Ten Tiny Breaths (Ten Tiny Breaths #1)

Nate yanks Trent back and out the door and I do nothing but watch him go, that intense pleading gaze riveted to my face until it’s out of sight.

Everything seems wobbly as I wander back to the bar in a daze. The walls, the people, the dancers, my legs. I mumble an apology to Ginger for taking more than fifteen minutes. She waves it away with a smile as she pours someone a drink. With wooden movements, I turn back to see that a shapely native woman has taken center stage, doing some sort of rain dance reenactment in a scant feather costume. Storm is nowhere to be seen.

The world moves forward, oblivious to this significant shift in my tiny universe.





Stage Four ~ Acceptance





Chapter Seven





“So, what’d ya think?” Storm interrupts the silence in the car on the ride home.

I frown, not understanding her question. My mind’s still stuck on Trent, on the feel of his hand; on me, standing there like an idiot, not saying a thing. I’m so wound up over Trent and that pivotal moment that I’m for once not fazed by the confines of Storm’s Jeep. He held my hand. Trent held my hand and I didn’t drown.

I notice Storm’s small fists curled tightly around her steering wheel and she’s looking everywhere but at me. She’s nervous. “What do I think about what?” I ask slowly.

“About … my show?”

Oh! Right. “I don’t know how those boobs of yours don’t throw your balance off.”

Her head tips back and she laughs. “It took some getting used to, believe me.”

“Seriously, that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. What the hell are you doing in a strip club? You could be in Cirque du Soleil or some shit like that.”

I catch a hint of sadness in her giggle. “Not a lifestyle I can handle anymore. That means training all day and shows all night. I can’t do that with Mia to care for.”

“Why is this the first show I’ve seen?”

“I can’t do that every night. It’s hard enough to stay upright and get a bit of a work out in everyday.”

Huh. Storm works out. I had no idea. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugs. “We all have our secrets.”

My eyes drift out the window. “Well, that’s one hell of a way to reveal a secret.”

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.