Break Me Down (The Breaking Trilogy, #2) Read online

  MYRA: It seems so far away.

  ME: It’s not. It’ll be here before you know it.

  I’d told her I wanted to take her out, but she was having a busy week. Maybe it was too much to expect her to keep up with. It was too early in the week to tell.

  MYRA: It’s funny. A few weeks ago I was hoping you’d stay out of my dreams, but tonight I hope you visit them.

  I never wanted to be in that position again. Out of her dreams was no place to be. My fingers wandered to her small band, hanging on the chain around my neck. Then I looked at the one still sitting on my right hand.

  It was a shame that we’d started out in such an ugly situation. The rings didn’t mean much to me, specifically they didn’t mean to me what they signified to the people in our old hometown. But they did mean something. They had significance.

  If anything, we were in the mess together. A different kind of bond, for sure, but that didn’t make it weak.

  ME: I’ll do my best.

  Like I’d done almost every night since she’d left, my knees hit the floor before I turned out the lights.

  God,

  Thank you for bringing her back. I’m doing everything to I can to prove to both of you that I deserve her. Be with her when I can’t be.

  And if you have a spare minute, my girl needs me, but her dreams will do for now.

  Amen.

  22

  Myra

  Each night, class got better, but I could have just been getting used to it. I found when I read ahead, the lessons and discussions were easier, but as Friday night’s session came to an end, I couldn’t shake the feeling that in four weeks when social studies came back around, I’d need to attend the prep module again.

  It was simply too much information. The names and places had run together by the end of the week. And much of the Thursday night class was more of an open discussion on politics than in line with what we should have been focusing on, despite how interesting the conversation was.

  I’d probably never be a person who loved watching current events or even the news, but learning a more thorough account of history had value. In some ways, a lot of it sounded like cycles that repeated themselves, over and over.

  As I packed up my things, Mr. Paxton cleaned the chalkboard like he did every night.

  “How are you doing, Ms. Fox?” he asked without facing me.

  “I’m fine. Just trying to keep up. Or catch up really.” I hiked my bag over one shoulder and lugged it with up front. “I’ve learned a lot though. I hope.”

  With a loud bang, he clapped the eraser against the wall beneath the chalk tray. “You’ll do fine. You show up and pay attention. That’s all it really takes.”

  It was more than that Ms. Perry did. She’d hadn’t been back since Wednesday, but I wasn’t complaining. She made me edgy.

  “Happy a good weekend,” I said and left.

  “You too. See you Monday.”

  It would be there too soon, but as I unlocked my car and watched the others leave the parking lot, I refused to let it weigh on me all weekend. Well, not until Sunday night at least.

  I’d made it through the first module and that was something. Small accomplishments counted. So I’d celebrate when I could. Plus, I wasn’t looking forward to language arts, but I’d already thumbed through some of the chapters about that portion in my study guides. It didn’t look too much more complicated than the social studies part.

  I’d get through it.

  It was the math and science I was really worried about. From skimming, it was obvious my limited education was elementary at best compared to what I’d need to pass those subjects.

  Complicated and intimidating bridges I’d have to cross when I came to them.

  I turned the ignition over and the dashboard said quarter after eight.

  There was only once place I wanted to be.

  The cabin.

  Finally, I was coasting down the gravel lane and pulling into the drive under the big tree. The lights on the porch were off, but there was a lamp on inside. At the top of the wooden stairs, I looked at him through the window. Shirtless on the couch. Asleep with a book on his chest. His bare feet hanging over the end and one arm over his head.

  For a moment, I thought about leaving him. He looked so peaceful and just the glimpse of him had untwisted some of the tension from the week, but I was selfish, and it wasn’t enough.

  Quietly, I opened the door and he didn’t even stir when I closed it behind me.

  Careful not to startle him, I knelt to the floor and inched closer. He’d been reading the Bible. That surprised me, but maybe it shouldn’t have. On more than one occasion he’d quoted scripture.

  As gently as I could, I lifted the book and reached to set it on the end table above his head when his eyelids fluttered. A lazy grin tipped his lips and then he drifted off again.

  I kept my voice low. “Abraham.”

  “Hmmm?” he groaned. Without looking at me he spoke again, hoarse and sleepy. “Are you here?”

  “Yeah,” I answered, enjoying the chance to study him up close. He’d trimmed his face again and it didn’t look as rough as it had felt after our date. Almost appearing smooth and conditioned. “I wanted to see you.”

  “Get up here with me.” The large, manly hand that had been hanging off the edge was now on my ribs, urging me onto the couch with him.

  “There’s no room.” His big body took up more than the sofa had to offer as it was.

  “Lay on top of me.”

  Was he dreaming?

  I sat there waiting to see if he was just talking in his sleep, not sure of what to do.

  “Stop thinking and just get up here, Myra.”

  A new defiant voice inside me tsked, but an even louder one encouraged me to do what I was told. I didn’t want to hurt him, so I made sure my legs were in safe places and then I lowered my body to his chest, pressing my ear against him.

  He must have had a pipe earlier in the evening because I could smell the faint vanilla and cherry on his skin. His heat warmed me as two arms wrapped around me. He nuzzled his chin into my hair and sighed.

  It wasn’t long before my eyes felt heavy and I readjusted and slipped my tingling hand between his side and the cushion to get more comfortable.

  I don’t remember when he turned the light off or when he covered us with the blanket. I couldn’t tell how I got to the bedroom later or how my shoes got off. But I’d never forget hearing and feeling the words I love you against my temple as he stroked my hair before the sun came up the next morning.

  Or maybe I’d been the one who was dreaming all along.

  23

  Abe

  I wasn’t particularly exhausted until I’d laid on the couch the night before. Truthfully, I was just ready for Saturday to get here.

  She’d been right. The weekend took forever to arrive.

  Then she pulled a fast one on me and showed up Friday after her class.

  That wasn’t a complaint.

  I’d slept in my sweats and left her in everything she’d worn, although I doubt she would have even noticed if I’d taken her clothes off. She didn’t so much as flinch with I removed her shoes.

  I woke up early but there wasn’t a single thing that could have pulled me out of that bed. My girl had been tired, and I let her sleep.

  Since I’d skipped dinner and fell asleep essentially before dark, I was starving.

  Her legs straightened, rigidly extending away from us, and she yawned as her head rose off my chest.

  “Do you still want me to come back?”

  “Today?” My hold tightened around her. “I don’t even want you to go.”

  She rolled her band around my neck between her fingers. Her nails felt nice, lightly scratching my skin. “I mean... to stay.”

  There was no question. My answer was yes. I just needed a minute to consider if it was right for her. I’d hoped she’d come back—all the way back—I hadn’t expected it to be so soon.
<
br />   Then I stopped myself. It wasn’t up to me to decide what was right for her. I wasn’t her keeper.

  Myra was a smart, thoughtful woman. Over the past few weeks, she’d proven she was ready to take control of her life. Not just to me and the Griers, but I thought also to herself. Her confidence was blooming, and I wasn’t about to stifle that.

  I had a plan. Or, rather, a revision to a plan.

  The room under the cabin started as wishful thinking. My intention was, if she ever gave me another shot, she could use it for sewing or whatever she wanted.

  “Last night when I got out of class, I wanted to be here. I’m more relaxed here. It’s more peaceful.” She didn’t need to convince me, but it was reassuring to hear why she wanted to return. “Ted and Dori are great, but I’m under their feet. I fit better here.”

  “Move back in with me today. Come home.”

  She uncurled herself from me and sat up. I followed, reaching behind me for the headboard to stretch my back.

  “Okay,” she agreed. Her hair was fizzy on the side of her head that had been tucked into the crook of my arm all night, so I smoothed it down for her.

  “But I’m going to sleep in the extra room for now,” I added.

  Her brows pinched. “In the basement? That won’t be comfortable. Why?”

  “I’ll be fine, it’s practically nicer than up here now.” I scratched my beard, noticing the oil and balm Ashely sold me were already working, and then I went on. “Listen, we already have an unconventional situation. Most couples don’t live together as perfect strangers, get to know each other better, separate, only to go on a date, and then move back in together. It just doesn’t work like that. I don’t want you to leave me again just to get some space.”

  Her face was still scrunched, and she wiped the sleep from her eyes as she listened.

  “I want us to have a good shot this time. You might like the breathing room. The space. A quiet place to study. Read. Do what you want, without me right on top of you.”

  She scooted closer, grinning. I’d left myself wide open for a joke, but I wasn’t sure she’d take it. It was a cheap one.

  “What if...”

  God, she’s sexy.

  “... I don’t want all that space.”

  Myra licked her bottom lip, and I swallowed. She wasn’t making it easy on me.

  Covertly, I moved a pillow to my lap. We weren’t out in public—it wasn’t that—and I wasn’t ashamed of my attraction to her anymore. It just wasn’t the right time. The conversation needed to happen without distractions.

  I cleared my throat, focusing on what she was saying instead of the way she was slowly blinking at me. “If that happens, we’ll negotiate. We’ll talk about it.”

  A growl came from my stomach. My body was putting me through the wringer. The second we cleared this up, I was taking a cold shower and our date-day Saturday was starting at the first diner I could get us to.

  “Can we negotiate now?”

  “Sure,” I replied and crossed my arms over my chest. Ready to debate or accept whatever was on her mind.

  “Weekends. On weekends, I’d like you to sleep up here. With me.”

  That was reasonable. People slept over all the time when they were dating. Plus, it was as simple as I wanted to. A good compromise.

  “I accept. When you want me to stay on weekends, I will.” I’d leave it up to her, night to night, to decide.

  “Then it’s a deal.” She extended her delicate hand to me, making it official.

  We shook on it. “Deal.” Then I kissed her knuckles. “Now, how fast can you be ready to go?”

  FOUR CUPS OF COFFEE, a glass of orange juice, a short-stack covered in butter and syrup, and an entire four-egg Denver omelet later, I was full.

  My napkin landed on my empty plate. “Should we go get your stuff?”

  “It’s not that much.” She sipped the last of her water.

  “Good, then it won’t take that long and we can go do something fun.” I read the check, pulled cash out of my wallet to pay on our way out and slid a tip under the sugar shaker. “The day is still young.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  While we waited behind another customer at the register, I asked, “Is there something you’d like to do today?”

  Myra shrugged. “It might not sound fun to you.”

  “Try me.”

  “I’d rather get my stuff, go to the store, get a big pot of something cooking on the stove, take a hot bath, and then just relax with you. We could watch a movie you like or find something on TV. We don’t need to do anything fancy for me to have a good time with you.”

  I couldn’t blame her. Dates could be fun, but what she suggested sounded better. There’d be plenty of other chances to take her out. She’d been exposed to a lot lately. If she wanted R&R, it was fine with me.

  “Do you like pot roast?” I asked. It was about the only real meal I could make that didn’t involve eggs or a grill.

  I handed a twenty to the cashier and waved off the pocket change due back.

  “With potatoes?” she inquired.

  As we walked out to the parking lot, she tucked her shoulder under my arm. “And carrots. Maybe celery if we’re feeling really wild.”

  “That sounds like my kind of date. I think a glass of wine would be nice too.” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to my cheek before we parted to go to our sides of the truck. “And since you won’t be driving anywhere, you can have more than one glass.”

  “WHERE’S DORI?” MYRA asked when we walked through the Griers’ door together.

  Ted sat up in his recliner, mashed the foot stool down, and stubbed out a cigarette in the tray beside him. “She’s at Ash’s. Guess she’s not feeling that good. So you know momma had to run over and take care of her.”

  In unison, we asked, “Is she okay?”

  “Achy. No energy. Chris had something to do, so Dori’s pretty much there to wait on her and keep her company.”

  Myra’s mouth made an O, and she looked like she knew something we didn’t.

  Ted grumbled, “What now?”

  “Ashley’s getting close. She’s going to have that baby soon.”

  It was odd how Myra and my friends had their own separate relationships that I hadn’t been privy to. I hadn’t been around to watch her get close to them, but the way she was smiling made me happy. Ashley and Chris were the best, and I loved how she was getting along with them, even without me around.

  Ashley looked the same when I stopped at her house earlier in the week for tip on how to make my beard less abrasive. She literally peed a little when I told her that things were looking up. She might go into full-blown labor if she knew Myra was moving back in.

  “Why you say that?”

  “Because that's how it goes for a lot of women. You nest and wear yourself out. Then you feel sick and awful. But the real sign is when she starts feeling great. That’s when it’ll happen. I’ve seen it lots of times.” She strolled to the back of their long sectional sofa and leaned her hip against it. “I wish Dori was here for this, but I wanted to say thank you—to you both—for welcoming me in. I’m ready to go back to Abraham’s.” She glanced back at me. “Back home.”

  “Well, it’s up to you,” he said. “You’re a big girl. You can live wherever you like. You’re always welcome back.”

  He crooked an eyebrow, and I prepared for some jab or remark I’d have to defend, and then he said, “He’ll take care of you. You’ll take care of each other.”

  “I’m going to use a few trash bags. Is that okay?” she asked.

  Swatting at the question, he waved her off. “Take what you need.”

  It wasn’t long before we’d packed her up, ran through the market, and made it back to the cabin. Coming home with her was great, even better than it was before. The playing field had been leveled and there wasn’t the wedge between us.

  There was still the issue of getting her money from my father, and if and how she
’d stay in contact with her family, but for the moment things were calm. Clicking into place.

  She held her clothes to her face at the kitchen table where she was going through what we’d brought home with us and grimaced. “Everything needs rewashed. They all smell like smoke.”

  Since it was already late morning, I needed to get the roast on if it was going to be tender enough to eat that evening. “You do that, I’ll cook.” There wasn’t much to it. Braise the outside and then throw it in a pot with barely cut up vegetables. It couldn’t be easier.

  “Maybe I’ll take that bath too,” she said.

  Whatever made her happy.

  There was plenty for me to do, including moving the bed frame I’d made into the extra room and call around about mattresses. Weekends I was up there with her, but I wasn’t sure where that left Sunday night.

  Guess I’d find out.

  She got busy with her laundry, and then she set her sewing machine up like it had been before. When she’d move around me, she never missed an opportunity to touch me. Her hand across my back. A nudge of her shoulder.

  Subtle, yet very effective.

  It wasn’t long until she slipped into the bathroom for a soak, and I wandered to the shed with my fantasies. The thoughts started when I pictured her undressing and by the time I heard the squeak of the tub’s faucet turn off, I was so hard that walking the few hundred yards was uncomfortable.

  While I touched myself I thought of all the things I wanted to do to her later. With my hands. With my mouth. And before I could get to anything else, I was emptying myself into a pile of sawdust. Panting and relieved, yet still not satisfied.

  It was just enough to take the edge off. Hopefully enough that I wouldn’t have to sneak away after she fell asleep.

  Would it always be like that? Would I want her that bad after I’d had her? Would my need for her ever abate?

  I didn’t want to think of myself as the kind of guy who only wanted something so badly because it was just beyond his grasp, only to take it for granted after I reached it.