CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
SERENITY
Jimena slaps her palms against each other, filling the break room with loud choppy claps. It’s not often I catch her celebrations. They only last for three seconds before she bolts out of the hospital.
The clapping ends with a final, mighty slap to her thighs. “Good job Jimena,” she shouts to herself, wiping sweat from her forehead and letting down her hair before plunking her earmuffs on her head.
She’s moving fast, but not fast enough for her usual escapes, and then she marches back over to our shared locker. “Serenity, please tell me you’re still coming to Maggie’s tonight.”
Ugh. I forgot about that.
My eyes are struggling to stay open already. The ER got so busy that both Jimena and I were called in for an afternoon shift, dismantling the evening we had to ourselves. And my unwanted shift was a draining one.
I had a patient who had an unfortunate breakdown after he stopped taking his bipolar medication. He was sweet to me, not to Caleb. He even called Caleb a creep. The irony of that spread across both our faces.
A little compassion goes a long way. To me, regardless of who comes into the ER, an addict, an accident, a grouchy old lady, or someone who’s having a mental health crisis, everyone deserves some love. I never know who isn’t receiving enough love, and how that contributes to their stay in Boston Hope.
Still, it was tiring to deal with Caleb on a random day I didn’t prepare to deal with him.
Jimena clasps her hands together, shakes them back and forth, bends her knees, and gives me puppy eyes.
“I didn’t bring a change of clothes.” I rub my hands over my face.
Maybe I will take a rain check. As much as I love spending a few hours with my friends when we get the chance, a warm shower, a rom-com, cuddled up with Lake, before I take a peaceful nap sounds much more tempting.
“That doesn’t matter.” Jimena’s hands smash onto her hips. “We’ll stop at my place on the way. I have a new dress you can wear.”
“How—” I decide not to question her. “Okay. I’ll text Lake to stay home.”
***
Maggie kisses Sandra on the cheek as she places down their wine glasses. They’re standing in their low-lit kitchen, joined at the hip as always. Sandra takes the tall bottle of red liquid and pours them both another large glass while returning the kiss.
“He’s very confusing.”
Jimena’s voice snaps my attention back to her. “Sorry. What are you talking about?”
She furrows her eyebrows. “You’re not listening to me at all, Serenity.”
“I’m sorry—” I cut myself off with my yawn. “I can only use one of my five senses at once.”
My sleeve buffs on the dress Jimena let me borrow, so I pull it back off of my shoulder as gently as possible. At Jimena’s, she took her sweet time to take the price tag off of the dress after she shoved me into it like a Barbie, and I saw the trail of numbers. This dress is four-hundred dollars.
“I’m just talking about a guy.” Her collarbone strikes through her shirt.
“It better be someone new because nobody else is acceptable,” I tell her.
“It is, but I don’t want to talk about it.” She sighs. “I was capitalizing on you not listening.”
Sandra and Maggie return to the living room, but right before Maggie reaches the sofa, she nearly tips her wine onto the white carpet. Her life flashes before her eyes and she looks back at Sandra.
Sandra, thankfully with her back turned, has no idea. “Serenity, Maggie has something to tell you.”
Jimena’s quick to spin her body away from me, cross one leg over the other, and tuck her hair behind her ear, as if Maggie has something to say to her.
Maggie sips her wine, trailing her tongue over her lips to catch the bit that slipped away. “Caleb tried to talk to me about you today.”
“Are you serious?” Jimena spits.
I cannot handle this anymore. “What did he say?”
“Better question.” My best friend points. “What the hell does he have up his ass?”
“He asked me a question about your fake husband.” Maggie stops side-eyeing Jimena and looks at me. “I think he was trying to confirm that you two are married.”
Jimena and I exchange a glance. She runs a hand through her silky hair, somehow moving it perfectly across her head. Meanwhile, I sink a little deeper into my skin, because Caleb’s still bothering me and the people I love.
I haven’t confessed what Caleb tried to pull the other day to Lake. He made me promise to tell him if Caleb did anything crazy, and I will not break a serious pinky promise, but I can’t find the words to let it out. I’d rather relax in Lake’s arms than have a tense exchange that ends with Lake clutching onto a blow torch and speeding off in his truck.
Sandra scoots closer to Maggie. “Has he been bothering you?”
“Yes!” I push my palms out in front of me. “He’s been following me and demanding we talk. Jimena had to save me from him the other day.”
Maggie hums. “Maybe that’s why he tried to talk to me instead of Jimena.”
“I would love for him to try me again,” Jimena says, swinging out her hand and nearly smacking me in the face.
“He threatened my job,” I blurt out.
Three collective and loud, “what’s?” come from my friends.
All six eyes are back on me, and it feels too much. The last thing I want is for Caleb, of all people, to cause my friends to worry about me. I remember all too well the heavy, frowning expressions when I fell apart last year.
Jimena grabs onto my hand. “Have you said anything to Lake?”
“No. I got stuff ready for his birthday, and then it was his birthday.” I tilt my head. “He didn’t need to spend his day plotting to run the guy over.” Or any other day.
“Regardless,” Sandra swallows. “Caleb’s clearly on some sort of power trip.”
I drag my fingers over my temples. “Ugh, I don’t want any of you to be caught up in this.”
“Honey. He can’t take my job, and I’m not scared of his little behind.” Maggie snickers and swishes her wine around in her glass. “He can’t take any of your jobs without going through me. I’m the head nurse, and I’ll stay that way for a damn reason.”
Jimena pulls me closer to her, tucking me under her arm. “Yes. Don’t worry about it. I’m—we’re concerned for you. That’s all.”
***
I wave to Jimena as she rips out of my driveway and heads back up the street, leaving me at the entrance of my home.
The lights are still on inside, which means Lake is awake. A smile itches at my lips. It feels like years since I last saw him and my lungs are needy for his air.
Jimena and Maggie convinced me to talk to Lake about what happened with Caleb. Today’s already been a strange day, so it’s the perfect chance to explain. I just hope he doesn’t catch a murder charge for it.
My self-assertion will make Lake proud, at the very least.
I unzip my jacket and put it next to Lake’s on my designated hook while kicking off my shoes. I drop the plastic bag with my scrubs in it on the ground. My white ankle socks don’t match the dress, but I prefer it over dirty scrubs. “Lake!” I call out.
“Yeah.” I barely hear him, but his voice is coming from the kitchen.
“We played cards today. Jimena kept winning.” I prance through the hallway, a giddy grin on my face. “I know it’s late. Would you still like to watch a movie?”
I round the corner, and my entire body goes rigid when I see his swollen cheek and blood plumping out of his lip. His shoulders are tense, and his finger taps against the counter until he sizes a piece of paper and holds it into the sky. I recognize the page, and the photo of my sister on the front of it.
“What is this, Serenity?”
I lose any bit of a smile left on my face.
“Um, that’s Delilah’s obituary.” I try to read the expression on his face, but I’m filled with the urge to clean it up instead. “What happened to your face, Lake?”
I have no idea how he got that paper. It would’ve been easy to look it up, but my parents tried their hardest to bury the original obituary. They didn’t want people to know she struggled with addiction.
My eyes flick to the cabinet behind him, but it’s still locked. I have no idea how he got that paper, or why he seems upset over it. I know I haven’t explained Delilah’s death, but I worried one confession would lead to countless more.
“At a loss for words, honestly.” His voice is bitter. “She’s an addict too, huh?”
I can almost see the transparent stone walls he’s built around himself.
No.
“Are you upset about it? How did you—”
He cuts me off. “I clean the entire house, Serenity. The paper was hanging out of the cabinet you keep locked.” He sets his gaze on the dress I’m in, and his posture softens. “I wanted to respect your privacy.”
I take a step forward, just raising my hands, but Lake’s eyes lunge two icicles at me, and they pierce me in place. “Is this all I am to you? A charity case?”
That can’t be what he thinks. My head shakes faster. “No! Of course not.” My words bounce off of this newly formed wall, and he laughs under his breath.
“I was going to tell you. Lake, I promise. I just didn’t know how.” He keeps silent, so I continue my defense. “There’s so much more to the story. It would’ve overwhelmed you. I didn’t want that.”
I can’t imagine how hurt he must feel from this. This was never my intention. I was trying to protect him from things I can hardly shield myself from.
“Why look at it now?” I ask, attempting to uncover why his face is beat up.
He rolls his neck, and the light hits differently on his face. His features are swollen and red, and his left eyelid is changing colors.
Every muscle in my body is ripping and shredding away from the other. I am torn between wanting to help him and needing to explain myself. My lips are turning dry and I don’t know what to do or say. I’m not even sure what’s happening.
He’s still quiet. I try to fill in the suffocating silence. “Did something happen?”
The way he looks at me. He’s never looked at me that way before. He has hurt his eyes, his face is angry, and it breaks me. God, it breaks me.
“Yes, Serenity.” He bars his teeth. “Your sister died of a damn overdose, so you took me in like your damn pet to fix things.”
“I would never—” No. No, that’s not what I was doing. How could he believe I’d think so low of him? “Lake, it’s not like that. I would’ve helped you no matter what happened to Delilah.”
His voice raises, slashing through the thickened oxygen. “You wanted to save me, fix me, because you couldn’t save your fucking sister!”
“There’s more to it than that!” I yell back.
“Is there Serenity?” he questions. “I’m having a hard time believing that, because you could’ve easily explained this, but you didn’t say shit.”
I blink. The smallest of blinks, but it causes salty water to pour down my face. He’s right, I said nothing. I convinced myself I could do it on my own without bothering anyone.
“I never wanted to fix you, you know that.”
Something flashes across his features. It’s nothing but a glimpse, but I caught it. He believes me. I just saw it flare in his eyes. He knows me better than this. I would never do that to him. He knows it, but he’s not letting me in.
Lake’s holding me at this distance, and he’s turning the situation around. I’m the one in the dark. He’s the one refusing help. He’s entitled to be angry with me, but something. Something happened. Something unrelated to me.
“Lake, there’s more to the story. I can explain it all, but—”
He breaks eye contact, gripping my sister’s obituary, and walking away from me. I watch his legs stay straight in their path down the hallway. So there’s no sign that he’s aiming for the stairs to take a breather. No. He’s heading for the door.
I follow him, tripping over my own feet. “What happened to your face?”
Panic pinches my gut when I see the box on the floor. I didn’t notice it when I strolled inside. I was too excited to see him. The familiar fraying flaps are packed with his tokens. The pictures of him and his siblings as kids are stacked on top. He covers their empty smiles with the paper.
“Are you leaving me?” I squeak out.
He grabs his shoes. “Shit. I don’t know. You were supposed to let me help you. That was our deal.” He throws his arms out beside him. “Been ripping my heart out for you, telling you all this crap, and I’m just a lab rat.”
Then his voice cracks. “I don’t even know who you are.”
Angel. I’m your angel, Phoenix.
“I’m so sorry. You’ve always meant a ton to me, I promise, I swear to you.” I put my hand over my heart. “Can we sit down and talk, please?”
He snickers, slipping his feet into both of his shoes. “You’re just saying random stuff, Serenity.”
I want to beg him to stop calling me Serenity. It doesn’t sound sweet and calming anymore. It sounds isolated. My name is becoming tangled on his tongue. Full of fear and some hidden layers, destined to distract me.
“You’re really gonna make up all that bullshit?”
“No Lake, she framed me!” I shake my head to myself, and I demand, “what happened to your face?”
This is a distraction, too. His face is bleeding and pulsing out in pain. He isn’t okay and I don’t know the reason, but he’s trying to stop me from figuring it out.
He snatches his jacket off of the rack. “None of your business.”
Oh God. What happened when I was gone? He’s packed up all of his things, tearing apart the home we’ve been building. This isn’t my husband. This is not the man that holds me the second he senses water filling my waterline. Something has shaken him, and it is taking hold of the man I know.
“Lake something happened.” I peer at his knuckles. “I just want to know if you’re okay.”
They’re bright red and cracking. His wedding ring has dried blood laced around it. He didn’t attack Caleb; he was fine at work, and I haven’t told Lake what happened yet. So not Caleb, and not Brooks. Brooks and Lake fight to mend disagreements, not to start them.
“What did I just say?” He picks up his box.
And that simple motion sends my cells into overdrive. They scatter and panic, hurling my blood, making my movements shaky. A thousand brutal scenarios pound at my brain and bust right through the entrance.
Lake doesn’t have to speak to me. He can be angry, he can leave, but he wouldn’t do that. He’s changed from that.
He just wouldn’t.
I squeeze my hand on the fabric over my chest. “I understand you’re angry—”
“You don’t understand anything.”
“I’m here to help you,” I plead, reaching out my hands, attempting to smooth them over his shoulders. I just want to hold him.
He draws back, keeping himself out of my reach. “I was here to help you, too, but you lied to me. So fuck it. I don’t need you.”
His words cut through my home, almost sealing himself off, separating himself from me, from this place, and that blade cuts me too. Right where I breathe for him.
“Please don’t leave—Is this over?” My breath glitches.
He meets my face for a second, and suddenly the box loosens in his hands. He discards his valuables and rushes up to me, cupping my face in his palms. Despite his anger, he’s still gentle when he touches me, and I rest in that comfort, observing the tears crowding his eyes that I couldn’t spot from far away.
“I should’ve told you, Phoenix. I’m sorry.”
I hurt him, but someone else hurt him, too. He’s not telling me who. He’s building without me, but how could I blame him? I’ve been keeping secrets. Why should he confide in me if I’ve been hiding the truth?
All I can do is persuade him to stay with me. Trying to solve the mystery he’s going through isn’t going to happen right now.
“You are not my charity case,” I whisper. “You know that.”
I swallow, tears streaming down my face. My chest feels tight. I can sense the anxiety bubbling into something fresh, but I refuse to have a panic attack when my husband needs me. There is no time to dwell on the billions of horrific thoughts replaying about him and his struggles. All I can have is hope.
“Please stay. Please don’t go,” I beg. “Let me get you cleaned up, honey. I’ll find a way to bake you brownies. We can watch a movie and talk about this.” I tense my arms at my sides so I don’t attempt to clutch onto him again. “Or we won’t talk, but we can be okay.”
He drops back his neck and blinks, keeping the tears in his eyes.
My next words come out broken, a clear voice of desperation, but my words ring true. “I love you, Phoenix.”
Lake turns his head away from me, tucking in his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. If I wasn’t paying such close attention, I would’ve missed this too, but I see his eyes drop to my lips for nothing more than a moment. He keeps hold of my cheeks, his hands shaking the tiniest bit.
I’m taking in all that I can. The way his waves are curling around his scalp and the damage of each new mark on his face. I’m struggling to not give in to the breaking beneath my ribs, so I memorize every piece of him, including how his touch feels. Even now, my body and mind react all the same.
But then his hands plunge from my face. “I don’t love you, Angel.”
I stop breathing. Entirely, because he’s running from me, taking that air out of my lungs and not giving it back. He’s running from me, sinking deeper into the ocean, going somewhere I can’t swim to. Somewhere much darker and scary—much more unknown.
I need to hold it together. I need to be the glue. His words are seeping, but I’ll let them simmer and burn for as long as I can.
“Lake.” I stay still. I don’t think I could walk if I tried. “Tell me what happened to your face. Please. I don’t want you to go anywhere. How can I trust that you’ll be okay?”
His jaw tenses. “You lost the right to worry.”
I open my mouth, but nothing leaves it. There’s nothing I can say. I could’ve done something a million times worse, and he wouldn’t stay angry, because that is Lake. He could’ve pulled something heinous, and I’d forgive him, because that’s me. This is who we are, changing and expanding, but doing it together.
I’m mature enough to know I screwed up, and I’m smart enough to know it’s not why he’s leaving. This cannot be why he is leaving.
He clings to his belongings. Then he stops, rolls back his shoulders and turns his neck, but he doesn’t look at me. Maybe he’s sparing me the pain of seeing that anger blazing in the handsome brown shade. Or maybe he’s scared to look me in my eyes.
I stay frozen in place, feeling unanswered. Not another word leaves either of us. Instead the door shuts, plugging off the outside dew, and when Lake’s fading silhouette wholly disappears, the last bit of air leaves my lungs.
It’s not coming back.
When Lake’s heart started pumping under my hands, it was the first time in a year my body felt clear. Not because of my sister. I was falling even before she passed. I felt my cup pouring out at rapid speeds and emptying before my eyes, but I kept overflowing into others. Lake found me in a time where that cup had run fully dry.
Saving his life, hearing that flatline end, changing into a slow beating heart, it made me feel like I had control over myself again. Just for that minute.
And I took a deep breath, exhaling after twelve long months. Then I kept breathing. It happens whenever he kisses me, clearing the tightness in my breastbone. I breathe when he makes me laugh. I pull in oxygen each time he makes me eat a delicious, full meal.
But it’s all gone.
His truck rolls down the driveway. The headlights washing through the window. I stay stagnant until those lights fade out down the street, and as all of me feels his presence fading, I burst out into heavy sobs, but that tightness in me stays, preventing me from catching my inhales.
I need to text Brooks. I need to ensure Lake goes to his apartment and stays there, so I rush to my purse and pull out my phone through blurry eyes. My jittery hands are almost incapable of sending a message.
Lake and I have been protecting one another since we met, because it was never fake. It’s why we’re both alive. Free. It’s why I kept him in my home, slipped a ring on my finger, let him make love to me, trusted what he made me, bought me. I trusted everything he’s been telling me.
It’s why I love him.
He’s built around himself without me. He’s twisted my love and stained his heart, but I know something else happened, and I’m not leaving his life up to chance, no matter how pissed he is with me—no matter how much I don’t understand.
He can throw me away, but he’s not throwing away his sobriety. He needs River’s letters.
This text to Brooks. Maybe, hopefully, it’ll save my husband.
I hit send, and my knees give out below me, harshly dropping my body onto the ground. I hold on to my chest, trying to find stability, an angle I can at least wheeze from. All that comes is weakness, heavy aches, and the purest form of panic. I sit on my floor and ask myself;
Am I dying?