Ten Tiny Breaths
Page 24

She chuckles, nodding in agreement. There’s a pause. “How was your little chat with Trent?”
“Oh, life altering.” His touch still lingers on my fingers and I can’t shake the pleading sound of his voice. Raw shame has settled on my shoulders. I should have answered him. Instead, I let Nate toss him out like a drunken ass.
I hate the feel of being in my skin right now.
We drive a few more minutes without talking. Then Storm breaks the silence with a full frontal assault. “Kace, what happened to you?” My jaw instantly clenches, unprepared, but she rushes on. “I still don’t know you at all. Given I’ve pretty much bared all. Literally. I was hoping you’d trust me to do the same.”
“You want me to spin around on a hoop and take my top off?” I joke, my voice flat. I know that’s not what she means.
“I asked Livie and she wouldn’t tell me. She said you needed to.” She says that in a low voice, like she knows she wasn't supposed to ask Livie in the first place.
My gut sinks to the floor. “Livie knows better than to tell anyone my secrets.”
“You need to start talking to someone, Kacey. That’s the only way to get better.”
“There’s no getting better, Storm. This is it.” There’s no coming back from the dead. I try to keep the coldness from my voice, but I can’t help it. It’s there.
“I’m your friend, Kacey. Whether you like it or not. I may have only known you for a few weeks, but I’ve trusted you. I’ve trusted your sister with my five year old, invited you into my home, and got you a job. Not to mention that you’ve folded my underwear and seen me naked.”
“All that without giving you my number. Oh, the guys at my gym would be so proud of me.”
We pull into the parking lot outside our apartment as my hand works fretfully over the door handle, the confines of Storm’s Jeep as it morphs into a confessional tin can overwhelming.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m not an idiot. I don’t do that with everyone. But there’s something about you. I could see it from day one. It’s like you’re fighting against being yourself. Every time a little bit of the real you escapes, you shut it down. Cover it up.” Her voice is so soft and yet it makes me break out in a cold sweat.
The real me. Who is that? All I know is that since moving to Miami, my carefully crafted defenses have been attacked from all angles. Even Mia and her gapped tooth grins have managed to worm their way into the cracks in my armor. No matter how many times I tell myself I don’t care, I’m starting to find my heart beating a little bit faster and my shoulders lift a little bit higher when I make them laugh.
“You don’t have to tell me everything, Kace. Not all at once. Why not just one little thing every day?”
I rub my brow as I try to find a way out of this. After the last time I blew her off, I thought she’d give up. But she’s just been biding her time. What if I bolt out of this car right now? Maybe this is a turning point in our friendship. Maybe she’ll write me off if I do something like that again. A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me that will bother me. And Livie. That will outright crush her and I can’t do that. I hear Livie’s voice in my head. Try. I know I have to. For Livie.
“Four years ago, my parents, my boyfriend, and my best friend died in a drunk driving accident.”
There’s a long pause. I don’t even have to look to know that tears run down Storm’s cheeks. People crying over it doesn’t faze me anymore. I’ve permanently shut off that tear-jerking switch.
“I’m so sorry, Kacey.”
I nod. Everyone apologizes and I don’t know why. They weren’t the douche bags in the other car.
“Do you remember any of it?”
“No,” I lie. Storm doesn’t need to hear how I remember every single moment trapped in the mangled Audi. She doesn’t need to hear how I listened to the hissing sound of my mother’s last breath, the noise that haunts me every night. Or how on one side my friend Jenny’s broken body molded itself against the car and how on the other, my hand lay trapped in my boyfriend’s hand, sensing every degree drop as heat left his corpse. How I had to sit in that car, unmoving, surrounded by the bodies of those I loved for hours while the emergency crew struggled to cut me out. I shouldn’t have survived.
I don’t know who let me live.
Storm’s soft voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Were you driving?”
I turn to glare at her. “Do you think I’d be sitting here now if I had been?”
She flinches. “Sorry. What happened to the drunk driver?”
I shrug noncommittally, staring straight ahead again. “He died. He had two friends in his car. One died. One walked away. That guy’s out there, living his life right now,” I answer, my words oozing with bitterness.
“Have you ever met him?”
“Never,” I whisper. The truth is I went out of my way to know nothing about him. About any of them. I wanted them to not exist. Unfortunately, I saw their names in the insurance papers they made me sign. Those names made them real, searing into my mind so I couldn’t possibly ever forget. They were three real people. Real people who murdered my family.
“God, Kacey.” She sniffles. “Have you had therapy?”
“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” I snap.
“I’m … I’m sorry.” The car is filled with Storm’s muffled sobs. She’s trying to contain them, to be strong, I can tell by the way she keeps sucking in her breaths.
My anger morphs into guilt and I bite my lip. Hard. The coppery taste of blood coats my tongue. Storm’s been nothing but kind to me and I’m nothing but a bitch to her. “I’m sorry, Storm,” I force out the words. Even though I mean them, they’re still hard to get out.
She reaches for my hand but, remembering, places her palm on my forearm.
That little gesture is enough to melt my icy defenses and I start rambling. “I was in the hospital and rehab for almost a year. Doctors visited me there. Not much after that though. Apparently zombie drugs and daily rounds of Kumbaya will solve all my problems. When I got out, my aunt insisted I talk to the counselors at her church. They suggested she put me in a serious rehabilitation program because I’m a broken young woman full of rage and hatred who could become harmful to herself and others if let loose.” That last part is almost word for word what they said. My aunt’s answer to that was leaving a bible on my nightstand. In her view, reading the bible fixes everything.
“Where’s this aunt now?”
“Back in Michigan with her disgusting husband who tried to molest Livie.” Silence. “Is that what you wanted to hear, Storm? That you have a walking head case living next to you?”
She turns to look at me, wiping tears from her cheeks with her palms. “You’re not a head case, Kacey. But you do need help. Thank you for telling me. It means a lot. One day it will get easier. One day this hatred won’t confine you anymore. You’ll be free. You’ll be able to forgive.”
I vaguely notice my head nodding. I don’t believe her. Not a word.
The atmosphere of the Jeep has dropped seven levels below unpleasant. I’ve bared more to Storm than I ever have to anyone else and its left me drained. “Look at you—Stripper Acrobat by night, Deep Thought Provoker by … later night.”