It works. Mostly.
I thought for a long time that the art of breathing was a farce, that it was something Eddie had just filled the Kid’s head with, some psychology mumbo jumbo that wouldn’t lead to anything. It was just breathing, after all.
But for some reason, it works. By focusing on my breath, air moving in and out of my lungs, the anger and fear ebbs to a slow simmer. It’s stupid, really, that it ever even came to this, and I have to remind myself that people fight, they do. It’s part of every single relationship, and Otter said we were good. I have to trust him on that.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not still worried. About him. And me.
And Izzie.
I sigh as I push myself away from the door. Dizzy Gillespie is wailing on his horn, and it’s bright and brassy and completely at odds with the hand clenched around my heart. I know Otter didn’t mean what he said, not completely. But the fact that he’d said it at all was enough to probably set us back with her quite a bit.
I’m about to head for the stairs when someone knocks on the door behind me.
For a moment, I think it’s Otter, already having come back to grovel. I’m almost relieved at the thought that he didn’t get very far before—
It’s not Otter.
It’s Ty and Dom.
“Where is she?” Ty asks, a scowl on his face. “Is she—” He looks toward the ceiling as Dizzy goes on a complicated run, and pushes past me, feet pounding up the stairs.
“How did you—” I start calling after him, but he’s already up the stairs and out of sight.
“She called him,” Dom says from behind me. “We were on our way home from having lunch with Stacey and Ben.”
“Shit,” I mutter, stepping aside to let him in.
He closes the door behind him. “Everything okay?”
I scrub my hand over my face. “She heard something she shouldn’t have. Otter and I were fighting, and it just—it shouldn’t have been said. We’re a little… stressed.”
“This happen a lot?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t play cop on me, Dominic Miller. You know it’s not like that.”
He shrugs but has the decency to look vaguely guilty. “Just have to ask.”
“No, it doesn’t happen a lot. It doesn’t happen at all. But I
think we’ve been building to this for a while. It’s not—Jesus. Look. Otter was an asshole. I was an asshole. We’re about to have twins. We’re tired and cranky, and this got out of control.”
“No one touched anybody else?”
I roll my eyes. “Do you really think Otter would ever lay a hand on me?”
“No. Just want to make sure everyone is okay.”
“I appreciate that, Dom. I really do. But even if Otter was the type to hit anyone, you can sure as shit bet I’d scratch his fucking eyes out.”
Dom snorts. “Maybe I should ask if Otter’s okay.”
I glare at him. “Not funny.”
“Sorry.”
I look up toward the ceiling, the music still blaring. “What did she say?”
He shrugs. “Not a lot. Just that she wasn’t sure if she was welcome here anymore.”