Breathe You In (Sweet Torment 1)

“She’s the best thing that ever happened to us,” my mother said, reaching for my father’s hand and squeezing. Staring right at me, she finished with, “And we miss her so much.”

My chest constricted and I tried to keep breathing.

Roman just smiled at my parents. “Well, I’m so happy you have a chance to see her now. Amy’s been working really hard, so I’m glad she can take a break to come visit you two.”

He glanced at me, and both my parents’ faces fell. I wanted to crawl under the table and die. Instead, I leaned in a bit and whispered to Roman, “They’re talking about my sister.”

His frown, which turned into a questioning glare, shot between me and them. It was sweet that Roman had assumed the kind words were meant for me, but no. I’d learned a long time ago not to expect such sentiments. Roman, however, looked kind of pissed.

“So tell me, Governor, how’s your campaign going?” my father asked. “I hear you’re the favorite in New York.”

Roman cleared his throat. I stared at my plate.

“The campaign is going well. Thanks to Amy.” He palmed my knee under the table.

The small squeeze of support was nice, but it couldn’t combat the emptiness that was creeping in. It was the same feeling I got every time I came home. Hollow.

“She’s working hard and helping to head up the anti-drug agenda we’re launching.”

“That’s nice.” My mother said, and took a bite of her food. “You two are leaving tomorrow evening?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

“Our flight is at six,” I said.

She nodded. “So you’ll be seeing Lauren in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Excuse me,” Roman said. “I was under the impression that we were all going together?”

“No,” my mother said quickly. “Shame, but Allen and I will be going in the evening, after your flight leaves.” It was obvious that she wasn’t upset by this at all.

“Why?” Roman asked, sharply enough to get both my parents’ attention. A trickle of unease entered the room.

“Well, um, because we’re busy all day tomorrow.”

“Doing what?” he countered.

My heart rate sped up. I recognized this. The square shoulders and calm breathing, the short, terse words: He was in full-blown Roman Reese, “politician and everything alpha,” mode. And he was calling my parents out from across the table.

“We have plans,” my mother tried again, looking at my father, who wasn’t offering any help.

Roman placed his hands on the table and kept his stare on my mother, challenging her to lie further. He was going to push her again. I saw it on his face, felt it hum from his body. He wanted her to admit the real reason she was being evasive.

I, however, didn’t want to hear it. Because I already knew the reason, and I didn’t want the one man who actually saw me as something special to hear it either. It was the dark truth I’d been running from. And my parents’ obvious lack of interest in my life showed more than I had anticipated. My whole body churned as though on the brink of combustion.

“Please,” I whispered and shook my head. “Don’t.”

His dark gaze snapped to my face. I had no idea what my expression was, but whatever Roman saw made him alter and soften his.

“It’s getting late,” he stated and turned his attention back to my parents. “Thank you for dinner, but we should be going. Amy?”

I nodded in agreement and we rose from the table. My father shook Roman’s hand, but my mother didn’t come near us. Instead, she backed away.

Walking through the front doorway I’d crossed so many times as a child, the same doorway I’d brought Lauren through that night, and through which I was now following the governor of New York, I felt a ping of ache and relief settle in my chest.

I had been trying for a long time to make things right, to make my parents care about me again, but I was out of ideas. So once again I reached for the truth, and vowed that I’d use it more often.

“Mom, Dad.” Roman’s hand clasped mine, and he stalled so I could turn to face my parents. “I love you.”