The Break Free Series Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Fitch, E. M.

  “A book?”

  “Here,” he murmured, thrusting it into her hands. He turned his face away from her as she studied the cover. The worn brown surface was faded in places, ink that was once shiny standing out only dimly, but the title was clear.

  “The Princess Bride?” Kaylee questioned, her voice strangled around the lump in her throat. He knew her so well, treated her with such respect and caring. Why couldn’t she love him?

  “I thought we could read it together,” he continued, his voice colored only slightly with embarrassment. “I mean, I thought I could read it to you.”

  “You want—”

  “I know, I know. Shut up,” he muttered defensively, offering a small, self-conscious smile as he pulled the book from her fingers. He opened to the first page, cleared his throat, and read.

  Under Andrew’s gentle attention, the story unfurled, the words rolling in a tender cadence to fill the quiet space around them. The corners of the room stayed dark and the candle emanated a small bubble of light that enclosed Kaylee and Andrew. She sunk back into the armrest of the couch, turning to face her friend as he read, her feet pulled up under her. The aches and pains of the long night of hauling food into storage were ebbing, all except the dull ache in her foot.

  Stupid Emma.

  Kaylee would have sworn Emma could have caught that can before it fell. She frowned as her fingers found her foot. Rubbing seemed to help.

  “Your foot bothering you?” Andrew paused to ask, his voice soft and concerned.

  “A bit,” Kaylee conceded with a nod. “It’s not bad, just sore.”

  “C’mere,” Andrew said, one hand pulling Kaylee’s feet from under her and gathering them up in his lap. His fingers found her hurt foot and squeezed softly, propping the open book on her extended legs. “Just lay back and close your eyes. I needed a book rest anyway.”

  Kaylee smiled in the darkness, doing as Andrew told her and laying back, eyes closed. His fingers traced the contours of her foot, ghosting over her skin in intricate patterns. She sighed as he picked up reading where he had left off.

  She could picture them all in her head, actors and actresses whose names she could no longer remember, names she would now probably never know for the rest of her life. She remembered the guy who played Columbo was in the movie, her father and mother used to watch that show after she and her sister went to sleep, but she couldn’t remember any other role he had played. Regardless, his character wasn’t really in the book. But as Andrew spoke, she could envision Wesley lifting a jug from overhead, see Buttercup riding across green meadows, the wind racing through her hair. Kaylee couldn’t remember the last time she felt the wind rushing through her hair. Sure, the roof got windy sometimes, some nights even with enough force that Kaylee tied her hair back so it wouldn’t blow into her eyes. But not like Buttercup’s was blowing, not whipping back from her face, flying straight from behind her as she raced through a meadow. Kaylee brought her hands to her hair, running her fingers through the strands. She missed that.

  Andrew’s fingers kept up a nice rhythm, pressing and easing with just the right amount of pressure, stuttering only briefly when a darker shadow flickered on the wall. Kaylee felt her eyes drift open lazily.

  “’S just me,” Emma muttered, hovering in the doorway. Andrew paused and nodded to the empty seat beside him. Emma teetered on the threshold, her lip bit between her teeth. Kaylee was about to suggest moving to their bedroom, very much aware of just how intensely Emma hated the living room, how she avoided it whenever she could. But Emma surprised her, taking a slow step forward. Kaylee watched her but Emma refused to meet her gaze, her eyes were on the sofa, on Andrew and the book. So, Kaylee let her head fall back again, allowing Emma this privacy. And Andrew’s fingers pressed again, drift slowly over her pulse point, his thumb pressing firmly into her heel.

  The worn couch dipped as Emma sat and Andrew continued reading as if there had been no pause. There was no need to catch Emma up; she knew the movie just as well as Kaylee and the book wasn’t so very different.

  The world Andrew was slowly re-creating with his low, dulcet tone felt real, permeated Kaylee’s consciousness, and so it startled her when Emma laughed.

  "Ha!" Emma burst through the calm silence of the room, her laugh bouncing eagerly off the nearby walls to echo back at Kaylee and Andrew. "I like this author, he's good. This book is better than the movie."

  "You always think that," Kaylee said, rousing from her story-induced stupor to roll her eyes.

  "That's because it's always the case."

  "Not true," Kaylee argued, shifting up on the couch and rising to her elbows. "What about something like The Cat in the Hat?"

  "Kid's books don't count, Kaylee! You try and use that every time!"

  "So The Wizard of Oz is a book for adults? I'm sure that one counts, right?"

  "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz had social commentary, so yeah, it does count. Clifford the Big Red Dog isn't making any political statements!"

  "I never said Clifford!" Kaylee fumed. Emma snorted. "Fine, what about The Birds?"

  "Short story!"

  “Bridges of Madison County!”

  “Girls?” Andrew shook his head and pat Kaylee’s foot, pining her with a look she knew well. He looked at her like that every time Emma had wanted to play with them when they were little and Kaylee had wanted to kick her out of the room. It was indulgent and just a tad impatient and a little expectant; it was a look that said: let your little sister win this one. She rolled her eyes at him.

  “Fine, Dad,” she teased, scowling to hide her smile. Andrew laughed. Emma huffed.

  “You’re a sore loser,” Kaylee hissed at her sister. Emma stuck her tongue and Andrew ignored them both, continuing where he left off.

  “‘Yes,’ Buttercup replied. There was a very long pause. ‘But I must never love again.’” Andrew paused to flip the page. “‘Chapter two. The Groom.’”

  ~

  Andrew was just describing Prince Humperdink’s proposal, a proposal so weak it was comical, a conversation that entailed his not loving Buttercup and Buttercup not loving him and the decision that therefore they would be the perfect married couple when Kaylee’s attention was drawn towards the dark kitchen. He was so still that Kaylee almost missed him. His presence didn’t scatter the light into diffuse and darker shadows as Emma’s had done. He stood, quiet and still, sentry-like, at the doorway, watching the three teenagers laugh quietly over the absurd characters. Emma was tucked into Andrew’s side and Kaylee’s legs were still draped over his lap. They were comfortable, close and happy, a family. Kaylee saw him there only fleetingly, a quick glance, her gaze drawn inexplicably over the back of the couch. His expression was unreadable, poised as he was on the threshold of the living room, and he melted back into the darkness of the kitchen before she could do much more than blink.

  “That’s as much as I can do,” Andrew croaked moments later, folding the corner of the page he had been reading and tossing the book unto the table. Emma stretched her arms above her head and then sunk back into the cushions, her feet once more pulled up under her, her side flush with Andrew’s. Kaylee fought through a yawn, the unnatural buzz of caffeine that she was so unused to wearing off. She felt a crash coming.

  “Thanks Drew,” Emma murmured. Her demeanor was quiet again, her eyes drawn to the flickering light of the nearly burnt out candle. “Hope your foot feels better Kaylee. Sorry about before.” Kaylee snorted and nodded her acceptance of Emma’s apology. Her sister’s eyes darted only once to her, a muted smile that seemed more a grimace stretched her lips, and then Emma was standing, muttering a goodnight, and heading towards the stairs.

  “That was new for her,” Andrew whispered, watching the doorway Emma had just disappeared through. “Think she’ll be okay?”

  “Emma’s always okay,” Kaylee replied, rolling to her side and sitting up. “But I’ll wait a bit before going up to the room. She hates it when I see her cry.”

 
“Want more company?” Andrew asked, the vowels stretching as a yawn broke through. He was smiling but his eyes looked tired. It had been a long night for him.

  “You get some sleep,” she said, patting his knee. “And thanks so much for this Andrew. You know how much I—”

  “I know, I know,” he interrupted. “Best friends, right?”

  “Always,” Kaylee answered, overwhelming gratitude towards Andrew evidencing itself with a smile. He grabbed her hand and squeezed before he stood, his joints popping as he stretched.

  “Tell Emma,” he paused, his brow wrinkled as he thought. “Well, just tell her I had fun tonight and I hope she did too. I hope she’s all right.”

  “She is,” Kaylee reassured. Because if there was ever one constant in her life, it was Emma. Emma was tough. Andrew nodded and offered a little wave and then he left her too.

  The worn sofa was still warm from the three bodies that had curled up on it. Kaylee sank into the cushions gratefully. Her eyelids were heavy and sleep was pulling at her but she really wanted to give Emma some time alone. Privacy was a hard thing to come by in the small firehouse and Kaylee tried to be as respectful as possible of her sister’s needs.

  There always seems to be someone walking in on you here.

  The thought came to her unbidden but un-ignorable. Jack. It was he that had been watching them, watching her. Why hadn’t he joined them? Where was he before and where is he now? The need for sleep forgotten, she stood, her eyes cast in suspicion to the kitchen.

  The room was darkened and in her haste Kaylee left the candle sputtering on the table by the sofa. But she could still see him, or rather, the silhouette of him. In the dense, blackened shadows that dominated the crowded kitchen he sat, his outline undeniably defined.

  “You’ve been ignoring me.” It was the first thought to come to her mind and it sounded like an accusation as it blurted past her lips. His quiet chuckle rang through the air and she heard chair legs scrape against the old linoleum floor as he pushed back and stood up.

  “Should I apologize?” he asked, sounding amused.

  “Why?” Kaylee asked, ignoring his prosaic response. His footsteps echoed as he walked around the edge of the table. “I thought, I mean, the other night…”

  “You thought?”

  “Was I not—” Kaylee broke off, turning her gaze from him and huffing in frustration. “Didn’t you have fun?”

  She nearly growled as she heard his low laugh. There was no furniture separating them now, the space between them filled only with a low pulse of energy that Kaylee found hard to deny. There was something about him, some energy or sense or feeling that sparked whenever he closed the distance. Even now, even in the darkness with only the low glow of the dulling candle, when she couldn’t see one single feature, couldn’t read his expression, or see that laughing glint of his eyes as his lips curled to grin, she was drawn to him.

  “Why would you think I hadn’t?” he asked and she was taken aback because here he was, soft and serious, when all along she had been picturing him with an infuriating smirk.

  “You’ve avoided me since,” she answered, embarrassed that her voice squeaked. But he was coming closer, walking slowly and carefully, and soon she could feel the heat from him.

  Or was it her? Because her cheeks were flaming and her chest was seizing with warmth. Her breath was staggered, not so much that he would notice, but enough to make her stop talking so as to avoid betraying her feelings.

  Wait, what feelings? For Jack?

  Kaylee struggled to swallow, lifting her face to search through the darkness for his. He was obscured completely. But she could feel him. He was close, inches maybe. If she reached out, she would touch him. His breath washed over her and that delicious woodsy aroma with the tinge of pine trees that was so very Jack clouded her mind even further.

  I don’t have any feelings for him. I can’t. He’s leaving.

  He had made that much clear, the only thing clear. Everything else felt like a muddled mess.

  “Don’t you know why?” he asked. Kaylee had to pull her mind from her own thoughts to remember what she had even accused him of.

  “Kaylee,” he started, looming over her as he spoke, “Andrew’s a good guy. I don’t want to mess things up for you here.”

  Kaylee staggered back as though slapped. Andrew. That’s why he’s avoiding her, to make things easier for Andrew. Because there could be nothing between them, Jack and she, and he didn’t want to get her hopes up.

  But you knew that. You knew that all along.

  Then why this crushing sense of loss, worse even than that: despair? Why did she feel as though everything important was just ripped from her, leaving a blank, hollow hole? She struggled to come to terms with this new, intense, and unpleasant feeling that stung her eyes and carved out a ravine in her chest.

  Rejection. Was that the word for this horrible feeling? It didn’t seem harsh enough.

  “Kaylee?” he stepped closer again but she moved back. She didn’t want to feel that heat and the confused, half-formed hopes that accompanied it, not when his tongue could squash them all so easily with a well-placed jab. “I have to leave. You know that. You said you understood.”

  And she did, she really did. But to have him ignore her, push Andrew in her direction…

  It was one thing to leave, to never show interest, or to show it and grieve over love lost. But this cold indifference, this attempt to shove her into Andrew’s arms as though it wouldn’t have mattered who she partnered with, who she loved. As though one man is the same as any other—

  Wait. Love? Kaylee drew a hurried breath and turned her back on Jack. She gripped the worn fabric of the faded sofa, not even sure how she had backed up enough to get into the living room. I don’t love Jack. I don’t. I love Andrew, but…

  Her thoughts twisted and taunted her, because the words that formed next, those words made absolutely no sense at all.

  …not like I love Jack.

  “But,” she stammered, trying to force her thoughts into cooperation, force her mouth to respond to what Jack was saying. “But maybe we’ll leave too, maybe—”

  “You’re not.”

  It was cold and very nearly indifferent. It was matter-of-fact and straight to the point and said without inflection or emotion. And worst of all, without even asking anything more, asking how he found out, she knew it was true.

  “I just came from Anna’s room. It was decided. Quinton and me, we really tried. But your Dad wasn’t having it. Anna and Bill sided with him eventually and then that was it. You’re staying.”

  So this was it, really, truly it. Kaylee had thought she believed it long ago, believed that Jack was leaving and she was staying and that years from now this friendly little encounter would be the things good fireside stories were made of. Don’t you remember that time when Quinton and Jake, oh no it was Jack, wasn’t it? Well anyway, they showed up and stole some corn and nearly brained Kaylee and taught Emma some cute tricks with a rifle. That was fun, wasn’t it? But the way her heart collided with her ribcage, they way her words caught in her chest, the burn of her eyes and in the sting in her throat convinced her that she must have been clinging on to some pathetic shred of something that sorely resembled hope. More than that, want. She wanted him with her, needed him there.

  But, she thought bitterly to herself, that’s why love is so wonderful, isn’t it?

  “Kay?”

  “I understand,” she spoke through numb lips. Her head was reeling and she struggled to maintain the thread of the conversation. “But I still don’t like it when you avoid me.” She was sure, in that moment, that there were better things, prettier and more poetic things that she could have said. But she couldn’t think straight and it seemed the easiest way to end the exchange.

  “Okay,” Jack answered, his tone unsure and hesitant. “I won’t then.”

  “Good.” And without another word, Kaylee turned, blew out the stuttering remains of the candle, and stum
bled blindly to her room.

  ~

  However long she was with Jack, however long that seemingly banal and yet life-changing conversation had taken; it was not long enough for Emma. When Kaylee flew through her bedroom door, forgetting to mark her approach, knock, anything to let Emma know she was coming, she found her sister twisted up in her sheets, her face wet.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Kaylee muttered, turning from Emma, her hand on the doorknob. But she couldn’t seem to make it turn. The cold metal bit into her overheated skin, serving as a harsh reminder of just why she felt so out of sorts. She dropped her hand as though it were seared, leaning forward until her head connected with the wood of the door.

  “’S okay,” Emma mumbled. “I’m asleep.”

  Kaylee knew that was no where near true, probably wouldn’t be true for several hours, but she nodded against the door anyway, certain Emma could see her.

  “Sorry,” she whispered again, knowing her sister wouldn’t answer. Kaylee sighed. There was no talking to Emma when she got like this. Kaylee always found it best to just give her space and, in time, Emma would be fine.

  Not sure I will be though.

  Kaylee wished she could kick her stupid heart for making her go ahead and fall for Jack. It was such a stupid, reckless thing to do.

  It was always supposed to be Andrew.

  Andrew was safe. He loved her. He took care of her. He would stay with her. Here, Alaska, it wouldn’t matter to Andrew. And it would have been so easy! He did love her already. He knew her, inside and out. He saw past her hesitations, her insecurities. He was willing to wait.

  Damn it, Kaylee!

  But again, really, it still didn’t matter. Now it was just a matter of knowing she loved Jack, knowing he stirred her in a way she knew Andrew would never be capable of, and of just living with it.

  Remembering. Missing. And ultimately, ignoring.

  She pushed off from the door, keeping her eyes to the floor and avoiding her sister. The way Emma was breathing, the little hitches and pauses, convinced Kaylee that tears were silently sliding down her cheeks. And suddenly, she was exhausted. The buzz of the Coke she had splurged with was waning and her limbs felt heavy and uncoordinated. She didn’t even bend to kick off her shoes, just toed them off and into the corner of the room.