. And I know, after tonight, everything between Flash and I will change.

  There’s no turning back.

  12

  Flash

  When her voice came across the line sounding so broken and lost, something inside me shriveled up and died. There was no question I’d go to her; it was only a matter of finding out where she was and how fast I could get there.

  When she curled into my arms and settled in right here, I almost felt guilty for the quick flash of comfort, of physical awareness, of feeling like she was finally exactly where she belonged.

  But when she mentioned the fact that she had a son, in the past tense? It fucking crushed me.

  I swallow down the taste of my own bitter pain, somehow twisted up so completely with hers, and stroke a hand down the bare skin of her arm. I think I’m shaking, but I don’t let it stop me from touching her. She needs the comfort right now, and I’ll be damned if I’m anything but all the way there for her.

  Fuck me, though. A son? She lost a fucking child?

  I stay silent, waiting for her to continue, while on the inside, my soul riots.

  Up, down. Up, down. My hand stays steady on her arm.

  “Your son?” The words taste rough and wrong leaving my mouth. “I didn’t know you had a son.”

  It makes sense. The haunted sound always there in her voice, the way she drifts through life like someone only half-living it. I always knew she was someone who’d experienced loss, real loss. I just never knew to what extent.

  I feel the motion of her head against my chest as she nods. “My son was three when he…” She takes a deep breath, one that makes her whole body shudder. “When he died.”

  There’s a monotonous quality to her voice now, like she’s completely taken herself out of her emotions so she can make it through her story.

  “Listen, sweetheart…you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to tell me unless you want to.”

  I know that I need her to tell me. I need to understand this woman. I need to know what makes her the person she is today. I need to know how deep her scars run.

  But do I want to know this? Do I want to know the story that broke her? Fuck, no. I don’t want to know any of it.

  She continues like I hadn’t spoken. “We were all in the car. Danté, my little boy, and my husband, Trenton, and I.”

  My whole body goes cold at the mention of a husband, and my hand stills on her arm.

  Husband. Arden has a husband.

  The word echoes in my head, over and over again, mocking all the impure thoughts I’ve had about this woman in the past few months.

  “Trenton traveled for work a lot, so Danté and I were taking him to the airport the morning it happened. I was driving…my son had asthma. He started having an attack in the backseat, and suddenly, the only thing I could think about was getting him to breathe again. I told Trenton to get to his inhaler, which I’d accidentally left in the trunk. Trenton unbuckled his seatbelt—” She chokes on the words, coming to an abrupt halt in her story.

  My hand returns to stroking her skin, moving from her arm up to her shoulder and then to her hair. Mentally shaking myself, I focus on her. Nothing else matters right now, other than the fact that she’s hurting, and she needs me.

  It occurs to me, for the first time, that she called me tonight. Not Brantley. It’s significant; I know that it means something.

  I’m just not sure what.

  “Everything was happening so fast, and I kept glancing back to make sure Danté was all right. I didn’t see the car swerve in front of me until it was too late. We were on the interstate, there were a lot of cars…” She trails off, and I just wait, holding her a little closer to my chest.

  Holding my breath and wishing what she’s about to say wasn’t true.

  Finally, she continues, her voice hollow and lost. “After the accident, I was in a coma. When I woke up, months later, my entire world was gone. They both died that day. I never even got to go to their funerals, say goodbye. They were just…gone.”

  “Jesus.” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it, because…Jesus fucking Christ.

  When I first woke up from my accident and everything was black, I thought I’d lost everything. But the woman in front of me lost literally everything. Maybe not her business, or the security of a home and an income, but she lost the two people she loved most in the world.

  I can only imagine what kind of wife and mother Arden must have been. She would have given herself completely to her husband and her son. Body and soul, heart on her sleeve. And to lose them that way, in an instant? Waking up to find out that they were no longer living, dead and buried, without even the chance to say goodbye?

  It answers every question I ever had about this woman. I thought I was dealing with someone who’d been through some pain in her life.

  I was wrong.

  I’m dealing with a woman who’s had her soul destroyed.

  She stirs from her place in my lap, and I feel her head shift and tilt, like she’s looking up at me.

  “I don’t know why this happened,” she says, her voice soft. “I’ll never understand why they were taken away from me, Flash. Was there some kind of lesson in all of this that I’m supposed to learn? If there is, I never wanted to learn it.”

  Finding the curve of her cheek with one hand, I stroke her soft skin with my thumb, only to find it wet with her tears. Wishing more than anything that I could see her, I aim my blank gaze down at her face.

  “We don’t ever get to know the why, Bunny.” Her soft, tortured sigh pulls more words from me; words I didn’t plan on saying. “There’s a plan, and people live out their part of it. When their part is over, it’s time for them to go. For some of us, it doesn’t give us any comfort knowing that. But for me…it helps to know that there’s someone up there pulling the strings. I can let it go, knowing it’s out of my control. I try to live as fully as I can while I’m here, and love the people who are important to me while I have them. It’s all we can do.”

  She’s silent, her breaths steady as her chest rises and falls.

  Finally, she speaks. “I’m tired of being sad, you know? But any time I’m not sad, I feel so guilty. It’s not fair that I should get to have good moments, not without them. And how do I know if they’re happy, wherever they are? If they’re not, and I’m down here, smiling…” She trails off, but I know exactly where her mind is going.

  “They’re happy.” My words are decisive, firm. “They got to share the lives they had with you, and now they’re together. They’re happy…they’re just waiting for you to start living again. It’s what they want. You need to trust me on that, Bunny.”

  She doesn’t respond. Instead, she turns toward me and rests her forehead against my shoulder. My arms instantly circle her, pulling her close. It’s like I’m worried that if I’m not holding her up, she’ll fall apart. And I’ll be damned if I let that happen.

  “I’m tired.” Her words float on a soft sigh. Her voice is drained of everything: emotion, inflection, volume.

  “Hold on to me.” My voice is steady as I brace myself against the wall with one hand, gripping her firmly to my front with the other while I stand. She obediently wraps her arms around my neck and her legs encircle my waist.

  Its been a long time since I’ve carried a woman. And I’ve never done it blind. Even though finding my balance is an adjustment, I’m doing this for her. She needs me right now, if for nothing but my strength. And I’ll be that for her.

  “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” I whisper in her ear where her head rests in the crook of my neck. “Now, grab hold of Nitro’s harness for me—that’s it—and let him lead us to your bedroom. Good girl.”

  I’m counting on Nitro to get us to where we need to go, because I know I can get Arden safely
to her bed.

  We pass through another doorway, Arden clinging to my front like a koala bear on a tree.

  “Bed.” My command for Nitro is short and sweet, and he leads us forward, stopping directly in front of her bed. I gently place her down on top of it, then proceed to walk around the perimeter of the furniture, feeling my way with one hand. It’s a four-poster bed, king-sized from the feel of it. It’s high, and probably pretty fucking gorgeous if the solid woodwork is any indication. The house, with the high ceilings that I can feel from the echo of my voice, and the size that I could envision from the walk from the front door up the long staircase and into the upstairs hall. It’s bigger than my place, and suddenly I hate the thought of her rattling around in this house all by herself every day.

  This is where she’s been staying since she woke up from her coma? Being reminded every day of how much she lost?

  Returning to the side of the bed where she lies, I find her bare arm with my hand and stroke upward. Drawing the blankets up on top of her, I bend to drop a kiss on her forehead. When I move to pull away, her arm shoots out to grip my hand tightly in hers.

  “Don’t leave me, Flash. I…I don’t want to be alone tonight. I can’t.”

  The slight tremor in her voice would have drawn me in regardless, but I had no intention of leaving her alone. Not now…not like this.

  Instead of retreating to find a chair to settle into for the night while I watch over her, I walk to the other side of the bed and pull my shirt off over my head. Shoving my gym shorts over my hips and stepping out of them, I climb in behind her, pulling her slim, tight body flush against my chest, I let one arm fall across the curve of her waist. She sighs.

  “Not leaving you, Arden. I’ll be right here, for as long as you need me.”

  She doesn’t say anything else, but the deep sigh that moves her chest after my words lets me know that she heard me; understands that I’m not leaving her.