The Air That I Breathe (The Game 3.5)

I wasn’t convinced, but I was too tired to fight about it.

I was sick of fighting. Sick of holding back.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmured against my forehead. “I don’t care what anyone says. We aren’t doin’ anything wrong.”

Every part of me screamed out in agreement, and I cuddled even closer to him and wrapped an arm around his middle. I snuck a leg between his, too. Then I gave in to the exhaustion and fell asleep to the sound of rain hitting the metal windowsill outside.Chapter 1“Don’t you dare open your gifts until Christmas mornin’, ya hear?” Nana wagged a finger in warning at us.

I smirked and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “We won’t. Have fun on your cruise.”

“I always do.” She turned her cheek to Reese next, and he dutifully kissed her too. “Now, go. Don’t be late for your flight. I’m gonna go open the gift you got me.”

I laughed.

“What the fuck?” Reese chuckled. “What about waiting for Christmas mornin’?”

She waved us off. “The Lord did not bless me with patience. Go on, git!”

We shook our heads in amusement but did as told, ’cause we didn’t have a lot of time. We’d been watching the forecast all morning about the storm rolling in over the South, and we’d both kinda been hoping our flight would be canceled.

No such luck.

After checking our duffels and cramming our jackets into our backpacks, we went through security and made it to our gate with a few minutes to spare.

There was a rush of anticipation and frustration in the air; people were flying home for the holidays, stressed out and anxious, and all eyes were glued to watches, weather forecasts, and departure screens.

Reese was mumbling “Come on, come on, cancel, cancel” up until right before we boarded.

At least it was a somewhat short break. We could survive two weeks with Pop, especially since he’d be away for the majority of the time.

I had a feeling we wouldn’t be making these trips much longer anyway. We were eighteen now, and Nana had expressed that she was getting tired and thinking of giving up her annual holiday cruise. Maybe we could convince her to celebrate Christmas just the three of us next year. If we could also convince her that there was no use in “trying to maintain a relationship with Pop.” It was the only reason I went. She didn’t have any problems with us being alone at home—at her house—she was only concerned about her “pigheaded son.”

“Gimme.” Reese motioned to my backpack, and I handed it over before I slid into the window seat.

He stowed away our carry-ons, then sat down next to me and buckled in. “I’m hungry.”

I patted the pockets of my jeans and found the bag of trail mix Nana had given me. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He wasted no time.

He was eating more than usual lately. Considering he was a stress eater, a nervous eater, and a boredom eater, I was only waiting for him to tell me what was wrong. I usually gave him a week or so, unless it was really bad.

For the first time in a year, I felt all right. I was sleeping soundly, for obvious reasons, and my future was laid out ahead of me. Since we’d moved around a lot growing up, we’d been held back a year in school, and we weren’t graduating until next spring. But then we’d be gone. We were gonna join the Army together.

I seriously liked this dynamic that’d developed lately between Reese and me, too. It contributed to me being in higher spirits. He got fussy and bitchy if I didn’t eat properly, and then he’d make me something. And I kept an eye on his impulsiveness. If he got too reckless, too spontaneous, there was often something underneath it all that bothered him. It was my job, in a way, to keep him calm.

God knew he needed it, because while I’d managed to turn shit around in school and up my grades, his had been hanging by a thread until I’d intervened in the middle of the semester.

By the time we were in the air, the trail mix was long gone, and Reese was peering over the seats to see if they were serving soda and snacks anytime soon.

“You gotta calm down.” I put a hand on his bouncing leg and squeezed a little.

He blew out a breath and scrubbed his hands over his face.

I frowned, wondering what could be so bad. Was it because we were heading to Nashville again?

“If going to see Pop makes you this antsy, we can fly back home,” I said quietly. “Just say the word and I’ll get us tickets as soon as we land.”

He shook his head and folded his arms over his chest, and his stare dropped to his leg.

I withdrew my hand.