Page 64 of Breathing Her Fire

“Yeah, he said…” I swallow hard as bile rises in my throat at the words he said, “... he said he’d bring you back to our house and show you what a real man is like if I didn’t stay away from you.”

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

“He wouldn’t have done it, Nat,” I defend, afraid she’ll suddenly be scared of me by extension.

“Looking back, I realize it was a way to control me, and it worked. A few years later, when I hit puberty, I started hitting back. He laughed at my measly attempts at first, but then I bulked up and could pack a punch. I was sixteen the last time he hit me, but the words he used never stopped. Honestly, those did more damage than the punches.”

We’re quiet for a bit while Natalie takes in my story. I can’t handle the silence anymore, so I open my eyes and look up at her. Her eyes are closed, and tears are streaming down her face.

I quickly scoot up the bed to wipe her cheeks with my thumbs. “Don’t cry for me, love. It’s all over now. He doesn’t control me anymore, no matter what he says or tries to do.”

When her eyes open, I just about lose it at the heartbreak I see in them. “I’m crying over the little boy I loved with my whole heart and the man who’s had to go through the nightmare alone.” Her voice breaks at the end. I wrap my arms around her and pull her to me as she cries. I close my eyes as a tear slips down my cheek.

I finally have someone in my life who knows my story and still loves me, dirty history and all.

* * *

After our intense conversation,Natalie and I both fell asleep and napped for a few hours. I convinced her I was fine and she could go back to work, which she reluctantly did half an hour ago.

I’ve been sitting on my couch twiddling my thumbs since she left because I don’t know what to do now. The emotional release of telling Natalie everything exhausted me, but at the same time, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders, giving me a ton of energy.

I do still feel like I’m waiting on the other shoe to drop, though. My entire life has been one big negative experience. It’s hard to see how this thing with Natalie won’t come with a negative side as well. I mean, right now, it all feels a little too rainbows and puppies, and that’s not how life works.

On the other hand, I think part of the reason it’s been so great is that she is in my life now. I don’t have to deal with all of this negative shit by myself anymore. Maybe I found the key to a good relationship. Sharing both the good and bad with the person who’s supposed to be there to support you.

But what the fuck do I know?

My cell phone begins to ring, and I quickly grab it to answer.

“Is this Tucker James?”

“It is.”

“Hi, Tucker, this is Tamara from John Francis Hospital. I’m calling because there was a note in Noah’s folder to call if there was a change in his condition.” This must be about the kiddo I saved.

“Yes, what’s going on?”

“He’s woken up now and is very nervous about being in the hospital. We were wondering if you might be able to come and help him calm down?”

“I’m on my way.” I hang up the phone and quickly run upstairs to get dressed. I took some Advil after Nat and I woke up from our nap, so my wound isn’t hurting too much anymore.

I send Natalie a text letting her know I’m headed back to the hospital to see the kid and then leave my house.

Noah, his name is Noah. I don’t know what it is about this kid, but something in my gut told me when I pulled him from the closet, it was the first time someone had saved him when he needed it.

I pull into the parking lot and walk into the main lobby of the hospital. The nurse said he was on the pediatrics floor, so I head for the elevators and up to the right floor.

Stepping off the elevator, I look around for the nurse’s station. The walls are painted a light blue color and have little murals of bears and balloons along the bottom.

“I’m looking for Noah,” I say as I step up to the main desk.

“And you are?” the nurse asks me with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m Tucker James. Tamara called me to come in to see him.”

She nods her head and looks up at a whiteboard on the wall with a bunch of random letters and numbers on it. All of it is gibberish to me.

“He’s in room 315.” I nod my head in thanks and walk back down the hallway towards the right number. I walk up to the door, and through the glass, I can see Noah’s little body is dwarfed in the big hospital bed. The door is open, so I walk into the room, and Noah looks over at me. His eyebrows furrow like he’s trying hard to remember who I am.

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