Breathe with Me
Page 74

Except, I’m not fine.
“We’ve been home for two days and you’ve been damn moody,” he mutters then pushes his fingers through his hair. “Are you and Mark fighting?”
“No, we’re great.” It’s not a lie. Mark and I have been fantastic.
“Something is wrong, KitKat.” He tilts my head back to look me in the eyes. “If everything with Mr. Hot Tamale is so great, why do you look so sad?”
“I’ve just been in a funk since the wedding,” I admit softly.
Jax tilts his head, watching me closely. “Why?”
I jerk my shoulder up in a shrug. “It’s stupid.”
“I doubt it.”
I sigh and wave at a mom as she sits on a bench on the far side of the room.
“It just reminded me that Mom, Dad and Tiff are gone and if I ever marry Mark, they won’t be here for it.”
“That’s not stupid.”
“It’s not stupid, but it’s silly to still be brooding about it. That would just piss Mom off.”
“You’re grieving, sweetie. It’s okay to be sad sometimes.”
“Yeah.” I blow out a gusty breath. “I’m starting to piss myself off, though, so it’s time to shake this mood off.”
“GGN tonight?” Jax asks.
“That would be fun! No plans with Mr. Lovey Pants?”
“I can rearrange things.”
“Meredith.” Our heads swivel toward the door at the sound of Luke’s voice.
“What’s up?” I grin at Mark’s handsome older brother, but I feel the smile fall from my face when I see the look on his. “What happened?”
“Jax,” he begins without breaking eye contact with me. “I need you to take care of things here. There’s been a car accident.”
I gasp and feel my heart speed up as my entire body breaks out in cold sweat.
“What?” My voice is a low whisper.
“There’s been a car accident, Mer. Mark’s on his way to the hospital.”
I blink frantically as Luke and Jax continue to talk, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. My ears are buzzing. Or is that my head? Someone takes my hand and pulls me out of the chair.
“Meredith,” Jax says sternly, making me meet his gaze. “Breathe, baby. You go with Luke. I’ll take care of this last class and meet you at the hospital later.”
I nod automatically as Jax passes my hand to Luke and he leads me out of the studio to his SUV, but I can’t even feel my feet. I’m just following automatically. My face suddenly feels wet.
“Is it raining?” Is that my voice? Soft and hoarse and weak?
“Yes, sweetheart. Come on, get in my car.”
Luke is talking, but I don’t hear him. I lean my forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window, and I’m suddenly thirteen years old, sitting in Mrs. Yakamura’s classroom.
“Meredith?”
Oh geez, did I do that bad on the stupid math test? Mrs. Yakamura is staring at me with really serious eyes, like I’m in trouble or something. I didn’t do anything I can think of. I mean, she wouldn’t know that I stole Tiff’s favorite barrette this morning and put it in my hair after I got to school.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I need you to go down to the principal’s office, please.”
The kids around me snicker and my tummy tightens with nerves. “What did I do?”
“You’re not in trouble, but they do need you down at the office, sweetie.”
“I’m not in trouble?” Why else would I be sent down there? This is the weirdest day ever!
“No. But grab your things. You won’t be coming back to class today.”
“She’s suspended?” My best friend, Amanda, asks with wide eyes.
“No. They’ll explain when you get down there.” I grab my backpack and coat and shrug at Amanda when she does the what the heck is going on look. When I move to pass by Mrs. Yakamura, she pulls me in for a strong hug, surprising me.
“I’m so sorry, Meredith.”
I must be in trouble. Why else would she be sorry? Oh my gosh, if my dad finds out that I got suspended from school, he’ll be beyond mad. He might even take my dance lessons away, and that would suck the worst. He’s always lecturing me and Tiff about being responsible and taking school seriously, and that it’s okay to have hobbies but we need to be focused.
Blah, blah, blah.
I’m only thirteen, for gosh sakes. It’s not like I’m going to college next year. Maybe I won’t go to college at all. Maybe I’ll just be a dancer. I’ll be a dancer and fall in love with a handsome musician and he’ll write me love songs and tell me how pretty I am.
Daddy tells me I’m pretty, but he’s my daddy. He’s supposed to say that.
Happy with my decision to marry a musician, I execute a perfect pirouette down the empty hallway on my way to the office. When I go inside, I’m surprised to see my mom and the counselor, Mr. Pritchett, waiting for me.
“Mom?” Her eyes are red and blotchy. Mine get the same way when I’ve been crying for a long time. “Mommy?”
“Oh, baby girl.” She yanks me into her arms and smothers me against her breasts, holding onto me so tight I can barely breathe, and cries hard. She’s shaking and sobbing against me.
Why is she crying? She only ever cries when she watches sad movies or when Grandma died. I start to cry too because she’s scaring me.