Kristen Ashley - Breathe

I replayed it when I turned off Main Street and walked through the quiet, dark streets to the elementary school. I listened to the words yet again as I slipped through the opening in the chain link fence and headed to the playground.

I was listening to it when I stopped at the swing set, lifted my mittened hand and rested it on one of the high swing set poles and dropped my head, pressing my forehead against my mitten. Listening and aching and knowing that there was nothing worse in the whole, wide world than the death of hope.

And I was listening to it when a hand wrapped firm and strong around my bicep but I also heard my low, surprised cry ringing in my head if not in my ears when I felt the touch and that hand didn’t hesitate to whip me around.

Then I stared up at Chace Keaton’s angry face.

What the frak?

I blinked up at him and I did this twice before I realized his mouth was moving.

He was talking to me.

“What?” I asked, automatically talking very loudly over music he couldn’t hear.

His head jerked, his eyes narrowed even as they moved all around the vicinity of my head. I felt his hand leave my arm then suddenly Ella Mae was gone because he’d lifted both his hands and pulled out my ear buds.

Then I heard him growl, “Jesus, it’s worse.”

I wasn’t following. I hadn’t gone from denying my lonesomeness to understanding it to the core of my being, letting go a dream, feeling that ache throb through me, beating at me in a way I knew I’d feel it forever to standing in the cold in the elementary school playground staring at an angry Chace Keaton.

“What’s worse?” I whispered.

“You, takin’ a walk alone in the dark of night in a town full of bikers who like to get drunk, rowdy and laid and doin’ it with your ear phones in and music so loud you couldn’t hear someone approach even if he was wearin’ a fuckin’ cowbell.”

He was right, of course. I could actually hear Ella Mae now and the ear buds weren’t even in my ears.

Quickly, with my thumb, I paused my iPod but I replied to Chace, “Bikers are friendly.”

“No, Faye, they’re not.”

“But, I’ve been living here my whole life and so have a bunch of bikers. They are.”

“Yeah, the ones who live here don’t shit where they live. The ones who come here from other places don’t give a fuck where they shit. ‘Course, this would mean that something happened to you, the local bikers would have to throw down, seeing as someone harmed one of their own so wherever they tracked the others to, all hell would break loose. After you created that nightmare, in the meantime, you wouldn’t be doing too fuckin’ good.”

“You curse a lot,” I whispered and his head jerked again just as his eyes narrowed again.

“What?” he clipped.

“Nothing,” I muttered and bit my lip.

His eyes dropped to my lips then sliced back up to mine.

Suddenly my hand was caught in a strong, firm grip and tugged while he stated, “I’m walking you home.”

Since his hand was tugging mine and his body was tall, lean and muscular and it was moving, I had no choice but to follow it.

But I did protest as my feet moved double time to keep up with his long strides, “That’s okay. Really. It isn’t far and I won’t listen to music.”

He stopped abruptly, jerking my hand which made me stop abruptly and he bent his neck so his handsome face was an inch from mine.

His eyes were angry.

No, furious.

I stopped breathing.

“I’m… walking… you… home,” he said low, slow, each word deliberate.

I did the only thing I could do. I nodded.

His face started to move back then his eyes narrowed again and, to the further detriment of my ability to breathe, it got even closer. His eyes moved over my features then they came back to mine.

“You been cryin’?” he asked, his voice low still but now soft.

I stared up at him and it hit me that he’d pulled us closer to the sidewalk where there were streetlamps so he could see me.

“No.”

There it was again!

Another lie!

Chace called me on it and he did it again in that low, soft voice that made his normally deep attractive voice deeper and far, far more attractive.

“Honey, I got eyes.”

I really liked it when he called me honey. He’d done it twice now and both times felt like gifts.

Of course, he probably called everyone honey if they were female. So it wasn’t a gift. It was throwaway. Meaningless.

I pulled in breath and straightened my shoulders.

“Okay then, Chace. I have been crying. But the fact I have and the reasons why I was are none of your business. So if you’re fired up to do your duty as an officer of the law and make sure I’m safe then walk me home. But, if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll pass on the interrogation.”

“There’s the backbone,” he muttered.

“What?” I snapped.

“Nothin’.” He was still muttering as he moved away, yanked on my hand and we started walking again.

I wanted to ask what he was doing roaming the streets in the middle of the night but I didn’t. I wanted to ask where his SUV was since I scanned for it as we walked through town in the cold and didn’t see it but I didn’t do that either. I wanted to ask him to let go of my hand but I didn’t do that either.

I just walked at his side with my hand held firm in his big, warm one and I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything stupid and dramatic. Like let my emotions and a beautiful, soul-wrenching song send me out into the night on an ill-advised walk. Which did nothing to clear my head seeing as I listened to the song that was wrenching my soul repeatedly while I did it.

In fact, I was deciding (dramatically, of course) from then on in, as we rounded the side alley to get to the back alley that led to my apartment, that I was listening to nothing but upbeat music for the rest of forever. I was so intent on deciding this that it didn’t occur to me that I wasn’t leading Chace to the alley where I lived.

He was leading me.

We’d turned into the back alley and got four steps in when we heard a crash.

Chace’s arm instantly jerked mine, pulling me back. He stepped forward and in front of me as he let go of my hand and his went to the gun at his hip.

But I saw, peering around him, a head pop up from the other side of the dumpster that was behind the Italian restaurant.

I knew that head.

“Holy frak!” I shouted. “That’s him!”

The boy from the library took off at my voice and I didn’t hesitate to take off after him.

“ Jesus, Faye! ” Chace roared from behind me but I kept right on going, arms pumping, feet sprinting.

I heard the beat of Chace’s boots then I saw him pass me and keep after the kid who darted around the corner of the side street. I watched Chace make the turn after him then I turned after them and saw Chace make another turn down Main Street.

I followed and saw Chace, well, chasing the kid down Main Street.

“You’re not in trouble!” I yelled. “We just want to help! It’s okay!” I kept yelling as the kid made a quick dash up a side street and disappeared, Chace still after him thus, seconds later, turning and disappearing too.

I made the dash as well and saw them racing up the side street.

Two blocks up, Chace was nearly on him when the kid put his hands to a fence, catapulted himself over and dashed through someone’s yard.

Chace didn’t delay in following him and disappearing into the yard.

Once I made it there, it took me four tries to get over that fence and I eventually had to heft my ass on it and swing my legs over. I had a feeling I tore the seat of my jeans when I did but I dropped to the other side and took off after them.