Just Like Breathing (Bring Me Back Book 1)

by Diana Gardin

  It takes me much longer than she does to fall asleep, listening to the soft, even sound of her breaths while feeling the steady beat of her heat vibrating in my bones.

  Tonight, Arden Fontaine bared her soul. Her chest cracked open wide while she spilled her pain, her secrets, her sadness. I’m not stupid enough not to feel lucky. I’m the one she let it out with. And I’m the bastard who, despite the depth of the emotions she laid bare to me tonight, feels a twinge of longing and need somewhere deep and dark inside of me.

  When I wake up, my smart watch tells me it’s morning. Seven a.m. looks different behind the blackness of my sight than the nighttime does. It’s almost like I can sense the morning light, even if I can’t see it. It only takes a minute for me to remember where I am and who’s lying beside me. My left leg, clad only in my boxer-briefs, is sandwiched between two warm, bare thighs. My right hand is tangled in what feels like miles of long, silky hair while my left is full of a lush, soft breast.

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  Arden is wrapped around me like a snake on a vine, her skin feeling so unbelievably perfect against mine it’s almost painful. No, it is painful; an ache rises in my cock as it throbs painfully against the ripe curve of her hip. It takes every ounce of control I have not to follow instinct and thrust against her.

  This woman…she’s going to be the goddamned end of me.

  My body doesn’t need reminding of the fact that even though I can’t see Arden, I find her insanely attractive. Gathering all the willpower I have inside me, I slide my hand away from her breast and bring it to rest on her hip. Purely out of habit, I close my eyes and inhale, sucking in a deep lungful of her sweet peach scent. The silk brush of her hair tickles my nose, and my fingers involuntarily twitch against her skin.

  Her breath still rises and falls in an even rhythm, my ears attuned to make up for the senses I’m missing.

  Thank fuck.

  The last thing she needs when she wakes up is to feel someone she trusted with her deepest, darkest secrets to grope her while she’s sleeping.

  Slowly, moving without a sound so I don’t wake her, I disentangle myself from her warm body. Reaching down to the floor beside the bed, I snap my fingers softly and am immediately greeted with Nitro licking my hand in response.

  I swing my legs around the side of the bed and realize that in this foreign house, I’m going to have to feel along walls and doorways in order to find the bathroom. I squeeze my eyes shut as the old familiar rage starts to build inside me.

  A normal man, a capable man, can get out of a woman’s bed the next morning and find his way to the goddamned bathroom on his own. A normal man could crawl out of bed and make his way out of her house on his own, without aid, if that’s what he wanted.

  But me? I’m not a normal man. And I never will be again.

  Frustration seethes inside me, reaching deep into my gut and twisting until I can barely breathe.

  It’s not a panic attack—it’s a rage attack, and Nitro’s soft whine from the floor beside me is enough to pull me back to the present.

  I’m pissed…still pissed as hell that I can’t see, that I’ll never be the completely self-sufficient man I always thought I’d be. But there’s nothing I can do about it right now…not a fucking thing. Giving Nitro’s head a pat, I lie back down on the bed beside Arden and take deep, soothing breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth.

  Beside me, I feel her stir. Hear the covers rustle as she turns over, and I count the beats as I picture her opening her eyes, scanning her room, and then turning her head to find me lying beside her.

  I go still, even my breath freezing inside my lungs.

  Seconds tick by before she speaks, and her words reach me at the same time her hand does. Her left hand wraps around my right, squeezing hard, as she says, “You’re really here.”

  I squeeze back. “Nowhere else I needed to be.”

  She takes a deep, shuddering breath. And at the sound of it, I can’t do anything else but turn and wrap her in my arms. This woman…she might be broken inside but somehow, I know those pieces are going to find their way back together again. And I’m going to be there, standing beside her when it happens. I don’t give a fuck if I have to glue each one of them into place my damn self.

  And along the way? Maybe I’ll figure out how to live as less of a man. Maybe if I help heal her, I’ll find that part of myself I lost the day I lost my vision.

  13

  Arden

  His hand feels so warm against mine. The rough brush of his skin against the softness of my own sends tingles of nerves shooting through my hand and up my arm.

  I still can’t believe he’s here with me…in my house. The house where I lost so much. Now, looking over at this man who dropped everything and somehow showed up here in the middle of the night, despite his limitations, just because I called him…something like hope blooms in my chest, even amidst the sorrow.

  I turn into Flash’s embrace, feeling the hard planes of his chest with my hand and allowing my head to fall into the soft spot between his shoulder and his chest. “I’ve never allowed anyone to come into that room with me. Not even B.”

  His breathing is steady and even, and he pauses for a beat before he asks, “Why?”

  My finger traces a path along the light dusting of hair along his pectoral muscles, and I swear I feel the muscles twitch beneath my touch. But I can’t allow myself to go there, because I’m nothing more than a hot mess to Flash. He can’t see me as anything more than a broken bird, someone who calls him in the middle of the night because I’m falling apart. If I were at the point in my life where I was looking for a man, it might be someone just like him. Someone who could understand my pain, help me move past it.

  I’m afraid, though, that I’ve shown him too much of my brokenness for anything to be possible between us, other than friendship. Still…my body hums in the warm cocoon of his.

  “Because it was mine. My place to go and remember…to mourn. And I visit that room every single day without fail. Every time I step across the threshold, a little piece of me shatters, and God, Flash…I’m so damn tired of breaking. It’s been a year since my baby’s been gone. A whole year since I lost the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with. And I’m still here. Just…existing. How is that fair? How am I supposed to keep living this way?”

  He’s quiet, listening, stroking my hair as I speak. He doesn’t offer words of comfort, because somehow, he knows there are none. But he’s there, wrapping me up tight. He doesn’t even try to urge me to move on with my life, try to forget about the people I’ve lost.

  No, Flash just…listens.

  I take a second to breathe, inhaling the windy, spicy scent of him. It surrounds me, making me feel stronger that I have in a very long time.

  I might have fallen apart last night, but this morning? This morning, I’m ready to start piecing myself back together again.

  “I’m here…and they’re not. I’ll never understand why. And if I’m being honest with myself, I think it’s going to hurt every day moving forward. I don’t think the pain is ever going to go away. I don’t even think I’d want it to, because that would mean I’m forgetting them. I... I don’t want to forget.”

  Flash’s lips brush my forehead and the spot warms me from the inside out. “No, sweetheart…no one expects you to forget. They’re part of you here”—he taps a gentle finger to my chest—“and you don’t ever want to forget that. The life you had with them? It made you the Arden that’s standing in front of me today. And baby…you’re damn strong.”

  Damn strong. Flash thinks I’m…strong? I thought I hadn’t shown him anything but weakness, vulnerability. Somehow, he’s interpreted all that I’ve shown him, all that I am…as strength.

  I tip my face up to meet his gaze. The gaze that’s no longer hidden behind the sunglasses he usually wears. It appears that he took them off to sleep, and I’m met with unseeing eyes of the deepest stormy gray that I’ve ever s
een.

  Flash’s eyes are breathtaking…and I’m stunned into silence by the sight of them.

  As soon as he realizes I’m staring, he averts his gaze, but I catch his face in both of my hands. “I laid myself open for you last night, Flash. Completely bare. Please don’t hide from me now. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to see all of you…and you’re beautiful.”

  An expression like agony flickers across his face. He grips my wrists and holds on tight. Leaning his forehead against mine, we both breathe the same air, share the same breaths. He doesn’t speak and neither do I. He doesn’t close the millimeters of distance between us and neither do I. Whatever is happening between us…this moment has gone beyond friendship.

  Deeper. Rooted in something painful and yet beautiful at the same time.

  When I speak, my lips brush against his, the slightest bit, and he shudders.

  “I…I’m ready to take a step. I need to box up their things. Find homes for the toys that Danté will never again play with. Find a place for the clothes he’ll never wear again.” My voice breaks, and Flash’s arms circle me more tightly, protectively. Almost fiercely.

  His lips brush mine as he answers. “Strong, Bunny. You’re damn strong. I’ll help.”

  I nod, staring into his eyes. His eyes. Beautiful, clear, as if untouched by the blindness that I know plagues him. You wouldn’t know just by looking into those cloudless eyes. Other than the unfocused haze, they’re perfect.

  Every plane on the front of our bodies touching, my curves melting into the hard lines of his strength. I don’t know how long we stay that way, but every second I remain plastered to the front of him is another moment I steal another little bit of his fortitude.

  Finally drawing back, breaking the intimate spell that existed between us, I glance down on the floor by the other side of the bed and find Nitro sitting on his haunches, staring up at us quizzically. With a chuckle, I check my phone laying on my bedside table. Seven-thirty a.m.

  “What time do you usually take Nitro out?”

  Flash glances down at his dog, as if he can see exactly where his companion sits. I’ve noticed more than once how connected the two are. I wonder if even Flash realizes the invisible tether that holds them together. It’s amazing to watch.

  “I’m up at five every morning.” He glances at me and a half-grin tugs his lips. “Well, most mornings. That’s when he usually goes out.”

  I whistle, turning and climbing out of bed. Last night, I never changed out of my t-shirt, and I pull on the sweatpants I discarded as I stand. “No wonder he’s shooting daggers at me. We’re over two hours late. And after he goes out, how about a tour of the house, so you can get acclimated?”

  Flash pauses, one muscular, bare leg out of my bed. I try hard not to eye that leg, and then give up as my eyes travel down the tight, coiled muscles and devour the corded, thick thigh. Before getting into bed last night, Flash shed his shirt. Sometime during the night, he must have lost his pants. Boxer briefs are all I have to greet me this morning, and…holy shit. His body is like a work of freaking art. Rippling, lean muscles for days. The kind that women ogle at in magazines or on book covers. The silver glint of his dog tags catches the light of the morning sun.

  “I was here for you last night because you needed me.” His voice is quiet, pensive. “But I don’t want to invade your space, Bunny. This…allowing me into your home, into your life…it’s going to take time. I get that. You don’t have to let me in all at once. Just as long as you let me in.”

  I make sure he can hear the smile in my voice as I answer him, like he hasn’t just spoken. “So, bathroom break for us and Nitro. Then breakfast. Then a tour of my house.”

  A smile, not a half-grin but a real, genuine smile, transforms his entire face. I almost stumble, mesmerized by the sight of it. “Okay, then. Lead the way, sweetheart.”

  An hour and a half later, I’m sprawled on my long, gray sectional couch, the plush fabric soft against my legs as my back melts against Flash’s bare chest. There’s a level of comfort between us now that wasn’t there before, and I breathe a soft sigh into the air above me as the silence stretches and pulls across the large, airy living room.

  My own house contrasts so starkly with Flash’s, and I eye the room appraisingly as we sit, comparing the two. Where Flash’s home was comfortable, it was also clean, modern lines and warm leather furniture; mine is traditional in décor. The white brick fireplace has a large wooden mantle, full of photos and knickknacks from the time I spent with my family. Every single day, Trenton and Danté’s faces smile back at me from that mantle, and I’ve often spent hours just standing there, looking at them. Wondering how it’s possible that they’re so alive in these photos and in my heart, but no longer with me in this life.

  I glance away from them, my movements sharp and jagged, and Flash’s arms tense around me.

  “What is it?”

  I shake my head, slowly rejecting the panic and impending emotional breakdown welling up inside me.

  Bubbling.

  Churning.

  I’m stronger than I’ve been behaving. I know that now, and yet…

  Flash moves under me, and in a second, we’re flipped so that he hovers over me, his eyes unseeing but somehow seeing everything. His big hands cradle my face, his warm breath brushing across my skin as his forehead kisses mine.

  “Breathe,” he whispers. “Just breathe.”

  And I do. I take one shaky breath, and then another.

  Another.

  Another.

  “It’s not…” I attempt to explain, my voice trembling. “It’s not that they’re gone. I think...I think that somehow last night I accepted that, finally. It’s that I’m looking around this room, and…you’re here…” A half-choked sob bursts from somewhere deep inside my chest, where everything is breaking, breaking, breaking.

  And yet the pieces are reforming, trying to find their way back together again.

  He pulls back a fraction, and I study the chiseled lines of his face. Broad, hard jaw roughened by dark stubble. A wide, sensuous mouth with the kind of lips capable of working miracles.

  He’s so beautiful it hurts, and it aches to even think such a thing. Is it too soon for me this feel this way about someone? When did Flash become more than just a running partner? When did he leap across the line of friend into something dangerously close to a word that feels foreign in my mind?

  “Bunny.” He forms the nickname slowly, as if making sure I’m understanding exactly what he’s about to say. “If me being here with you, in this space…if it’s too much, you need to tell me. I don’t want to leave you, not like this, but if it’s what you need me to do, then just say the word. This is your timeline, sweetheart, and I don’t want to make anything more difficult for you. God knows you’ve been through enough, and the last thing I want to do is add to the bullshit hand you’ve been dealt.”

  An incredulous laugh barks from me as I shake my head, grabbing hold of his wrists where his hands still cup my face.

  “It’s the opposite. I don’t want you to leave.” I gentle my voice, trying to slow my breathing and focus my thoughts. Trying to get this right. “With you here, I finally don’t…I don’t feel so alone. God, Flash, I’ve been so damn lost. I’ve been doing nothing but drowning, ever since I woke up from that coma. But last night, all I could think of when I was afraid it was all going to go black, all I could see was your face. You were like a lifeline, and I grabbed hold.”

  He swallows, the expression on his face going so soft, so completely full of understanding that my stomach knots and twists and flips inside me. “Use me, sweetheart. Use me as that lifeline any fucking time you need it. And until you say otherwise? I’m not going anywhere.”

  From the floor beside us, as if in agreement, Nitro lifts his head and lets out a swift short bark.

  Apparently, even though I have no clue how or where he fits into my life, Flash is here to stay.

  14

&nb
sp; Flash

  November 19, 2017

  I sink into the leather backseat of my Suburban, giving my driver, Brooks, Arden’s address.

  I hired Brooks soon after I left the hospital. He went to high school with my mother and father, and was a family friend then. I asked him to help me out because he was a veteran, and I knew how much he’d struggled since he left the military. He’s become not only my driver, but a trusted friend. He left his apartment and now stays in the guest house at the corner of my property.

  “Brooks,” I muse as we drive. “I’m pretty sure this woman’s going to be something special to me.”

  “Yeah?” I can hear the smile in Brooks’ voice. “How do you know?”

  “You know how they say, ‘when you know, you just know’?”

  “I’ve heard that before.” There’s a wryness to Brooks’ tone that makes me pause.

  “Why didn’t you ever get married, Brooks?” I press, hoping he’ll want to answer my question.

  There’s a pause. “I guess I never had that feeling. The knowing, I mean.”

  I nod. “Yeah. I hadn’t either. Not until I met Arden.”

  The ride to her house only takes a few minutes, and when I feel the big vehicle tug to a stop at what I know is the top of her long driveway, I open my door to climb out.

  “Stay,” I instruct Nitro, who I can only imagine rests his head sadly on his paws to wait for my return.

  Standing beside the car, I don’t even try to hide the grin that spreads across my face when the sound of her voice drifts toward me just after the sound of her front door clicking closed.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” she chides as her voice grows closer.

  I can feel her presence as it shifts toward me, smell her sweet peach scent as it rides on the cool breeze. God, my fingers itch to reach out and touch her, to grab her and pull her into my arms. And even though something definite and distinct has changed between us since that night at her house, we haven’t yet crossed that line. The line between friends and whatever else this is that’s growing between us. Eventually, it’s going to boil over and there’ll be no stopping it. My cock strains painfully against my jeans just because she’s close, my body reacting to her smell, her warmth, damn near everything about her.