Breathe Her In Read online

  “And you believe that, Char?”

  She shrugs, going back to her lunch. I gather up my belongings and walk to the back of the cafeteria. Various versions of my name are being called as I make my way back to the table where he’s sitting, but I don’t stop to talk to anyone.

  As soon as he notices me, I’m hit with the unfriendliest look I’ve ever seen. I’ve never had anyone scowl at me. I put down my backpack and partially eaten lunch before sitting down in the seat opposite from him. Hands trembling, I stick one out in his direction.

  I plant the biggest smile on my face that I can muster. “Hi. I’m Eleanor Benson.”

  He just stares at my outstretched hand. I leave it up, shaking, until it becomes painfully clear that he’s not going to take it or introduce himself. I tuck it safely back into my lap.

  “I think we have a few classes together. Welcome to Oakwood.”

  More staring. His eyes are so harsh, but there’s sadness hiding behind all that hardness. The purple, fading bruises around them don’t help. I clear my throat, forget all about my lunch spread out before me, and ramble for the remainder of our lunch period.

  He never says a word.

  The next day, I find myself back at his table, my biggest and brightest smile across my face.

  “Hi, Rafe.” I get settled in the seat across from him and take a sip from my bottle of water.

  “Hi, Eleanor,” he grunts.

  I choke on the cold liquid, not expecting to hear his voice. I had convinced myself he didn’t talk.

  “Are you alright?” he asks. He’s come around to my side of the small table and is patting me awkwardly on the back.

  “You actually speak?”

  “Yeah. You don’t really give anyone a chance. Do you always talk this much?” he asks, his mouth turning up slightly in one corner.

  My insides turn to mush. I can’t wait to see how he looks when he actually smiles. “Usually. Are you always so quiet?”

  He just looks at me and takes a huge bite from his sandwich.

  “Well, this friendship will work out great, then. I can do all the talking for us.”

  He puts his sandwich down on the brown paper bag, hitting me with those eerie eyes. I think he’s trying to scare me, but he just fascinates me. “Friendship? Who said anything about being friends?”

  “I did.”

  “I don’t need any friends, Eleanor.”

  “That’s just silly. Everyone needs friends.”

  3. Rafe

  “Now’s really not a good time,” I whisper, turning away from Della. She just fell back asleep after a whopper of a nightmare. I can only assume it’s from being back at school. Any change in routine or environment will trigger them. Hell, even a certain smell or noise will trigger them sometimes.

  “Well, you better make it a good time, Matthews. You got about ten minutes to get ready.”

  “I can’t leave Della alone.”

  “I’m on patrol tonight. I’ll swing by and keep an eye on her.”

  “Fuck that. It’s never gonna happen.”

  “Come on, Rafe. Who better to leave her with than an upstanding officer of the law?”

  “You’re a piece of shit, Ford. Give me half an hour to find someone to get over here.”

  Della’s got an iron grip on me so it takes me a few minutes and some creativity to extract myself from her grasp. I throw on some shoes and call Declan.

  “This better be good.”

  “I need you to come over and keep an eye on Della.”

  “At one in the morning?”

  I hate when he starts this shit. “Don’t ask me any questions, Dec.”

  He huffs, placing his hand over the receiver. I can hear a muffled conversation and a woman’s squeals before he comes back on the line.

  “Rafe, I don’t know what’s going on, but if any of this touches the shop, my dad will have your ass.”

  I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. I can’t let this part of my life touch anyone.

  This part of my life makes me sick.

  But it can’t be helped.

  If I don’t do this, I don’t have Della.

  Richard Ford has me by the balls.

  He owns me.

  “Come on, man. Can you get over here, or do I need to call your brother?”

  “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  Standing in the doorway to my bedroom, I watch Della’s back rise and fall with each breath. It’s because of her that I made a deal with the devil three years ago. This messed up relationship I have with Ford goes way back. I would like nothing more than to be done with that asshole, but if I didn’t work for him, Della would be back in hell.

  I’ll do anything to keep her safe.

  “You can go, man, I’m here,” Declan whispers from behind me. We walk a few feet into the kitchen.

  “She just had a really bad one, so she should be passed out for the rest of the night. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  He turns back from the fridge, a beer in hand, and I know what’s coming. I can read him like a fucking book. “Rafe, I don’t know-”

  I put my hand up. “Don’t do this.”

  He shakes his head as I shut the door on him.

  I may have gotten Della out of hell, but we’re only one step up from it. I make money at the shop and from Ford, and sell a bit of art on the side, but her therapy bills are killing me. We live in a shitty part of town. Sucks to raise a kid in, but it’s convenient for what I have to do when Ford calls and I have to come running like his little bitch.

  I walk a few blocks to the abandoned house where we meet. I can taste the blood pooling in my mouth from clamping down on my cheeks. It’s either that or punching him in the face, which wouldn’t go over too well.

  “Got the kid covered?”

  I get in his face. “Della isn’t your concern. Don’t bring her into this.”

  He smiles, spitting at my feet. “Oh, but she’s the whole reason you come runnin’ when I call. You need to remember that. I can take her from you with one fucking phone call to OCS, Rafe. Watch your tone with me or my fingers might get twitchy.”

  My jaw tenses and my teeth bite down harder on the inside of my cheeks, drawing more blood, reminding me that he’s right. The fucked-up relationship I have with this piece of shit cop is all to keep Della safe.

  “What do I need to do?”

  He pulls a clear bag from his pocket, filled with smaller baggies of pills. “Oxy. My guy’s waiting on the corner of Washington and 14th. He’s new, so he might be a little tweaked. Don’t spook him. Feel free to sample. There’s a few extra in there.”

  “You know I don’t touch that shit.”

  He just shrugs. “Suit yourself, but you don’t know what you’re missing. I’ll be by in the morning to get the cash. Should I come to the house or by the shop?”

  “Stay away from the shop. The money will be in the usual spot in the kitchen. I’ll be gone in the morning.” I wait a few beats. “I get thirty percent of this one.”

  “Bullshit, Rafe. Twenty.”

  “I’m assuming the only reason you’re dealing with a newbie is because he’s gonna lead you to bigger and better things. I want a bigger cut.”

  His smile widens, revealing his tobacco-stained teeth. “Ah, Rafe, you know me so well. This guy’s small, but he’s got some big connections. Play nice. I want his friends. I nail these guys, the DTF will be kissing my ass and giving me that promotion I’m after.”

  I can’t help but shake my head, a gruff laugh escaping. If only the Drug Task Force knew that one of their officers was slinging more dope than some of the bastards they put behind bars. “You want these guys, give me my thirty percent. Not just on this, but from here on out. You know I can get you what you need. I still have a wide reach.”

  “Sure does come in handy that your momma was such a drug-addled whore, using you like she did. You made some real good friends, Rafe.”

  As much as he’s right, it still
doesn’t diminish the fact that I want to punch him in the throat.

  “Thirty percent?” I ask again, ready to get the fuck out of here.

  “Yeah. Now go. I’ll be by in the morning.”

  He leaves, and I wait a few minutes before I take off to find this new guy. Ford and I can’t be seen in the same vicinity. People on the street know that they can come to me when they need anything. It’s been that way since I was a kid and my crack head momma was making me run drugs for her. Thanks to her, I have a rap sheet as long as I am tall. If you can smoke it, inject it, or snort it, I can get it for you. It’s always been that way. These guys think they can trust me. What they don’t know is that I’m getting my shit from one of the dirtiest cops in town. He wants money, but more importantly, he wants intel. I play nice, act like I’m on their side, and then I help Ford nail some of the biggest dealers on the street. They never suspect a thing.

  Being a rat for a dirty cop wasn’t something I set out to do. Raising Dells, marking people with my ink, all while slinging dope and informing for a crooked cop were not in the plans. But fate had other ideas.

  I’m stuck. Ford’s got me and I can’t get out. I do this for him, making us both a chunk of change in the process and getting assholes off the street, or I lose Della and she’s back in hell. The money’s nice, but I’m not doing it for that. I’m doing it because he’s fucking blackmailing me. I can’t stop, even if I wanted to. There’s nothing I want more than to stop being at his beck and call, but I sold my soul to him three years ago and I don’t know that I’ll ever get it back.

  Every deal I make, every time I take my life in my hands by ratting someone out, I have to remind myself that it’s for Della. If I tell Ford I want out, he makes one call to Child Services, has my records reexamined, and she goes back to where she was, or into the system, a ward of the state. I can’t do that to her. We only know small snippets of what she went through before I had custody… Della drew explicit pictures and wrote things that made me violently ill. If I didn’t know better, if I wasn’t a product of that type of environment myself, I would think she made it up. But no child has the capability of coming up with those sorts of atrocities on their own.

  I go to Washington Street, make my deal, and get the fuck home. This is getting old. I want out. I don’t know if it’s the reappearance of Eleanor, or the fact that I know that eventually this is all going to go south, but I want my life back.

  4. Eleanor

  “You do know that you don’t have to walk her to the classroom every morning, right?” I ask Rafe. Every morning for the past two weeks, like clockwork, he shows up, usually with a cup of my favorite kind of coffee in hand. He just says good morning, gets Della settled, and leaves. I love spending time with Della before I pick up my other students from the playground, but seeing him gets me all discombobulated. It’s so tiring, trying to keep my feelings under wraps first thing when I get to work. I don’t know what game he’s playing; I just know I don’t want any part of it.

  “Nice flowers,” he says, completely ignoring me.

  “Thanks.”

  “Are they yours or Ms. Cole’s?”

  “Mine,” I absentmindedly mumble.

  Before I can stop him, he’s at the vase, plucking the card from the pronged holder and reading the message. “Happy Six Months, Ella. All my love, Tristan.”

  “Rafe,” I shout, yanking the card from his hand. He’s got me by the wrist, pulling me close to his body… closer than I can handle this morning. He’s never been one to mind things like personal space, but this invasion is doing things to me today that I can’t take.

  “What the fuck kind of name is Tristan?” he asks, staring right into my eyes. The coldness is gone from his and he’s bypassed the warmth… they’ve gone straight to blazing. Most people would be scared, but I’m just pissed off.

  Pissed off and turned on.

  “Gee, Rafe, I don’t know. Let go of me,” I demand, but he doesn’t listen. He must know it’s not a sincere request.

  My eyes shoot to Della, but she’s steady scribbling away in her journal. She’s got a snarky side, I’ve come to learn. She’s not looking at us, but she’s probably documenting a play by play of this entirely inappropriate episode in her little purple notebook where she writes down everything.

  “Six whole months. Wow,” he teases, my wrist still in his grasp. He’s not being rough, and I’m sure I could get out of it, but if feels too damn good to have him touching me again. My resolve is melting as the seconds pass. I like being close to him, surrounded by his warmth and his scent, even though it’s all kinds of wrong. “I’m guessing from his pompous rich boy name that this is one of Daddy’s co-workers. Is it serious?”

  “How is this any of your business?”

  That was obviously the wrong thing to say. “I made it my business when you came strolling into Ink Addiction in your little fuck-hot shoes asking about Della.”

  “I went there because I’m her teacher,” I hiss. “I didn’t go looking for you.” Even though I’ve wanted to look for you for the past eight years, my traitorous brain adds.

  He leans in close, his nose almost touching mine. Our chests are heaving, touching with each shaky inhale. “Well, you found me. I think we need to do something about that.”

  He’s so close. I only have to tilt my head up slightly and I could have my lips on his.

  In my classroom.

  With his daughter a few feet away.

  Whom I teach.

  I want it so bad. The past eight years have felt like an eternity. It’s just not going to happen, though. I can’t let it. “There’s nothing to do. I’m your daughter’s teacher, and I have a boyfriend.”

  “She’s not my daughter.”

  I stare at him, letting his words bounce around my mind for a few seconds as I try to make sense of them. I don’t think I understand.

  “What?”

  “Della’s not my daughter. Not in the way you think.”

  All of the air is sucked from the room with that one sentence. I feel myself sagging against Rafe’s chest, feel his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me from hitting the floor.

  “Breathe, Eleanor,” he whispers, running his hand up and down my back. “In and out,” he chants, his voice low and reminiscent of the past.

  I look up from his chest and search his face, search for some sort of explanation for the bomb he just dropped.

  “She’s my sister,” he continues. “I’m her guardian. When I, um,” he winces, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “When I came back home and found out about her, I knew I had to get her away from my mother. I have sole custody of her. She’s been mine for the last three years.”

  I’m in a state of disbelief, reeling from the bomb he’s just dropped. I don’t even realize I’m crying until I feel the rough pads of Rafe’s thumbs passing under my eyes, wiping away my hot tears.

  “I thought… when I saw her… she’s old enough that…” I can’t even form a coherent sentence. This was one of my last defenses against Rafe. His betrayal of what we had was keeping me from losing myself to him again. But there was no betrayal. He didn’t do that to me.

  Recognition of the conclusions I drew register on his face. “Jesus Christ, Eleanor.” His eyes, full of heat and something else that I haven’t seen in eight long years, are boring holes into mine. “I would have never done that to you. You were it for me.” His voice grows gentle, matching the softness in his eyes. “You were my entire goddamn world.”

  “But you still left me,” I whisper, the words burning my insides as they leave my mouth. I back away, turning so he can’t see just how much he’s hurting me.

  “Eleanor,” he starts, reaching for me, but Hadley comes in, on time for work for once in the two years I’ve worked with her.

  “Good Morning,” she sings, eyes darting back and forth between the two of us.

  “Hey,” I tell her, avoiding her gaze. “I need to run to the office to make some
copies. Will you keep an eye on Della? Rafe was just leaving.”

  “Sure,” she says.

  I dart out of the room, and it’s quite obvious I’m not going to make copies. My hands are empty and tears are streaming down my face.

  ___

  This was the longest day… avoiding the stares and questions from Hadley was not easy, considering we teach all day in the same space. She made it clear that she knows something is going on between me and Rafe, and she’s not happy that I haven’t shared it with her. We might be best friends, but it hurts too much to talk about my past. I can give her pieces of it, though, without revealing it all.

  Dragging my weary body up the steps of the t-building where my friends are gathered, I give myself a mental pep talk. I’m about to face the firing squad, so to speak. We may have to forego the afternoon workout and head to The Red Magnolia instead. This story goes much better with cocktails.

  “Hey, Fancy,” Caroline calls out when I throw open the door to her classroom. She’s one half of the duo that teaches in the t-building, or the cottage, as we like to call it. We always meet in her room after school to work out. Clearly, I won’t be exercising today… I’m still in my heels and a dress.

  “Why aren’t you ready?” Laurel asks, her eyes scanning my body. “You look like you just stepped off a movie set. You’re the only person I know that teaches while channeling her inner Audrey Hepburn.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re one to talk.” Laurel’s always decked out, head to toe. Her idea of Casual Friday is wedges instead of stilettos.

  “I don’t have to teach… I just have to watch you lovely ladies do it all day.”

  “Hadley said you had a rough day,” Bren butts in. “I take it we’re drinking instead of working out?”

  I nod my head, thankful that Bren caught on. I don’t have to say a word or twist any arms. This is why I love my friends. They shoot up from their seats around the room.

  “The Magnolia?”

  “Yeah,” I call. I’m already out the building, heading out the gate toward my car.