Can't Hardly Breathe (The Original Heartbreakers #4)

Nothing mattered more than her, and yet he’d allowed fear to direct his steps and order his path. He’d been so worried about losing her that he hadn’t done anything to keep her.

He’d told her he wanted her and had thought he’d laid himself bare for her. As bare as she’d been the night she’d come to his room and dropped her coat. But he hadn’t. Not really. He’d kept the armor around his heart, and she’d known it. She’d had compassion in her eyes, and it had finally begun to crack. He was shamed. He’d sent her away that first night with harsh words and the fresh sting of rejection, yet she had offered him forgiveness and sweetness and everything right in a world gone wrong. And still he’d done nothing to keep her.

As a teen, he’d seen a glimpse of her worth when she’d stood before Harlow, her head held high. He’d told her, I think you’re perfect just the way you are. And she had been. She was. But he’d still focused his attention on other girls. Girls who would sleep with him. Girls who would never be part of his future. Easily had, easily forgotten. Just a bit of fun. But fun like that never lasted.

Since his return, he’d stuck to the same pattern, looking for distractions. But he didn’t need distractions. He needed Thea. She was his safe place. His light. She chased away the darkness.

If he couldn’t be the right man, he didn’t deserve the right woman.

He’d tried to fit her in the same box. First, temporary. Then permanent but only on his terms. Well, no more. Thea was the right woman. The only woman. He still wasn’t worthy of her, and he still deserved to lose her, but he wasn’t going to lie down and accept what he deserved. Not anymore. He was going to fight for what he wanted. Finally. He was going to be the right man.

“I have to go to her. Have to win her.”

“Hallelujah.” Brock helped him sit up and patted his shoulder. “I will help you win her, but first I’m going to take you to the hospital. You’re bleeding—everywhere.”

“No. No.” He shook his head, and dizziness returned with a vengeance. His jaw hurt. “Have to...inn...go.”

Darkness joined the dizziness and, with a single yank, managed to pull him into the abyss. He knew nothing more.





CHAPTER THIRTY

HER CAR WOULDN’T START.

Dorothea’s bags were stuffed in the trunk, right beside Ryanne’s and Lyndie’s. They had been ready to go for the past hour.

Her mom and Holly hovered in front of the inn, throwing out advice as she stared under the hood at machinery she couldn’t identify.

“Maybe it’s the rotator cuff?” Carol suggested.

“Or the thingamabob. You know, the thing with circles,” Holly said.

Ryanne and Lyndie stood beside her family, offering equally useless advice.

Lyndie: “Tell the car you love her. She’ll stop trying to punish you.”

Ryanne: “Tell the car to RIP. Because she’s dead. Forever.”

Ryanne could rebuild an engine—and had! If she said the car was dead, it was dead. And yet neither girl offered the use of her own car. Did they not want to go on this freebie vacation?

“You sure Brad Lintz wasn’t at the auto shop?” she asked. Since he and his girlfriend had broken up a few weeks ago, he’d been living there. According to local gossip, he hadn’t left more than twice.

“I’m sure,” Holly said. “I looked everywhere, even shouted his name.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll wait until he returns, and you’ll use the time to make sure you packed everything you need.” Carol wiped her hands together in a job well done. “I’m certain you don’t have enough clothes.”

“I plan to eat my weight in dessert,” she replied. “I don’t need anything but a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.”

“What about a swimsuit?” Holly asked. “How are you going to seduce the pool boy if you don’t take a swimsuit?”

“If I decide to go swimming, I can buy—”

“Well, look who’s talking like she’s Miss Richie Rich.” Carol tossed her arms up in exasperation. “Buying a new swimsuit when you have a perfectly good old one?”

What the heck was going on?

“What about snacks?” Lyndie asked, joining the madness. “A road trip isn’t a road trip without snacks.”

“Funny, but you failed to mention the importance of snacks before now,” Dorothea grated.

A pause. Then her friend blurted out, “Blood sugar!”

Seriously? “You don’t have low blood sugar.”

Ryanne frowned at her. “I can’t believe you can be so cavalier about a possible medical condition our friend may or may not have developed late in life.”

All right. Dorothea’d had enough. “What’s going on?”

Holly looked at the screen of her phone, and her shoulders rolled in. “It’s seven freaking o’clock.”

“I know!” Dorothea had been ready to leave right at six, as commanded, but first Lyndie had claimed to have a case of that “raging diarrhea you once experienced, remember? I bet you were contagious.”

Dorothea had replied, “Contagious...several weeks ago? Even though I never had it?”

Her friend had responded with “Some germs need time to incubate. And you could have been a carrier and just not have known it.” Then she’d spent the next fifteen minutes in the bathroom.

The street and sidewalk were filling as people arrived to man their booths at the festival, which would kick off in about an hour. If they weren’t gone before then, they wouldn’t be leaving until tomorrow.

Gasps of horror suddenly rang out, and the growing crowd parted.

“Out of my way,” a familiar voice demanded. “Out of my way!”

Daniel?

Relief radiated from her family and friends.

“Daniel,” she whispered, horrified. He wore a bloodstained hospital gown, some of that blood fresh, wetting the paper-thin material. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and there were knots and bruises all over his face. His knuckles were cracked and scabbed, and there was an IV tube hanging from the inside of his elbow.

His desperate gaze landed on her. “Don’t go,” he said, his voice ragged. “Please.” He stopped in front of her car. “I’m not letting you go. Or if you do go, I’m following. My place is with you. You are my home, and I’m fighting for you.”

She took a step toward him, only to go still. No matter how much she wanted to comfort him, she couldn’t give him false hope. “What happened to you?”

“A little skirmish at the bar. It’s not important.” His gaze moved to Ryanne. “I’ll pay for damages.”

“You’re danged right you will,” Ryanne said, but she didn’t sound upset. She sounded relieved.

A skirmish? Dorothea took another step, stilled. “Are you okay?”

“Not yet, but I will be. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” He wavered with more dynamism. The wildest part? Despite his weakness, he was still a force to be reckoned with. “I woke up in a hospital room with Jude and Brock at my side, but not you. I only wanted you. I only want you.”

Hospital? Her heart thudded against her ribs. “Maybe you should return.”

“I love you, Thea.”

She licked her lips. “Don’t do this. I can’t—”