Page 48 of When We Breathe
“Where are you going?”
“I’m winning back our girl.”
Chapter Nineteen
ALEX
Ihaven’t left the bed in almost twenty-four hours.
I got up to use the bathroom, and I moved the fan around the room because it’s hot as fuck in here, and I miss the air-conditioned house I’ve been living in for the past few months. Aside from that, I’ve been laying here.
Stewing in my own juices.
I probably stink.
I can’t bring myself to care.
I miss my guys. I turned my phone off because I was afraid they’d call or text me all night, trying to talk me into going back, and I’m not strong enough to tell them no.
Because dammit, I love them.
I love them.
And I haven’t lovedanyoneaside from my family and my very best friends ever in my life. No one. Because I don’t trust them. Usually, men I’ve dated scoff at my fear of animals. One guy actually bought me apuppy and then had the audacity to call me an idiot when I told him to get that thing away from me.
They think they can fix me, or overlook my quirks for a while, until they get old. And then, it’s over. And I can always be in the comfort and safety of the home I pay for, that has my name on it, when I need to go lick my wounds. Because this is where I’m safe.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on my door, and I groan.
“Go away,” I mutter into the pillow. But then there’s another knock, so I pull myself out of bed and trudge my way to the door.
But it’s not one or both of my guys standing there, much to my dismay.
I mean, much to my delight.
Yeah, that’s it.
“I have a bunch of stuff for you, and didn’t want to leave it on the step,” the delivery guy says.
“What kind of stuff?” I squint at the kid. “Wait, I know you. How’s it going, Jake?”
Jake Wild grins at me. God, he’s adorable. He’s going to break hearts everywhere someday. He likely already does.
He shrugs. “Boxes. If you prop the door open, I’ll set them inside.”
“Knock yourself out, friend.”
If he’s doing the heavy lifting and setting the boxes inside for me, he’s my friend.
Five minutes later, I’m standing in the middle of my living room staring at about six big boxes and reach for a box cutter, tearing into the firstone.
“A fan,” I murmur to myself and sit back on my haunches.
But this isn’t just any fan. It’s the kind that fits in the windows of this apartment, so it won’t fall out, and I can pull the cool night air in.
Opening the next box, I pull out another fan, but this is one that goes on the table top, and it says I can put cold water in it and it’s a portable AC unit.
Well, shit.My lower lip trembles as I open the next box and find a cooling blanket, a cooling pillow, and a bag of gummy bears.
