Promise Me This (Between Breaths 4)

“What about all of his out-of-town trips?” I had always suspected my father had kept other women. Maybe even took them on these business trips.

“He works hard, Nate,” she said, avoiding my eyes. “You know that—”

“Mom,” I squeezed her hand so she’d look at me. “Let’s be real here.”

“I don’t think so, Nate.” Why did this woman hold her cards so close to her vest? It made me want to shake her and rescue her all at once. “You still love him?”

“Y . . . Yes.” Her voice caught on that word and that alone told me so much. That she struggled to love him. That there was a fine line between love and hate. That she still saw some redemption in him—somewhere, somehow—and I just didn’t get it after all of this time. “Does he feel the same way?”

Her eyes filled with shiny tears. “Of course.” But her words came out like a plea. A hope. A prayer.

“Mom,” I said, squeezing her hands. “I hate to see you cry. I just . . . want you to be happy.”

“Now you listen to me.” She dabbed at her eyes and straightened herself. “I want you and your brother to finish college, find decent jobs, and make it in this world.”

“If that’s why you’re . . .” The idea that she’d stick with him even after we’d become adults made me see stars. “I’d make it on my own, Mom. I’d leave the keys in that damn car out there and walk back to school.”

“Stop it. You’re so close,” she said, gripping my hand. “You deserve the education he’s providing you.”

I stared into her eyes. Would she leave then—after I got my shiny diploma? Or would she find a new excuse to stay?

“What about you?” she asked suddenly.

I blinked slowly at her. “What do you mean?”

“What are you so afraid of, honey?” she asked. “Why won’t you let anybody get close?”

“Like I said before, I think you know why,” I said and she waited me out, her eyes on me. “What if I’m just like him?”

“You’re not,” she responded immediately. Vehemently.

“But what if I am?” I mumbled, my stomach recoiling at the words.

“Honey, there are so many differences between the two of you.”

It was true that my brother was the golden son. He was more like my father—more like his buddy, actually. They’d watch sports together while I was more interested in building Legos. In fact, I had an entire cityscape erected in my bedroom. I’d always loved construction and design, even back then.

This one year, I begged my mom to take me to the Frank Lloyd Wright museum and I marveled at the blueprints and the modern lines of the houses. I always knew I wanted to do something with structures, either building or planning.

I saw there was a program at TSU that seemed to fit my plan. I chose to attend a large university as opposed to a private college, to my father’s dismay. But by then, he was already beginning to lose me. My respect. My fear. And he knew it.

“You dated Bethany for a long time in school,” my mother said. “You were so sweet on her. It could happen again.”

She smiled remembering my high school girlfriend, while I cringed. The summer after graduation, we were carefree and in love, having sex whenever we could be alone. But there was that one night that ruined everything.

We were experimenting with different positions and I got too comfortable, too in the moment. She let me handcuff her, which was so arousing, and during sex, my hand came down hard on her ass, once. Just once. But that was all that it took. She yelped and cringed and looked back at me with surprise and fear in her eyes.

She knew about my father. She was the only one who knew.

Our relationship ended shortly thereafter. Something had changed between us that night. I had let her get a glimpse of what was inside of me and she hated it, was terrified of it. And I knew I needed to bottle that shit up right then and there and never allow it to consume me.

“Maybe,” I said to my mother, only to ease her mind.

Chapter Five

Jessie

I had several moments of quiet at Raw Ink this afternoon, which rarely happened, so I was able to sneak in some schoolwork. I pulled out my independent study notes and laid them out on the counter.

Between the phone ringing, customers streaming in, the artists needing supplies restocked, and the place requiring constant sanitation, I barely had a moment to breathe. But today even Cory was quiet, because he was sporting a mean hangover. Bennett wasn’t due in until later, the two female artists weren’t scheduled at all today and Dex was in one of the back rooms with a customer placing the final touches on the huge eagle he was tattooing on his lower back.

Raw Ink was a popular shop in this town, especially on the weekends, and thankfully Oliver was a decent boss who didn’t micromanage. He allowed me the freedom to organize the schedule along with a few other shop responsibilities, like handling our website, so he was able to oversee the business and maintain the books.

He was an artist himself, but his clientele was selective. He’d handpicked every employee for an apprenticeship, except for Cory and Dex, who had come from other shops, and was known as one of the best in the business.

As I jotted down a couple more notes for my photography assignment, Emmy arrived early for her shift. Her vibrant red hair was pulled high in a ponytail as she bounced inside the door. She was sweet and bubbly and smart as a whip. Continuously on the move, she always had a story to tell, and she’d easily become one of my closest confidantes.