The Reason I Breathe Page 5

  “Shit, I’m sorry, Andrew. You know I love her. She’s my blood too. But I’m worried for you and for the babies. What are you going to do when Riley comes? You have to be there for them.”

  Confusion clouds my brain. I’m a horrible father. I’m not physically abusive like my old man, but ignoring Holly is just as bad. We shouldn’t have had kids. Maybe I’m too selfish to share Ryan. These two little humans—we created them. Our love made them. They’re a part of us both, and we will live on through them.

  I let go of the chair and collapse in it. I squeeze my eyes shut because I don’t want my sister to see what a sniveling loser I’ve become.

  “Andrew, don’t. If I see you break down, I will too. Please, for God’s sake, someone has to be strong. Talk to someone. The hospital has clergy. Talk to them.”

  I feel her hand on my arm as I open my eyes. “Seriously, you want me talk to them? If God were going to help, I’d think he would have stepped in by now. I don’t have the will to be strong, Trina. Not when it comes to her. Our lives have just begun. Tell me. What am I supposed to do? Tell me.” I sob.

  Trina’s fingers push up my chin. “You don’t get a choice. There’s no plan B for you. You have kids. The minute you chose to become a parent, fate decided for you. Quit acting as if she’s already gone, and be the man she married. You proved to her you were worthy to be a husband. Now honor it and be a good father.”

  I know what she’s saying is fact. Ryan would kick my ass if she knew what I’d become. The person I became in the last seven years was because of her. I don’t know who I’ll be if I lose her. I’m a fucking selfish bastard. I hate myself right now. Instead of thinking about my kids being motherless, I’m dwelling on myself. Maybe I am going to be a horrible father. I was only a good dad before because of Ryan. She’s what made me a better parent.

  Trina hands me a towel. “Go and take a long shower. I’ll put a razor and some sweats outside the door. It’ll make you feel better.”

  I reluctantly stand and clutch the towel, then make my way down the hallway. I stop at the door cracked enough for me to glimpse in where Holly is fast asleep. With her eyes closed, she looks so much like Ryan. Will I ever be worthy as a father? She’s too young for me to tell her about her mom. And how do I handle a second child? There’s no way Ryan is leaving me. No way. I need my ass kicked into gear. If I could reach, I’d kick my own. I actually disgust myself right now because I feel lost and insecure. I can’t afford to have these emotions. I have three people counting on me.

  I spend over thirty minutes in the shower and another twenty trying to shave with my sister’s girly razor, leaving me bleeding in several places. Feeling the sting and seeing the blood actually feels good. It makes me realize I’m still alive. I’m numb most of the time. I need this physical pain; it’s almost like a distraction. I pull on a pair of Quinn’s sweatpants and a sweatshirt. It seems almost normal to have clean clothes and a semi-shaven face.

  “You look better,” Trina comments as she grabs my dirty clothes out of my arms. “I’ll wash these later and bring them to you. I guess I’ll go by the house and get a few more things for Holly and grab you some extra clothes too. Anything else you need?”

  “No, I’m good. Thanks for taking such good care of Holly. If I haven’t mentioned it, I do appreciate everything you and Quinn are doing.”

  “I know, Andrew. You’re my baby brother and she’s my sister. This isn’t hardship. It’s love.”

  I hug her as I press a light kiss to her forehead. “I have to get going. Kiss Holly for me when she wakes up. I’ll try to come back tomorrow.”

  Trina nods, her face filled with concern and judgment. I’m disappointing everyone. My sister, my daughter, and my wife. I only hope she’ll wake up to give me hell. I would gratefully welcome that moment.

  ~9~

  This will always be one of my favorite stories. I know you always cringed when I brought it up, but it’s a tale I love to remind you of. Even though you acted like it was no big deal. I knew our first time sans condom would be ecstasy. It was pure agony to be away from you those three days. But you’d insisted since I was still in night school. In reality, it had made the time go faster while we waited for our test results.

  All I could think about was being inside you—bare. It kept me mentally motivated. It was a good thing I wasn’t going to see you, because I wouldn’t have wanted to wait. It was hard—literally—in class. Having the constant loop play in my head, over and over again, of that first night—I salivated just thinking about drinking in your taste and how I wanted another sip. Just remembering made me crazy anticipating the next time.

  That third day couldn’t come fast enough. I had a hard-on all day just thinking about how many ways to take you. When I finally got to your house, your expression said a million words. As our test result papers fluttered to the floor, my lips met yours.

  I couldn’t wait as I pulled my sweater over my head. I needed to fuck you so badly. I licked my lips as I nudged you against the kitchen counter. I had no doubt you could feel my length as it pressed into your backside. Damn, I’ll admit I wanted to be inside every available opening you had. You let me push up your dress and feel how damp your panties were. God, baby, you were always so wet, so ready just for me.

  I pulled them to one side and dipped in my finger… slowly, casually. Your arousal drenched it, causing me to growl. Truth be told, you could always make me growl and groan. I was now at your mercy. You fucking possessed me, Ryan. What the hell am I talking about? You’ve owned me since I was eight. Yeah, I know that sounds perverted and maybe it is, but it’s the truth—my truth.

  I slid those white satin panties down to your ankles, then kicked your legs apart. I lazily grazed the crack of your ass with my finger. I had no doubts I wanted to eventually take you there. I loved anal. But I could sense your apprehension and I noted your posture stiffen in response to my prodding. It made me chuckle. I had no intention of taking it right then. It would take too long to prep you. Plus, I wanted it to be something you were game to try. I got the distinct feeling either you’d never tried it or the prospect was distasteful to you.

  I quickly unzipped and let my cock spring free as I kissed your shoulders and neck. You had leaned back into me, and as my lips caressed your mouth, I entered you silently and quickly. Your pussy bathed me in rigid heat. It had been eight years since I’d gone without a condom. I closed my eyes because I had the sense of losing consciousness, and I literally struggled and had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from erupting. I felt your slickness all around me, and my cock throbbed as blood coursed through it. Let’s just say in all my life, nothing sexually will ever compare to the moment I first entered you bare.

  As I ground into you, you pushed backward from the counter. The friction made it deeper, tighter. I could sense my dick start to swell as your sex constricted around me.

  I came so hard I almost saw stars. Our release was evident as it dripped down your legs. I wanted to kneel and revel in the merging of us. I felt your body slipping, and I curved my arm around you to keep you steady. I’d knocked women off their feet before, but, babe, not literally.

  You appeared surprised I cleaned you up. I’d never had to before, and if I had my way, I would have probably kept you covered in the evidence. I could see hesitation on your face. You always overanalyzed things, especially us being together. It lasted briefly, and I watched as you whipped the dress over your head, tossing it to the floor. God, you looked beautiful, all pure and virginal in white. I promised you a very long night of fucking. Oh, I might say fucking, but in reality, I would forever be making love to you. It was that night I think you finally mentally relented and knew this might be more than just us having sex.

  §

  “So what did you think of the first time we made love bare story?” I look over at Ryan and secretly promise anything, including my eternal soul, if she will just answer me. “I have to tell you, Ry, one of my happiest memories is when yo
u let me have your ass. Okay, I know. Probably not the time to mention this, but that memory alone is historic. Want to know why? Because you gave me something no one else had. No one will ever touch you there except me. I was the only one you ever let cross that threshold. Don’t laugh. I realize husbands normally get cologne for Father’s Day, but anal—best gift ever.” I chuckle.

  §

  I know talking about our sex life while you’re in a coma is probably inappropriate on so many levels. We’ve experienced so many carnal things. Sometimes I feel closest to you when I can give voice to those details. Recalling our intimacy gives me comfort. But, Ryan, you and I have so much more than sex. I wish I had the balls to talk about our marriage, Holly, and us having a son. All of those things bring me contentment but cause me emotional fear. I’m so afraid. Those events are like scabs to me. If I pick at them long enough, I’ll bleed internally. The only relief I get is from recanting our past.

  I’m sorry, but the present, right now… it’s too fucking painful. Remembering what we had sexually is my coping mechanism because I’m an immature ass. Please forgive me. There are things I need to figure out.

  I should create some alternative plan. I’m begging you right now; don’t make me contemplate a backup plan. Don’t you ask me to do that, baby. I can’t. You have to know that. No matter what, you have always been the stronger person in this relationship. Yeah, I talk a good game, but we were never equals and we never discussed this. Jesus, Ryan, we’re not supposed to talk about death until we get older. Please, I don’t want to plan a life without you. I can’t do it.

  ~10~

  I knew from the beginning that you wanted our relationship shrouded in secret. I could see it in your face. You always had that look of indecision. I knew you cared about me; there was no debate in my mind concerning that. But you still were worried about what people would think. You didn’t want my mother to know, or our work. Hell, you wanted to keep me—us—hidden away. It bothered me. I have to be honest. Women normally enjoyed showing me off, so I was floored when you made it blatantly obvious we should keep us concealed.

  You seemed apprehensive when I brought up visiting your old stomping grounds. Nasty’s was the bar you frequented thirteen years ago. Not any place that should have caused you worries. Their clientele wasn’t judgmental. You were so hesitant, so guarded when I brought up actually going out on a real date. After imagining you in my life for thirteen years, I had no intentions of keeping you my secret. I suppose you could have kept me tied to the bed and had your way with me. There would have been no complaints, but I wanted to take you out. I wanted to show off my girl.

  We almost had an argument that night. It would have been our first. But what I didn’t comprehend was it wouldn’t be our last. You left me feeling extremely insecure, as though you were embarrassed. I suppose I understood why you were reluctant to have certain people find out about us, but not this. I couldn’t fathom why it mattered if strangers in a bar saw us together. Obviously¸ if I’d known what secret you harbored, we would have stayed in. Putting you in danger had never been part of my plan. God, that was the first time since you returned that you deeply wounded me. It felt odd. I wasn’t used to not being wanted.

  You finally came around. And I couldn’t wait to pick you up and take you out—on a real date. When I walked in the door, that happy feeling I’d just felt one minute before vanished—without a trace. Evidently along with your clothes. Jesus, were you trying to piss me off or wind me up? Sure, it was hot-as-hell attire for any other female. But not MY woman. That fucking fuzzy pink sweater wasn’t only tight, but also tiny. It appeared to me you shrunk it in the dryer—on purpose. It had a neckline so low it was a beacon—I swear—pointing straight to your pussy. And while I’m on that subject. Your jeans were so tight I could see your lips separated into two parts. And I’m not referring to the ones on your pretty face. I got so stiff my zipper began biting into my cock. I was right; your outfit was a signal. It was a spotlight for every man and even some chicks to look at you. To want you.

  Not just hell no. But fuck NO.

  No matter how pissed I looked, you wouldn’t change. Clearly, you knew your choice of apparel wasn’t appreciated. Oh, I personally appreciated it. So much I almost had second thoughts about date night and considered just fucking you here in the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, and possibly in the bath if we got that far. Between the ache in my jeans and the headache you were giving me, I had no alternative but to accept your lack of clothing.

  We finally left after I bundled you up in a heavy jacket. True, it was freezing outside—thank you, Alaska. But if I had my way, that jacket would be staying on all night. When we got to Nasty’s, I got us drinks while having small talk with the owner, Cray, at the bar. He walked me back to our table, and you appeared surprised to see him.

  It had been thirteen years, and even though he came across as a dirty old man, Cray was a good guy. He stayed and chatted for a few minutes, then went back to tending bar.

  I loved sitting in the booth, having drinks and listening to music while I held your hand. Yeah, it seemed like such a minor thing, but, Ry, it meant everything to me. We were out. People saw us. No one laughed or made comments. I was probably considered the luckiest man on the planet because I had such a beautiful woman on my arm.

  I meant it when I told you no one would know. I looked older and you definitely looked younger than your age. I even brought up the fact that Christmas Eve, I would be twenty-two. And of course, you had to remind me as I aged, you got older too. The age difference ate away at you. I never understood the logic behind why it was such a huge deal for you. Yes, I know I’m the kid you used to babysit. Jesus, if I had a nickel for every time you said it or even thought it, I could retire at thirty.

  I’m telling you the God’s honest truth. It never mattered to me. We were just another couple, having drinks and conversation, out for the evening. Of course, I didn’t realize there would be a wrench in our path to happiness.

  Fucking Carrie. Of course, she was the wrench. I really wished I could have foreseen it coming. If I’d handled her differently, not been unkind, been more understanding—but I wasn’t going to let anything or anyone get in the way of my route to you. Maybe if I’d been more responsible and recognized her obsessive feelings toward me, this wouldn’t be happening. I never told you how much I believed in cause and effect, did I?

  I had no idea how vindictive Carrie was. She’d never acted jealous before, but that night she was out of control. I knew she’d had too much to drink. That was obvious by her slurred speech and staggered walk. The way she acted, I felt embarrassed for her and myself. You were sitting right there, and she behaved as though you were invisible. I’m not a confrontational guy, and I certainly had no intentions of creating a scene, but that was her plan. She wanted the attention. The sympathy. She was talking crazy. I gently asked her to stop, but she’d lost all restraint. Carrie asked me directly what you had that she didn’t. I couldn’t lie anymore. I told her I loved you, always had.

  I remember so clearly. Carrie lashed out. She desperately wanted to hurt me. When she told me you would never love me, that I was just a kid you would grow tired of, her words gouged me deeply because I knew what she said had merit and might be true. But I didn’t care. It was too late for me. I was in so deep; I’d never be able to crawl to the surface again. And the truth was I didn’t want to. Wherever the chips fell, I would suffer the consequences.

  Carrie was trying to twist that knife deeper, until you spoke up. You said you did love me. Words never held as much power as when you wielded them. I had no idea if what you said was true or if you said it to shut her up. I didn’t care. Just to have my ears hear “I do love him” from your lips was enough. My heart didn’t care if it was lie.

  She left after that, and I coaxed you out to the dance floor. We fit so perfectly, you and me. I might have been a foot taller, but our bodies were like puzzle pieces. I’d never known such happiness
in my life. I loved you so much in that moment. I wished I’d told you how much. Did you know by the warmth of my body, the thickness of my shaft pressing against you, and my warm breath whispering the lyrics of the song into your ear? Could you sense how much the word love was understated when I tried to tell you how I felt?

  When we got back to the booth, I knew we had to leave soon. Your confession lit such a fire in me, if we weren’t in public, I would have bent you over the table. I had to be inside you—and soon.

  You knew. Oh, little girl, how you could tease. I stroked the crease of your jeans under the table. You answered it by squeezing my thigh and palming your hand against my painful hard-on. You appeared amused at my discomfort. And I planned to pay you back, big time. I made you walk in front of me as we headed toward the door. It was snowing and the temperature had dipped into single digits. I made you stay inside while I got the car. I wanted you warm and comfortable for what I had planned.

  You seemed overly concerned about my well-being and my erection because it was so cold. Let me think… Something about me being a mail carrier and always delivering. No truer words have ever been spoken. I couldn’t wait to get you home and get you out of those skintight pants and deliver. My tongue ached for you.

  I think I was salivating by the time we got to your couch. I barely had time to start a fire. Once I got your boots off, I stripped you of those tight-ass jeans. I left on your sweater as I pulled mine off. You unzipped my jeans and watched as the head of my dick made its appearance. I was so aroused my precum began to dampen your thigh. I could smell how much you wanted me, and I felt the wetness as I slipped down your panties and swiped my tongue across your seam once, then stopped.