Every Stolen Breath

by Kimberly Gabriel

  Ryan nods at the TV. “What’s going on?”

  My mom crosses her legs and straightens her back. “Lia’s responsible for many arrests tonight. She got Richard Stewart to admit he organized the Death Mob murders. And she got it on tape.”

  “That’s not exactly what happened,” I say.

  Ryan stares at me with something like disbelief. I can feel the red blotches crawling up my neck and my face, spreading warmth inside me. Maybe even pride. Ryan turns back toward footage of Richard being led away in handcuffs from the mayor’s house.

  “You might as well take a seat,” my mom says. She gives Ryan a weak smile. The last time she saw him was when she kicked him off our roof and blamed him for my father’s death. “We have more than enough food here, and I have a feeling this will be on all night.”

  Ryan nods in appreciation.

  “I didn’t know Emi installed the software on my phone,” I say, before he thinks too highly of me, my role in the evening. “Emi’s lying. She’s acting like I cornered Richard on purpose, but I didn’t.”

  I search his face, waiting for his expression to change. But it doesn’t.

  My mom nods. “Tonight, this city took a step in the right direction. That’s all that matters right now. We should celebrate that.”

  My mom walks over and squeezes my shoulder. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Don’t open the door for anyone.” She kisses my temple before walking back through the sliding doors and shutting them.

  As soon as she does, Ryan closes the space between us. Our mouths collide. He slides his hands into my hair and holds me as he kisses me like he almost never saw me again.

  When he pulls back, his face breaks into a smile, a genuine one like the first time he kissed me in my garage, and I can’t help but smile back.

  Emi’s words cut into our moment as she ends her interview. “Thank you for having me.” Both of us turn toward the TV.

  “What do we do now?” I ask.

  Ryan traces my face with his fingertips. “We watch Emi Vega spin her story, and every Chicago news anchor proclaim they never believed gangs were behind the Swarm. And we celebrate the small step.”

  I smile because he’s right. And because somewhere beneath the lies is a truth my dad fought hard to uncover. Tonight we took a step toward that. This fight is far from over, and I’m not sure the healing will ever be over. But maybe that doesn’t matter. Maybe that was always the way it was going to happen.

  The TV flashes to Mayor Henking standing with his wife and Cullen on his porch stairs. “We are as shocked as anyone about Richard’s alleged involvement in the Death Mob’s murders. I assure you, we will do everything we can to cooperate and uncover the truth behind what’s been going on.” Cullen looks off to the left, avoiding the cameras glaring at him, in a very anti-Cullen way. Is he struggling to cope with witnessing the attack? Sulking because he didn’t know about it? Pissed Richard was caught and his dad’s about to be under tight scrutiny?

  Reporters shout at them until one reporter’s voice rises above the rest. “What was Lia Finch doing in your house tonight?”

  The mayor smiles. “Ms. Finch was our guest. She is always welcome in our home.”

  Ryan pulls me closer. “You’re never going back there.”

  I lean into him, knowing in my gut I’ll have to. The mayor doesn’t strike me as someone who gives up easily.

  But neither do I. And this is a fight I’m not willing to lose.

  I rest my head against Ryan’s chest until I can hear his heartbeat.

  And I breathe.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  For as long as I’ve dreamt of publishing my book, I’ve also imagined writing the acknowledgments—my chance to thank everyone who has helped me and this story get to this point. I’ve lost track of how many revisions this book has had and how many years it took me to complete. But my journey toward publication and becoming a serious writer started with people who believed in my story and were willing to take a chance on me.

  Neil Couturier, a beautiful, talented writer himself, has believed in this story since its inception. As my go-to critique partner, he’s read almost as many revisions of this book as I have, including the early and sometimes scary drafts. He’s shared in every high and low and sat down with me for countless brainstorming chats. Some of my favorite lines and scenes came from those discussions. I would not be an author without his continual support and creative genius pushing me throughout this entire process.

  Dawn Ius took a chance on me when she chose to mentor my manuscript in Pitch Wars. At the time I submitted it to her in 2016, the manuscript was rough. But Dawn recognized its potential and worked with me to shape it into a book. With that perfect balance of cheering for me and kicking my ass, Dawn helped me and my book become a contender.

  My agent, Jenny Herrera, took a chance on me when she pulled me out of the slush. Not only did she offer me representation, which caused several fits of grateful, happy, ugly-crying, she also gave me brilliant and spot-on editorial feedback before sending me off to my revision cave to revise yet again. Both fierce and wicked smart, Jenny is the ultimate warrior, the kind you want to fight alongside and hope to never come across in battle. I cannot thank her enough for her support, her encouragement, her counsel, and her witty sense of humor. That last part should not be underestimated—in this industry, being able to laugh as often and as loudly as possible is essential to surviving it.

  My team at Blink took a chance on me when they acquired my book and offered me the dream I’ve coveted since I was nine. A big thank you, with all the virtual hugs attached, to Sara Bierling and Jacque Alberta; their sharp insight and careful attention to detail helped me polish this book into its presentable shape. Thank you to Jillian Manning for first showing interest, and to Jennifer Hoff, Hannah VanVels, and the entire team for their enthusiasm and support.

  I’m so lucky for the game-changers, who created opportunities for me I might not otherwise have. But I’m equally thankful for and humbled by how many people have influenced me and my story along the way. Thank you to the very talented author Kurt Dinan for his unwavering support, his smart critical feedback, and his ability to find humor in any setback. Every writer needs a quick-witted friend like Kurt to keep them sane. Thank you to the lovely and talented Tamara Girardi for her friendship and her ah-ha commentary several times throughout this process. Thank you to all my early and late readers—Susan Meyer, Deb Bailey, Kara McDowell, Jennifer Camiccia, Tara Creel, Keena Roberts, and Sam Taylor—for their encouragement and feedback. A huge thank you to the entire Pitch Wars community. When I first started writing, I underestimated the importance of the writing community, and now I’m not sure where I would be without it. Thank you, thank you, thank you to Brenda Drake for her unselfish comradery and support of all writers, and for creating and facilitating the Pitch Wars community and contest.

  In writing this book, I had to lean on experts in technology, realty, law, asthma, and psychology. Thank you to Randy Saeks, Walter Pituc, Mario Greco, Amy Gabriel, Randy Orr, and Amy Lewis for graciously answering my questions.

  Thank you to every student I’ve ever had who has complimented something I’ve written. I still remember writing a short piece for a class activity during my first year of teaching and putting it on the overhead projector (yes, that long ago). After reading it out loud, I prompted my students with a question about voice, and a seventh grader named Morrison answered by telling me I should be an author one day. I’m grateful for that indelible moment, and every lovely, indelible moment since. I’ve shared my writing in one way or another with my students since I started teaching. The kind words and enthusiasm they’ve shown has encouraged me and given me the confidence to persevere through a very long and hard process.

  Thank you to my mom, who has been proud of everything I’ve ever written, no matter how terrible it was. In fourth grade she helped me bind my poems with those plastic, sliding bar report covers that were really big in the eighties.
That year, she encouraged me to give my “published” mini anthologies as gifts to everyone I knew. In doing so, she ignited this dream of publication. Love you, Mom. Thank you to my dad, who read an early draft of this book and compared me to his favorite writer, James Patterson. Regardless of how far-fetched the compliment, it meant the world to me. Thank you both for telling every single person you’ve ever known that they need to buy my book. I promise you are so much better parents than the parents in this story.

  Thank you to my sisters, Jackie and Sarah, who have remained on call to help me with whatever designer, social media, or Chicago-related questions I had while writing this book. Thank you for celebrating alongside me during all the fun moments and holding my hand throughout the rougher moments of writing and of life in general.

  To Avery, Jake, and Mason, my little preemie: having the three of you in my life has made me better in every way. Thank you for being my constant and endless source of love, inspiration, and laughter. And finally to Marc. Thank you for supporting me, always. Thank you for making my dreams your goals. Years ago, when I told you I wanted to run a marathon, you helped me train and ran alongside me. And when I told you I wanted to publish a book, you didn’t flinch. You cooked more dinners and even did an occasional load of laundry to give me more writing time. You’re my biggest champion and my best friend. I feel so lucky to be sharing the journey with you.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Kimberly Gabriel is an English teacher who writes every chance she gets and struggles with laundry avoidance issues. When she’s not teaching or writing, she’s enjoying life with her husband, her three beautiful children, and a seriously beautiful boxer in the northern suburbs of Chicago.