Breathe Her In

by Gretchen Tubbs

  I push past the anger and the sick feeling in my gut when I get to the end of my story, where the bastard pulls a gun on me, stabs me twice, and we fight for control of the gun. I had no intention of killing him, but the gun went off and ended up shooting him in the chest.

  Miller stays silent for several minutes after I’m done.

  “Well?” I prompt when the silence becomes too much for me to take.

  “This is crazy.”

  “True, but I need to know if I have a fighting chance, Miller. I can’t go to prison for this.”

  He taps his pen against the pages of notes that are scattered across the table. “We can do this. I want to leave out everything about the drug dealing and the informing. Let’s focus on the molestation. I’ve put in for a warrant of his house. Hopefully the bastard has some evidence of his perversions somewhere. We can keep Dells out of this. There’re plenty of other witnesses that can testify.”

  “I don’t need you blowing smoke up my ass, Miller.”

  “I’m not. You just need to be patient and give me a little time to get my ducks in a row. I’m gonna get you out on bail so that you can be released to your house and not jail. You might want to think about staying at Claire’s. I don’t know if Della will be able to go back home, Rafe.” He gets up and pats me on the shoulder. “I’ve got a lot of work to do. Let me do the worrying, and you focus on getting yourself healed. I’ll be in touch.”

  Going over the story with Miller reminds me that Vega never showed that night, and that he might know that I was informing. So, I may not only be facing jail, but I could have a drug lord after me.

  “Did you find out anything about Vega?” I ask Doug.

  “Yeah, he never made it back from Mexico. My source said he was detained at the border. This is a good thing. I’ll make sure that word’s spread that you killed Ford and are out of commission. That should keep him from contacting you. Let my guys deal with Vega if he comes back to town.”

  At least that’s one less thing to worry about. I can’t be looking over my shoulder, worrying about him taking me out when I have this other shit to deal with.

  A week later, Miller and I sit at my kitchen table, horrific images of my sister spread out around us. I push away and walk to the window, unable to stomach what he’s showing me.

  “I know this is hard, but better to see them for the first time in the privacy of your home than in court.”

  My knuckles are turning white. If I hold the counter any tighter I just might break it. “I can’t believe the sick fucker had pictures.”

  “Pictures, videos, recordings. There’s no way a jury will convict you when they hear the testimonies and see all of this.”

  “Did we get a trial date yet?”

  “Jury’s been selected, and we go to court next week.”

  “Shit,” I mumble, a nervous wreck.

  “This is gonna be a breeze, man. It’s a cut and dry case.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m always right, Rafe,” he laughs, picking up the vile pictures and stuffing them back in the manila folder. I hope he burns them when this trial is over. Those should never see the light of day again. “I’m heading back home, but I’ll be here Sunday afternoon. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Will do.”

  “I know this is going in one ear and out the other, but try to relax. Della’s getting better every day. The bastard is dead. He can’t hurt her anymore.”

  I force myself to nod, and Miller walks out. I cross the room in a few long strides, locking up behind me. My headlights hit the ‘For Sale’ sign in the yard as I pull out of the driveway and head to Eleanor’s house.

  32. Eleanor

  “Put me down, Rafe. You’ll break your back!”

  “Please. You sayin’ I’m not man enough to carry you over the threshold?”

  “I’m as big as a house,” I tell him, my eyes moving to my belly, which seems to be getting bigger every day.

  “Hush and let me have this,” he says, kissing me gently as he carries me through the doorway to our new house.

  As soon as we’re inside he puts me down, never breaking the kiss. My hands drift up from his neck to his hair. He puts his hands on either side of my face, the cool bite of metal from his wedding band on my cheek causing me to smile through the kiss.

  “What?” he asks, pulling away slightly. His smile is huge. If I had to guess, mine is, too.

  “You’re my husband.”

  “I am. I told you as soon as everything was over I would put my ring on your finger and you’d have my last name.”

  “You did.”

  “Happy, baby?”

  “Ecstatic.”

  Despite everything that’s happened to us over the past few months, I’ve never been happier. Rafe is finally free and Della’s demons have been put to rest. Miller was perfection in the courtroom, painting Ford as the monster he was and portraying Rafe as a loving guardian who was just trying to protect his sister, girlfriend, and unborn child. The trial was hard to sit through, especially when the evidence from Ford’s house was shown, but it was quick to come to a close. Rafe was acquitted.

  That night, after getting Della settled into her bed at Claire’s house, Rafe and I walked hand in hand to our clearing in the park across the street. With the moon and stars as our witnesses, Rafe professed his love to me and slipped a simple diamond ring on my finger, asking me to be his wife. We held each other and cried, while I shouted ‘yes’ into the cool night air.

  “You’ve never been more beautiful,” Rafe whispers at my temple, pulling me back into the present. “You took my breath away when I saw you walking toward me at Gigi’s.”

  Chills erupt along my skin. “I can’t believe we’re finally married. I’ve been waiting for this forever.”

  “Eight years, but who’s counting?” He gives me another kiss. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”

  “Show me our room.”

  His eyes dance. “I can do that.”

  My husband leads me down the hallway of our new house and to the last door at the end of the space. He pushes it open and my breath hitches in my throat.

  “It’s beautiful.” Candles are everywhere, casting a beautiful glow on the flowers that are scattered across every surface possible.

  “Maggie’s quite the romantic,” he says.

  “She and Finn are far too generous.” I’m still reeling from the fact that they gave us a honeymoon to Ireland, to be used as soon as we can leave the baby. They go back and forth between here and there as much as possible, since Finn is part owner of several family businesses in Galway.

  “I don’t really want to talk about Finn and Maggie right now,” Rafe says as he slowly lowers the zipper on the back of my dress. His fingers graze the skin along my spine, and all thoughts of the O’Leary family fly out of my head. “I want to see what you’ve got for me under this.”

  He gets the zipper all the way down and pushes the dress off my body. “Turn around and let me look at you.” I follow my husband’s request and turn, the candlelight dancing along the white silk and lace that I’m wearing. He lets out a low whistle.

  “You like?”

  “I love.”

  With the gentlest touch he traces along the edge of the silk. I shudder under his touch. His finger dips under the lace outlining the bra, swiping across my nipple, and I let out a soft moan.

  “Why don’t we get you out of this?” he asks. His fingers perform several more swipes, rendering me speechless. I can only bite my lip and nod.

  His fingers lead the way, his mouth following, as he traces a path from the front of my bra, over my shoulder, and to the back to release the clasp and cast the scrap of fabric on the floor.

  “Now,” he says, kissing his way down my spine, making my knees weak. “What about these? Should I get rid of these, too?”

  His fingers dip into the elastic band of my panties and reach around the front, his lips still kissing the ba
se of my spine. His finger finds its way inside of me and I sag against my husband, whose laugh pushes against my skin.

  “You ready for me, Mrs. Matthews?”

  Hearing him call me that gets me even wetter. He adds another finger and I moan, unable to tell him that I’ve been ready since I heard him say, “I do.”

  He takes his hand away and I want to weep at the loss. Before I know what’s happening, the panties are gone and I’m wrapped in my husband’s arms. Using the utmost care, he lays me across the bed, positioning himself as close as he can, despite the fact that my growing belly is in the way. He pulls away after a few mind blowing kisses.

  “Care to make this marriage official?”

  “Yes,” I moan. His fingers are wreaking havoc on my body, bringing me close to the edge, drawing out the torture.

  “How many times do you think I can make you come tonight, baby?” He’s kissing his way down my body, stopping to nip and suck at all the right places, before his mouth joins his hands. “Any guesses?”

  His tongue hits my sensitive flesh, and I go off like a bomb, exploding. I swear, stars shoot off behind my eyelids.

  “That’s one, wife,” he says, all while I’m trembling from the aftermath of the orgasm.

  He kneels up, and I miss the feel of his flesh against mine instantly. I open my eyes and watch, fascinated, as my husband peels off the suit that he said his vows in earlier. “Hurry,” I whisper, but there’s really no need. He’s back between my legs before I can manage to get the word out. I cry out as he pushes into me, filling me up and causing the trembles to return. My whole body is tingling with delicious sensations.

  “I’m not gonna hurry tonight, Eleanor Matthews. I’m gonna take my time, savoring you, worshipping you, loving you. Over and over, until you can’t take it anymore.”

  His words, coupled with the perfection of his movements, cause another slow orgasm to roll through my body, starting at the base of my spine and shooting out to my fingers and toes.

  “That’s two, wife.”

  He rolls us to the side, raises my leg and pushes into me deeper, and I think that he just might kill me tonight.

  Rafe’s movements slow, and I kiss him with all the strength that I can muster after two mind blowing orgasms. He might kill me, but it’s certainly not a bad way to go.

  Epilogue

  “Here’s to having you back,” Laurel says, albeit a bit slurred. My friends and I clink glasses and toast my return. This is probably the third time we’ve done this since sitting here, but I don’t bother telling them that. I let them have their drunken fun.

  “Cheers.”

  I’m back at school, four years after my departure, and I couldn’t be more excited about it. We officially finished our first week today. Exhaustion is weighing me down, but it’s a good exhaustion. I take a sip of my water, wishing I could have a margarita like the rest of the girls, but the reason behind it is worth it.

  Rafe: You must be really thirsty.

  Me: ???

  Rafe: You said the girls wanted to have A drink. It’s been over two hours.

  Me: Lol. Miss me?

  Rafe: I wanna take you on a date.

  Me: Really?

  Rafe. Yep. Dinner and a hotel. Dec and Tommy are at home with the kids

  I do a quick sweep of the table, but my friends are too engrossed in a story about Bren’s latest man to be worried about me.

  Me: They have soccer first thing in the morning- we are not going to a hotel!

  Rafe: We only need it for about an hour.

  Me: I’m turning red!!!

  Rafe: Wait until I’m done with you

  Me: Are you drunk?!

  Rafe: I don’t need to be drunk to want my wife

  “Oh shit,” Caroline blurts out. I look up from my phone, face on fire, and see my friend reading my texts over my shoulder. “Nice to know that you can have a ton of kids and still sext with your husband.”

  “I wasn’t sexting!” I take a sip of water to try and alleviate the redness from my face. “And two and a half kids is not a ton.” I rub the small baby bump that’s just starting to be noticeable.

  “You were about to,” she laughs. “Listen to this, girls.”

  “Do I need my sunglasses?” Laurel asks.

  “No, but you might by the time they’re finished.”

  “Trust me, I’m finished. He’s joking.” Or, at least I think he’s joking. You can never tell with my husband. Time with him is a rarity these days. If we aren’t spending time with the kids, we’re putting in hours at his new gallery, where his artwork is selling like we never imagined. Things are great in the Matthews household, but time alone is seriously lacking.

  Caroline reads the texts aloud and they all scream about them. “No wonder you keep getting knocked up,” Bren says.

  I roll my eyes at my friend and hold up two fingers. “I’ve been pregnant twice.” I wince when right after the words leave my mouth. I’ve been pregnant three times, and even though it’s been almost twelve years, the sting from losing my first child is still there. My hand drifts to the flowers marking my skin, and the pinch in my heart eases up.

  “But, still. Keep that up and you’ll have your own soccer team.”

  “What time is the game tomorrow?” Makenna asks.

  “Della and Benson have games at eight. Thank God they’re at the same complex so I can watch them both play.”

  I can’t help the smile that takes over my face when I think about watching my son play in his first soccer game tomorrow. Della’s been playing for a few years, so he couldn’t wait to follow in his sister’s footsteps.

  “How’s Della adjusting to middle school?”

  “Better than we expected. I think she even made a few friends this week.”

  We hit a rough patch with her in the months following Ford’s death and the trial. It took her a while to work through everything that happened to her and everything she saw in the kitchen that night, but when Benson was born she made some major breakthroughs. She’s still not a typical kid, but she’ll get there.

  “Well, tell her that her favorite aunt will be at the game,” Hadley says.

  “I can’t make it. Don’t lie to the girl,” Bren teases.

  “Y’all both know I’m the favorite,” Caroline huffs.

  Before I can say anything to my friends, my phone dings with another text. Bracing for something dirty from Rafe, I laugh when I swipe the screen and see Della and Benson’s faces, pouting. “Come home, Mom,” is the caption under the picture.

  “Sorry, girls, but motherhood calls. I’ll see you Monday,” I tell my friends before turning my gaze to Hadley. “I’ll see you in the morning,” I tell her.

  “Send us videos from the game,” Laurel calls.

  “I will. Be safe on the way home.” I wave one more time and walk to the car, shaking my head at Bren, who’s calling out inappropriate things from the patio of the Magnolia about me and Rafe in hotel rooms.

  Just as I’m putting the car in reverse, the newest member of the Matthews clan kicks me hard, then flutters around my belly a bit, reminding me how lucky I am to have the life I have.

  All those years ago, curled up in the clearing and crying for Rafe when he didn’t show up, and then again in the hospital, mourning the loss of Rafe and our child, I never guessed I would be here today. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine my life would turn out like this… a husband that would go to the ends of the Earth to protect us, two children that I love more than life itself, and one more on the way.

  I type out a quick text to the kids, pull out of my parking spot, and head home to see my family.

  The End

  About the Author

  Gretchen Tubbs lives in South Louisiana, surrounded by her huge family. When she’s not writing, you can find her tucked away in her classroom teaching first graders how to read, chauffeuring her three daughters around, having coffee with her mom, dad, and various siblings, or basking in the awesomeness of her h
usband. She’s a total book junkie, and thinks Kristen Ashley and Colleen Hoover can do no wrong.

  Gretchen’s other books, including the series that started her writing journey, can be found on Amazon. The links to those titles can be found at http://www.amazon.com/Gretchen-Tubbs/e/B00VH0C3WA

  Connect with Gretchen on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/Author-Gretchen-Tubbs-1454443841525210/timeline/?ref=hl

  Acknowledgements

  I sit in God-awful traffic several times a week and often question why I stay at a job that sometimes frustrates me to no end. At the end of the day, the answer is always the same… I work with some of the most amazing people I have ever known. Girls, I love y’all. Lunch in the cottage is the highlight of my day. I can’t imagine not having that time with all of you every day. Kelley, Meghan, and Blair, you girls make that damn bridge worth the trouble!

  Dana, I thank you at the end of each book I write. If it wasn’t for you, I would have never done this once, much less five times. I hope you keep pushing me to write so that I can thank you forever. Love you Heavy D!

  Rachel, I’m sorry that your daughter learned some new words when she came across my manuscript! I know you cringe at my dirty words and sex scenes, but I appreciate all of your help. I promise that one day I will get it together with my out of control comma problem.

  I need to give a huge thank you to Justine Mellows, my content editor. Justine, you have taught me so much about writing in the past several months. I’m so glad I stumbled across your website when I was writing my last book. A million thanks to you!

  Laine, what can I say?! You were in my brain the whole time I was bringing Eleanor to life. Thank you for being my muse. I love you Fancy!

  And, even though he never reads my books, my husband needs a big thank you. Scott Tubbs is more of a mom than I am sometimes. He cooks, goes to the grocery store, and takes care of the kiddos so that I can do what I need to do. He’s pretty awesome!