Breathe Her In Page 9

  I sit up so I can see his face in the moonlight. “We both have things to be sorry for- regrets from the past. Things that we need to talk about. But let’s not do it tonight. Right now, let’s just sit here on our blanket, in this place, and enjoy being together.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Can we do that, Rafe? Can we have this one night before we dredge up the ugly? Please?” I’m terrified that once we have that conversation, we’ll never be the same. We’ll never get back to the perfection of this night.

  “Anything you want, Eleanor.”

  We sit under the dark cover of night, basking in each other’s company, feasting on the decadent chocolate cake from Salvatore’s, and pretending that the tragedies from all those years ago never happened.

  11. Rafe

  The sight of her coming down that dirt path knocks the air out of my lungs. She has that effect on me every damn time I see her. I take her in, from her dark hair falling around her shoulders in thick waves, to her pretty little pink party dress, to her shit-hot high heels. Only Eleanor Benson would come to meet me in a park in the middle of the night dressed like that. She looks like she should be on the cover of a magazine, not in a clearing behind a playground.

  And certainly not meeting up with the likes of me. I’ll never understand it. Over the years I’ve learned to stop questioning it, and not to take advantage of it, but I’ll never get used to the fact that this perfect girl is all mine.

  She throws her head back and laughs, the sound ringing through the balmy night air. “Did you do all this for me?”

  “Nope,” I tell her, pulling her into my chest. “It’s for my other girlfriend, but you showed up first.”

  She slaps my arm and chuckles right into my mouth, just before she melts into my kiss. The playful kiss takes on a different tone as soon as our tongues start their slow dance with each other. Our hands start exploring, our breaths become labored, and I force myself to ease away.

  “How was your party?”

  “Ugh,” she groans, pushing her head into my chest. “It was awful. This is much better.” Her eyes scan the area, taking in the changes in our spot, from the small candles I added around the edge of the blanket to the paper lanterns hanging from the trees. “I got away as soon as I could, but my father’s colleagues tend to linger over brandy and cigars.”

  I roll my eyes at the thought of the pompous bastards. “How was your mom?” It’s been a while since she’s seen her, and I knew it would be hard for her.

  “She and Dad were too busy fighting and knocking back drinks to really pay much attention to me. It all stopped, of course, when their guests arrived. Then it was a competition, you know, of who could outshine the other. It was really sickening.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her, leading her to sit in the middle of our blanket.

  “How was your night?”

  You would think that it would have been special, seeing as how I graduated from high school, but it was really no different from any other night. My mother wasn’t sober enough to even acknowledge the fact that her only son finished school... a feat she never managed. She never left the bedroom when I took off for the ceremony earlier this evening. At least Claire and her family were there. I wasn’t expecting the tightness in my chest or the wetness in my eyes at the sight of Claire and her crew in the stands of my school’s auditorium. My dinner with them tomorrow night will be the last time I see the Brennan family for a while, and it’s not sitting well with me. They have been more of a family than my own flesh and blood ever have. It’s going to kill me to leave them next week, but I’d do anything for Eleanor. She’s worth any pain and suffering I have to endure.

  I’d walk through hell and back for my Eleanor.

  “Typical night,” I finally answer. There’s no need to elaborate. She knows enough to know that ‘typical’ is nothing good.

  “Well, I say we have our own celebration.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  She kicks off her shoes and crawls into my lap. “Do you realize that in exactly one week we’ll be gone?”

  “Are you still okay with that?” I ask, even though the happiness radiating in her eyes is letting me know she’s more than okay with our decision. We’ve been planning it for a year, but now that the time has come, I don’t want her to have second thoughts.

  “Absolutely. I can’t wait to leave.”

  “This is gonna be so good for us, baby.”

  “I know,” she says, threading her fingers through my hair. “I want you away from this place.” She gives a tiny squeeze, punctuating her words. “Just think, no more sneaking around, no more separation, no more wondering where you’ve gone.”

  “We’ll never be separated again, Eleanor, I promise. Just bear with me for one more week, and then I’m yours. Forever.”

  “I love the sound of that.”

  She stands up and I miss the heat of her body immediately. With the blink of an eye, her soft pink dress is off, revealing two scraps of matching lace underneath. I growl and lunge for her, but she scoots away from my grasp, stripping out of the barely-there lace all together.

  “One more week, Rafe, and we can make love in a bed, instead of on this blanket.”

  “I love this blanket.”

  She smiles, never taking her eyes off me as I peel off my shirt and my jeans. She may look like an angel, but a wicked smirk takes over her face when my clothes come off.

  “Come here, Eleanor,” I demand. I’m not in the mood for her teasing. It’s been too long. I need to be inside of her.

  She drops down and, fuck me, crawls over to where I’m standing on the edge of the blanket. I get down to my knees and pull her up to meet me, one hand around her waist, the other in that gorgeous dark hair, and kiss her like my life depends on it.

  Our mouths are hot, demanding, dueling with each other. It’s a messy, frantic, heated flurry of kisses, fueled by our exploring hands. Her breathy mewls and sighs have me laying us down on the blanket in an instant, covering her delicate body with mine.

  “Rafe,” she whispers, my name passing over her lips as a prayer, a benediction, a promise.

  “I love you, Eleanor,” I whisper as I push into her body.

  We gasp, eyes locking on each other, frozen in the moment. I can’t move yet. We stare, take each other in, until she begs me to move. I always wait for her pleas.

  “Please, Rafe,” she exhales, her hands clutching my sides.

  I give her what she wants. My movements start out slow, dragging in and out of her at a torturous pace, until I start to feel her clamping down around me, a silent request for more. Only then do I give it to her faster, harder, and wilder, exactly how she wants. My name leaves her over and over, desperate, needy, feral. I swallow the sounds, kissing her until it becomes too hard to keep my mouth on hers through the rough movements.

  Her body starts to quiver, and my name transforms, turning into different variations of ‘Oh God’ and ‘please’, her nails scoring stinging paths up and down my back. I tilt her hips slightly, pull her leg up, and my Eleanor erupts with a powerful orgasm. She cries out my name, sending it out into the darkness, and I kiss her to quiet the sounds. I hold her, whispering sentiments of love, and we finalize our plans for leaving next week.

  If I would have known that was the last time I would lay with my sweet Eleanor like this, I would have held on a little tighter. I would have whispered ‘I love you’ one more time. I would have made love to her again before we parted ways, taking off in opposite directions into the night.

  I would have done a lot differently.

  ___

  “Looks like somebody got laid last night,” Thomas calls as soon as I push through the doors.

  “Shut the fuck up, Tommy.” I’m not interested in his bullshit this morning.

  “Seriously. You should see your face right now. You’re all glowy and shit. Just like a woman.”

  “I don’t have to get laid to be happy.”

  “Christ, Ra
fe, you sound like a pussy. What’s goin’ on with you?”

  I want to punch him in the face. I should have done it at Claire’s when I had the chance. He doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.

  “Nothin’,” I grumble, walking over to the books to check my appointments for the day.

  “I came by last night to grab a beer but you and Della Doo were gone.” He’s right on my heels. “Checked at Mamma C’s, but you weren’t there, either. Where were you?”

  “Out.”

  “With your sister?”

  “Yup.”

  “Where were you, Rafe?” he asks again. I study those books like my life depends on it, my jaw so tight I could grind my molars into dust, but he keeps pushing. “This have anything to do with the hot teacher you got your panties in a wad over the other night?”

  I look up from the book and he backs up until his legs hit the chair. I guess my irritation is obvious. “Are you really gonna start this shit again?”

  “Are you really goin’ after your sister’s teacher?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “You gonna fuckin’ clue me in?” he asks, his face morphing into something not too happy. Despite the fact that he’s irritating the hell out of me, he’s my best friend. He and Declan have been there for me for years, just like the rest of their family has. I owe it to him to explain what’s going on.

  “Wait for your brother, and I’ll lay it out for you.”

  “This is fucked up,” he grumbles under his breath as he heads back up front.

  The morning flies by, thanks to a full appointment book. I lose myself in the buzz of my tattoo gun and the blur of ink. When lunch rolls around Thomas and Declan are in my doorway, ready for me to spill my guts in some bullshit sharing session about Eleanor.

  “The Magnolia?” I ask.

  “Let’s go.”

  This story would go down much better with alcohol, but we’ve all got appointments after lunch, so we stick with iced tea. My two best friends sit across the table from me at The Red Magnolia, matching expressions of shock and awe on their identical faces, as I tell them about my past with Eleanor. I give it all to them, from meeting her in that crowded cafeteria, to falling in love with her in a clearing in the woods, and finally to our tragic separation the night we were supposed to run away together.

  “This is fucking crazy.”

  “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “Both of you know that I wasn’t keen on sharing shit with you.” I think back to that time in my life, when I had nothing but her, and I shake my head back and forth. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell anyone about her. I was terrified I would lose her.”

  “You lost her anyway,” Dec says, pointing out the painful obviousness of my current situation.

  “And now you’ve got her back,” Thomas teases, “but it’s some hot student-teacher romance that’ll land your ass on the five-o’clock news if you’re not careful.”

  Declan’s hand connects with the back of his head before mine can.

  “I’m not her student, dumbass. I’m the sibling of one of her students. This is completely different. It’s probably not even an issue.”

  “But it could be.”

  “Maybe. We’re keeping it quiet.”

  “How’s Dells feel about big brother cozyin’ up to her teacher?”

  “She hasn’t voiced her opinion on the matter.”

  “Don’t be an ass, Rafe. I’m serious.”

  “I’m serious, too, Dec. We haven’t discussed it yet. I’m sure it’s coming, but for right now, Eleanor and I are taking this one day at a time.”

  “Don’t fuck this up. Della’s guaranteed teacher’s pet status if you keep the hot teacher happy.”

  French fries simultaneously hit Tommy’s face from both ends of the table. He can be such an ass.

  The rest of lunch is spent discussing my upcoming art show at Landon’s gallery, new ink that the twins want me to put on them, and their trip to Ireland with Finn and Maggie in a few months. All talk of Eleanor is dropped, but she stays on my mind the rest of the meal.

  ___

  Later that night, after dinner at Claire’s, when Della and I are engrossed in our art, I decide to bring up my relationship status with Eleanor. I don’t quite know how to broach the subject. I haven’t exactly brought women around her, but I haven’t been a monk, either. Eleanor’s the first woman that will be a constant in my life.

  Della’s paint brush is moving along her canvas, creating a blur of color. I can’t tell what it is yet, but she’s just started on this piece. The potential of it is already evident through the few simple strokes and color choices.

  “Dells, do you remember on your first day of school when I told you Eleanor and I used to be friends?”

  The movements of her brush never stop, but I get an affirmative nod of her head.

  “Well, we were friends, but over the years we became more than friends. She was my girlfriend.” With that one word, the brush stops. Della’s face turns to mine, her dark eyes wide with curiosity. I wish she’d keep her eyes on the canvas. This feels very awkward now. “We were in love,” I say slowly, and a huge smile breaks out across her face. “I had to leave, and I, uh, I guess you could say we broke up. I didn’t see her for eight years.”

  Della drops the paint brush on the tray of her easel, her fingers cutting through the air, signing I’m eight.

  “Yes, that’s how long I went without seeing her- as long as you’ve been alive.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and force out some air. Why is this so difficult? “Anyway, how would you feel if Eleanor and I started seeing each other again?”

  My sister’s face scrunches up, causes little wrinkles to form between her eyebrows.

  “How would you feel if Eleanor was my girlfriend? Would that be okay with you? She’s important to me, Della, but not as important as you. Nothing in this world is as important to me as you. You come first.”

  I get a small nod, coupled with a huge hug. She stays in my hold for several minutes. I absorb it, pulling in all of this little girl’s love. I never stopped loving Eleanor Benson, not for one second of those eight long years, but I meant what I said to my sister… she comes first. I don’t know what I would have done if Della would have moved her head from left to right instead of up and down when I asked if it was okay for us to date, but I’m glad I don’t have to figure that out.

  Della’s breath pushes against my neck as she lets out a huge yawn. “Tired?”

  Instead of an answer, she slips off my lap and pads to her bedroom, picking a book off the bookcase before getting settled into bed. I scoot in next to her on the narrow twin mattress, reading half of the tattered book before her eyes close and she drifts off to sleep.

  Just as I’m leaving her room, my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. My jaw tenses, and I pray it’s not Ford. I can’t deal with him tonight. When I see Eleanor’s name flash across the screen I relax and answer right away.

  “Were your ears burnin’?”

  “Were you talking about me, Rafe?” her sleepy voice asks.

  “I just had a conversation with my sister about you. Well, about us.”

  “And?”

  “She’s given us her seal of approval.”

  “That’s good. How was your day?”

  “Good. Busy. What about you? You sound tired.”

  A small laugh comes through the phone. I step outside, bringing a beer and a cigarette with me. I allow myself to smoke one or two a day, but never around Della.

  “Teaching second graders all day is no easy feat. I’m ready for the weekend.”

  “How about I let Dells stay with Finn and Maggie Saturday night? Maggie’s been after me for a sleepover. We can have one of our own.”

  I expect her to jump on my offer, but she stays quiet for a minute. “Rafe,” she finally gives in lieu of an answer, her voice heavy. I don’t want to hear excuses or denials of my request.

  “No pressure, and no expect
ations,” I tell her before she can refuse me, even though I have a million expectations. I want so much with Eleanor that it’s bearing down on me, weighing heavy on my chest. “Just a night of no interruptions and no clock counting down when we have to end it.”

  “We still have so many things left to talk about.”

  The sadness in her voice is like a knife to my heart. I can take a lot, but that’s not something that’s easy for me to deal with. “I know. We can talk Saturday.”

  “The things we need to discuss don’t exactly scream ‘date night’.” She just grabbed that knife and gave it a few firm twists, digging it further into my battered heart.

  Stubbing my cigarette out, I immediately reach for another. This conversation warrants two. “I don’t think there’s ever gonna be a good time to have the talk we need to have, baby. We need to do it sooner rather than later, though, if we want to move forward. You with me?”

  It sounds like she’s shifting in the bed, getting settled in for the night. “Yeah, Rafe, I’m with you.”

  “Good. Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning. If you promise me a kiss, I’ll even bring you some coffee.”

  There’s that lazy laugh again. “I can do that. Goodnight, Rafe.”

  “Sweet dreams, Eleanor.”

  12. Eleanor

  Coffee in hand, Della by my side, I take off down the hallway to get the other students from the playground. Before I’m even halfway there, I run smack dab into Tristan. The high I’m experiencing from my morning visit from Rafe evaporates in an instant.

  “Good morning, Ella.” His eyes rake up and down my body. I feel like I need to scrub myself clean. Either that, or poke his eyes out.

  Della grips the back of my shirt and pushes behind me. Her chest is rising and falling quickly, her breaths audible through the noise in the hallway. The onset of her attacks have become quite recognizable, and if I catch them early enough I can sometimes stop them without getting her brother involved. I turn around and take her face in my hands, making sure I have eye contact before speaking. My voice is slow and steady, despite the fact that my heart is beating wildly against my chest, echoing through my head. It always does when Della is on edge like this.