Can't Hardly Breathe Read online

  "No. Stay with me." She clutched his shirt, trying to hold him in place. Clinging was beneath her, and it embarrassed her to the depths of her soul, but her strength was gone. Zapped. She would rather have Daniel than her principles.

  "I'll be right back, love," he vowed, his voice so tender it tore something deep inside her. "I just want to look at the damage."

  A moment passed. She forced herself to release him.

  After a prolonged hesitation, he disappeared out the door.

  I give up. She dragged her knees to her chest, huddling on the mattress. Shaking. Wallowing.

  A cry sounded deep inside her: Enough! She'd had to pick herself up a thousand times before; this would be no different. This wasn't even a big deal. It set her back, sure. Set her back a lot, even. She couldn't afford new flooring. Harlow might not be willing to redo the murals, and Jessie Kay might not be willing to sew new curtains and a comforter. Daniel would definitely redo the headboard. It was the sheer nastiness of the act that undid her.

  Only a few people had unrestricted access to the room. Harlow, Jessie Kay and Daniel, of course. And Carol and Holly, who had master keys.

  Maybe...maybe Harlow had returned to her bullying roots?

  As soon as the suspicion formed, Dorothea disregarded it. No way. The expectant mother had changed, and she loved her work. She wouldn't destroy it.

  Jessie Kay loved Daniel like a brother and wouldn't hurt him by hurting Dorothea.

  Daniel wasn't the kind of man who sneaked around.

  Carol hated what Dorothea was doing to the inn, but she hated conflict more. Besides, she wouldn't sabotage her own daughter. Well, not with anything more than gossip. And Holly wouldn't hurt her this way. Like Daniel, she didn't operate in the shadows. She took credit for her work. The good and the bad.

  Someone must have picked the lock, then. Jazz? Charity? Or maybe someone Daniel had dated, who was ticked at Dorothea for winning him long-term? Or longer term.

  But how would that someone have entered the inn and walked the halls without anyone inside the inn noticing? Or the new security system alerting Dorothea's phone?

  Okay. So. She had to rethink her list of suspects.

  Jazz and Charity were at the top. Jazz could have trashed the room, returned to his own and waited for Dorothea to discover what he'd done. Then, when she screamed, he could have...what? Comforted her in her time of need?

  Charity could have done it out of spite.

  Another sob racked her, defeat swamping her. Don't think I can pick myself up this time.

  Just when she'd thought her life was on the right track, happiness finally within her reach, this happened. Something else to knock her down.

  This isn't who you are anymore. You will get up and fight!

  Yes, but who or what was she supposed to fight?

  Start with the misery. Then--the culprit. Whoever committed the crime must do the time.

  She quieted. Her puffy eyes burned, and her nasal passages were so swollen she had to breathe through her mouth, but she stood on shaky legs and marched into the hall.

  Daniel rounded the corner and stalked toward her, his expression dark and fierce. He held a laptop so tightly his knuckles were white. Despite the menace surely flowing through his veins, he stopped beside her and gently smoothed the hair from her damp cheek.

  "You need to see this, sweetheart."

  The endearment struck her as odd, even though he'd used it and others many times before. But her head hurt, and she couldn't quite reason out why.

  "You know I've been working on your security," he said as he led her back inside the room. He placed the laptop on her desk.

  "Yes."

  "I put cameras in every hallway." He typed as he spoke, and video feed popped up on the screen. "Last night, Holly showed Jazz the theme room. They were inside three minutes, twenty-two seconds. She shut the door when they left."

  "Jazz went back," Dorothea said on a gasp. The bastard!

  "No." One word, but he'd never sounded more ominous. "But Holly did, soon after Harlow left for lunch."

  No. No! "She wouldn't."

  Except, on the screen, she watched as Holly entered the theme room alone, a kitchen knife clutched in her hand, her features tight with determination. She stayed inside five minutes and fifty-one seconds. When she left, she was covered in paint splatters.

  Dorothea was the next person to enter.

  Sickened, she clutched her stomach. "Why would she do such a thing?" She asked the question, but the answer was obvious. Why else? To hurt me.

  Maybe Daniel's rage was contagious. One second Dorothea was miserable, the next she was livid, her blood seeming to boil. How dare her sister strike at her like this! Like a good-for-nothing coward. How dare her sister strike at her at all. She'd been hurt enough.

  Once again she marched into the hall. Daniel latched onto her wrist to stop her, but she wrenched free and hurried down the steps. At Holly's door, she knocked with so much force she thought she might have cracked the bones in her hand.

  Daniel remained behind her, silent.

  Holly appeared, and it was clear she'd been crying, her face as red and puffy as Dorothea's. She still wore her paint-splattered clothes.

  "You...little...brat." Dorothea threw the words at her sister as if they were weapons. "You're selfish, spoiled rotten and malicious."

  Holly didn't waste time with false denials. "I'm sorry."

  "You're sorry? You're sorry! Do you know how many times I've apologized to you for going to college like a normal teenage girl? For not wanting to call you when all you ever did was curse at me? How about I forgive you the way you forgave me, huh?"

  "I'm sorry," her sister repeated.

  "You wanted to hurt me. Well, congratulations. You've hurt me."

  "I didn't want to hurt you. I j-just wanted J-Jazz to comfort you. I wanted Jazz to help you repair the room so you guys would get b-back together and--"

  "Get it through your stubborn head. I will never get back together with Jazz."

  Carol must have heard the commotion, because she rushed out of her room...and froze. "Girls?"

  "Shut up, Mother," Dorothea snapped. "Go back inside. Or do you need more gossip to spread?"

  "I...I thought I was helping you. People needed to know what you'd suffered."

  "Shall I tell everyone what you've suffered?"

  Paling, Carol backed up a step. "You're upset. We're all upset. Let's walk away and calm down. Okay? All right?"

  Jazz and Charity raced down the hall.

  "Listen to me, Dorothea. Jazz is sorry for what he--" Holly said.

  "I don't care!" Dorothea screamed. "You have no idea... You can't imagine..." Another sob welled up and tried to clog her throat, but she gulped it back. She'd been a punching bag most of her life, and she was sick of it. "I can't look at Jazz without remembering everything I've lost."

  "Everything you can get back," Holly said quickly.

  "No. No! He can't give me back my baby. My Rose Holly." The words slipped out before she could stop them, but she'd been pushed past the point of caring. "She was dead and buried before she ever had a chance to live. And do you know why? Because I caught Jazz having sex with Charity and ran away. I tripped down a flight of stairs and killed my sweet baby girl."

  With a gasp of horror, her sister reeled backward. "You named her after me," she whispered. "I knew you were pregnant, knew you'd lost the baby, but I didn't know... I didn't know!"

  "It shouldn't have mattered!"

  Carol reached for Dorothea, but she sidestepped, widening the distance between them. Accepting comfort was beyond her right now.

  Jazz hung his head with shame, and Charity openly cried. Only Daniel remained stoic, as if untouched by the proceedings. And yet in his eyes she saw a fury to rival her own.

  "I blame Jazz. I blame Charity. Mostly, I blame myself." Pain ruled Dorothea, and now that she'd started, she couldn't stop. "Rose would have been a year old now. Or eight months if I'd
carried her to term."

  "I regret that day so much." Jazz reached for her, just as Carol had done, but once again Dorothea sidestepped.

  If he touched her right now, she would claw off his face. Would punch and kick and knock his balls into his throat. Maybe kill him. The pain had stripped her of any hope for a better future, leaving her trapped in a deep, dark pit of despair.

  Daniel's calm vanished in a snap. He shoved Jazz against the wall. "Keep your hands off her or lose them."

  Her focus returned to her sister. "You say you weren't trying to punish me, but we both know you're lying."

  Holly covered her mouth with a shaky hand. "Dots--please. Please."

  A brutal shake of her head. One step back. "Don't. Just don't. How many times did I beg you for a modicum of mercy? How many times did you ignore me?"

  "I'm so sorry."

  Not good enough. "Everyone says karma is a bitch, but you certainly gave her a run for her money."

  "I'm so sorry," Holly repeated. "Please. You have to believe me."

  Dorothea continued backing away. "I didn't just lose my baby that day, I lost my chance to have a family, and now I don't think I'll ever want one. All they do is tear you down."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  FOR THE FIRST TIME, Daniel spent the entire night with Thea. He held her as she cried. When she quieted, he did his best to comfort her as well as make her more comfortable. The lights were extinguished, the room filled with shadows. For once, he didn't resent the lack of illumination. The look on his face might scare her. The look on hers might destroy him.

  As much as he'd suffered in life, this woman had endured a thousandfold worse. The loss of a child...given astronomical odds for having another...he couldn't even fathom the depths of her pain.

  She remained stiff in his arms, unresponsive and unwelcoming. He was pretty sure she would have asked him to leave if not for the dogs, who were cuddled on her other side, sleeping peacefully. She was curled into them, clinging to them, as if they were a life raft.

  He wanted to be her raft, even though he didn't deserve the privilege. The past few days, he'd been distant with her, frustrated that she didn't trust him to see her naked, hungry for her, all while trying to control the emotions she elicited within him. The more time he spent with her, the hotter he burned for her. He craved her constantly, even when she was in his arms. Especially when she was in his arms. He thought about her when she wasn't with him, and he couldn't take his eyes off her when she was.

  At some point, her mother came knocking on the door, but he sent her away. Holly came knocking, too.

  "Please," the girl said. "I need to talk to her."

  "You had your chance. Now you're going to act like a grown-up and wait." He shut the door in her face.

  After resettling beside Thea, he kissed her temple.

  "By morning the entire town is going to know about..." Her voice quavered.

  "No. They won't. I promise you." He'd already spoken to everyone who'd been present during her revelation. Or more accurately, he'd threatened everyone who'd been present. If anyone else found out what Thea had revealed, heads would roll...after bodies were beat black-and-blue. "Do you want to talk about--"

  "No."

  He stretched out an arm to switch on the bedside lamp. No more hiding in the shadows. "Do it, anyway," he said as light spilled over her. He wondered if her child would have resembled her. Those corkscrew curls and shamrock eyes. Those adorable freckles.

  "Why?" she demanded.

  "Share your pain with me. Let me help you fight it."

  "Share my pain with you the way you share yours with me?" she said with a sneer.

  She was...right. Though she'd asked, he'd never really talked about his PTSD. To protect her from the harsh reality of military life, he'd told himself. No reason to burden her with the bleakness of war.

  Hogwash, his dad would say. Truth was, the thought of copping to the things he'd done scared the shit out of him.

  He'd heard many people say that a little fear was okay, that it was acting despite the fear that made you brave. He disagreed. Fear was never okay. Fear weakened. Fear destroyed. Look what it had done to his relationship with Thea. True bravery was doing what was right, despite the consequences. Fear was simply the enemy in the way.

  "I lost friends," he told her. "A lot of friends. And I killed people in the heat of battle. A lot of people. When I sleep, I dream of their deaths. I hear their screams."

  As he spoke, she softened against him. "I imagine taking a life is difficult."

  In more ways than one. "Before, during and after, it's hell on earth. You end someone's chance to do better, to be better."

  "I'm sorry. I'm also grateful for your service. You protected our home."

  "You aren't afraid of me?" he asked. "Knowing I'm capable of committing murder."

  "Not even a little."

  "You aren't disgusted?"

  "Only by the farts coming from your dogs."

  A surprised laugh woke Echo, who barked before she promptly fell back to sleep. Daniel traced his fingers up and down Thea's arm, something easing inside him. A pressure he hadn't known he'd endured. A weight he hadn't known he'd carried. "I've never really talked about this with anyone."

  "Not even Jude and Brock? I bet they understand better than anyone."

  "They do, but no. We haven't talked about the past, haven't wanted to burden each other. Sharing with you is...nice." Only a slight pause before he said, "Tell me about Rose."

  She went stiff again. "There's nothing else to tell."

  "I think there is."

  "Well, that just proves you're not nearly as smart as me." A moment later, she withered. "I'm sorry. I'm being cruel, and you don't deserve it." A heavy breath shuddered from her. "I loved her so much."

  "Rose is a beautiful name."

  "Lovely and delicate, like she was." She sniffled, and the sound just about broke his heart.

  "Your tattoo..."

  "Yes. For her. An outward sign of my love for her."

  He tightened his hold, wishing he could protect her from the world. Even from herself.

  "What happened...the way I lost her...it truly was an accident, and might have happened regardless--I was cramping that day. Bleeding, even. But now I'll never know. And...and I loved that girl with every fiber of my being. I miss her. I want her with me."

  He had no words. There were no words good enough.

  An image flashed through his mind. Thea's belly rounded with his child...and it didn't upset him the way he thought it would. And that threw him. Frightened the shit out of him.

  No fear. Not anymore.

  "I'm so sorry for your loss, Thea." Having memorized every inch of her body, he traced his fingers over one of the scars on her abdomen. Despite the barrier her shirt created, he never missed a single inch of raised tissue.

  "I would have given her the best life possible. And if anyone had picked on her the way I was picked on..."

  Heads would have rolled.

  It had been one tragedy after another for this precious woman, one rejection after another, and yet she'd never waved the white flag. That was courage. She possessed a soul-deep strength and a purity of character few others did, both of which mattered far more than outward beauty ever would. Even an outward beauty as magnificent as hers.

  "What was the worst thing about high school?" he asked, steering the conversation to address other hurts she carried. He couldn't help her with Rose, but he could maybe, hopefully, help her with the others.

  "Eating alone in the cafeteria. My only friends were being homeschooled, and I had no one to talk to."

  Daniel hated his teen self. This woman would never eat alone again. He would make sure of it.

  "What was the best thing about high school?"

  "When you told me I was perfect just the way I am."

  Gold star, teen self. "You are perfect. There is nothing about you I would change."

  In a hesitant voice she ask
ed, "Do you want children? One day, I mean. Never mind," she muttered a second later. "It doesn't matter. We're not going to last. Nothing does."

  "Nothing does," he echoed, his voice suddenly as hollowed-out as his chest. With five words--we're not going to last--she'd somehow hurt him on a level his mind didn't yet understand, even if his heart did.

  I think I lov--

  Stop! This was an emotionally charged moment. Better to figure out his feelings later.

  She needed a distraction, and so did he. "You know," he said to lighten the mood, "before we start dating, I need to know--"

  "Before we start dating?" she asked primly.

  "Yeah. Before we can be classified as an official couple, I need to know who's on your last-supper list."

  "One nipple twist, coming up," she said with some of her usual spunk.

  Spunk he'd never been so glad to see. "Pass. But you shouldn't make threats you're not going to see through, sweetheart. You love my nipples, and we both know it."

  "Hmph. Your nipples are passable at best."

  He grinned up at the ceiling. Damn, he lo--

  Liked her.

  "Now tell me about this last supper," she said. "I know about the one our lord Jesus attended, but I'm drawing a blank about my own."

  "It's simple. If you were going to die tomorrow, which twelve people would you invite to attend your last meal? And I'm not talking about the people you'd like to poison, so you keep that dream list to yourself."

  She snorted. "I don't know who I'd invite. I've never thought about it. What about you?"

  "I don't know who you'd invite, either."

  Acting fast, she twisted his nipple. "Who would you invite?"

  "Oh." He pried her fingers off the vulnerable crest. "My number one choice would be you, of course."

  "Please. I'm your girlfriend--well, almost your girlfriend, apparently. You have to say that."

  "No. You're my girlfriend, so I get to say that. There's a huge difference. I'd also invite Jude and Brock and my dad. Both of the pups."

  "We can invite animals instead of people?"

  "Now, don't you go planning a barnyard dinner, Dorothea Mathis. You only get to invite two animals."

  "Why only two?"

  "Because I only have two pets."

  "So you're making up the rules as you go along. Got it." She drummed her nails against his chest, her features no longer tight with strain. "Who else? You've got six more seats to fill."

  He wanted to shout with triumph. I cheered her up. Me. "Do I have to pick from the living or can I pick from the dead?"