Hold My Breath (25 page)

“Will, we’re not done,” she says.

I tilt my head and twist my lips, my eyes catching a glimpse of Curtis and the Cumberlands behind her. They’ve gotten enough juice, and they know it. I let my gaze fall to Donna, still perched on her chair, waiting for me to come back and fulfill my duty. I’ve given enough.

“Actually, we are,” I say, walking toward Maddy, who is now standing near the door, next to my uncle.

My heart is angry—it’s pounding against the walls of my chest, and I can barely contain my desire to scream. But I see her. Maddy’s face is calm, she’s sure and safe—she’s home.

“Come on,” she says, tugging my arm toward her as she takes steps to the front door. “Let’s get out of here.”

Responsibility…promises—that weight is pulling at my back, clawing at me and reminding me that I should go back, finish what I promised and find a way to make everyone happy. But I’m tired. I’m so tired, and I don’t trust my decisions anymore.

I let Maddy lead, unknotting my tie from my neck as we walk through the parking lot to her car, on our way handing my jacket and the tie to my uncle. He doesn’t ask questions, and nobody follows us, or begs us to stay. They’re done with me, and I’m done with them. I’m not pretending for Evan anymore. I just need to set the story straight for one more person.

“They’re going to start talking about us…romantically,” I say the second I shut the passenger door.

Maddy turns over the engine and fastens her seat belt before twisting to look me in the eyes.

“Let them talk,” she says, her expression resolved. She’s done, too.

“You and Evan…they’re going to talk about that, too,” I say.

“I know,” she whispers her response. Her eyes linger on mine for a few seconds before she leans back in her seat, checks her mirrors, and pulls us into reverse.

Evan’s perfect legacy…it ends here.

* * *

* * *

T
he boy
I used to chase—his speed, his drive—that boy is gone. The anger and resentment—the fumes that Will has been using to push himself in the pool, through life—it’s all gone, too. He has carried it all for years, and he’s finally hit his limit.

He hasn’t asked where we’re going. I turned right onto the highway, and I’m pretty sure he knew. These secrets, sorting out who needs to know what, who can handle what truths—it’s killing him. It ends now…here…today.

I find the familiar street easily, turning from the highway and winding down the neighborhood road lined with houses and dirt lawns, cars parked in yards, and dogs chained to stakes out front. I stop near the gray one, the ramp in front—Dylan’s ramp. The van is parked outside, which means they are both home. I haven’t gotten to know Tanya well, but I know enough from her spirit to be sure that she and Dylan are never—
ever—
apart if she’s at home.

I park quickly along the curb and turn to Will, his eyes locked straight ahead, just as they’ve been for the last hour.

“This part is for me to tell. This isn’t yours, Will,” I say. His head leans toward me and his hand slides over mine, squeezing.

“It’s all mine, Maddy,” he says.

“No, you’ve just gotten used to convincing yourself of that. It’s really not,” I say. His eyes flit to mine, and they are filled with defeat. We need to clear the air completely so I can help him find the champion that lives inside of him. And when I’m done here with Tanya, I intend on telling him all about the odds he’s up against in the pool. His fire is out, but I aim to light a new one.

“You visit with Dylan. Your heart needs it,” I say, his lip quirking up at my suggestion just before he nods.

We both cross the dried-grass lawn, and I knock on the door before nerve leaves me and doubt steps in. My hands tingle at my sides, and I flex my fingers in and out, my purse feeling like a tourniquet on my arm. I can hear the footsteps on the other side of the door, and I know she lives here alone—she’s cautious.

“Tanya, it’s Maddy and Will,” I say.

The door handle unlocks and when I meet her gaze, her mouth pinched on one side, flat on the other, I get the sense that she knows why I’m here. She doesn’t hesitate to open the door wider to let us both inside.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Of course,” she follows. She steps up on the tips of her toes and hugs Will, kissing his cheek.

“Dylan’s in his room,” she says, her sightline shifting to me.

“I’m going to go say hi,” Will says, leaning toward me and planting a single kiss on top of my head before turning to head down the short hallway.

I scan around the space that was buried in organized clutter just a few days ago. Boxes are still stacked as tall as I am, but they’ve all been pushed against the far wall. Laundry piles are gone, except for one last stack of towels, and a quick glance toward the kitchen shows she’s been working hard in there, too.

“I had a little help,” she says, shrugging and quirking her lip as she sits down on the opposite end of the sofa, turning her knees toward me. “I get a cleaning lady once a month, and she helps me get back on top of it.”

She breathes out a laugh.

“It takes about thirty days for it to all fall to shit again,” she chuckles.

I smile, and we hold our eye contact for a few seconds, reflecting pleasant melancholy faces at one another.

“Is Will okay?” she finally asks.

My chest shakes with a sad, quiet laugh, and I glance down to the table in front of us, a few boxes and papers strewn on top.

“I don’t think Will’s been okay for a long time,” I say, glancing back to meet her eyes.

She tugs her mouth in on one side and nods, agreeing.

“He had a rough interview today,” I say, her brow lowering as she listens. “The reporter brought up me…Will got protective.”

Her head moves slowly up and down, her mouth still tight, but curving in recognition. Will being protective is nothing new to her.

“That man…he just wants to help. He’s protective of Dylan, too. He’d do anything for him. I’m too over my head not to accept it, and I hate that I have to because I see what it does to him. But Dylan needs a team. Hell,” she leans back, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers while she laughs. “Dylan needs Will to be his team captain. That boy is a fighter, and he needs someone to show him how to keep fighting. I kinda…”

She stops, leaning forward and turning to face me more.

“I kinda can’t think of anyone more perfect to teach someone how to fight than Will,” she says.

My eyes drop to my knees, and my cheeks push high with my smile. She’s right.

“Just when I think he can’t be more amazing,” I chuckle, twisting my head to look at her sideways. I raise my eyebrows, no need to finish my words.

“I know,” she agrees.

I look down again, considering the gaps she’s filled in—the ones I owe her. I turn as she moves closer, pulling one leg up to tuck under her body. I face her, feeling more at ease and wanting to show her respect. She props one elbow on the back of the couch, resting her cheek against her fist, and she studies me with her kind, tired eyes.

“You love him,” she says.

I smile at the mere mention of the word.

“I do,” I say. My lips pucker with my smile and my cheeks flush.

“He deserves that…so do you,” she says.

I glance up and quirk a brow.

“Thanks?” I say it like a question, a tiny nervous laugh leaking out.

She continues to stare, and my mouth starts to tingle from the effort to maintain my expression. My eyebrows pull in, and suddenly my mouth relaxes. My breath escapes and my shoulders sink.

She knows.

“How long were you with Evan?”

Tanya’s eyes lock to mine the moment she speaks. I hold her gaze, blinking when she does, speaking with my eyes. After several seconds, she looks down.

“Oh,” she says.

Her chest shakes once, and she reaches up to run her wrist under her right eye.

“I’m sorry,” she laughs nervously, barely a whisper. “I’m not sure why I’m reacting like this. It’s not…it’s not really a surprise. I knew for sure when I saw you. Evan…he had your pictures on his phone. He said you were friends, but a girl can tell.”

She rests her face on her arm along the sofa back, and she blinks away the remnants of tears.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I say, grabbing her hand in mine on instinct. We’re both sisters in this twisted, tragic circumstance.

“It’s not yours either,” she says, her gaze flitting up to me briefly. Her eyes are red, and I feel gravity pulling me down hard, guilt like a weight tied to my insides. My own eyes begin to sting. I run my thumbs under them, pausing when I look up to see Tanya doing the same. We both start to laugh, quietly.

“Boy, Evan Hollister was a real prick,” she says through a mix of mad laughter and tears.

“It’s starting to seem so, yes,” I agree.

Tanya’s right hand forms a fist, and she presses it against her mouth as she glances away.

“How did you find out about me? From Will?” she asks, glancing at me sideways.

I nod
yes
.

“You must have thought I was awful,” she says, her eyelids sweeping closed, her knuckles still flush against her lips.

“For a little while, yes,” I admit. “But Will told me everything. I didn’t hate you after that, and when I met you…and Dylan.”

She sucks in her bottom lip, her eyes opening on me before she turns to look over her shoulder, down the hallway.

“He’s an amazing kid,” she says. “He’s hard…oh god, is he hard. And there are days,” she pauses, shifting her posture and moving her hand open, pressing the palm against her chin. Her eyes stare back out into the room, and I see her slip away to someplace else, the corner of her mouth drawing down, her chin denting—as if she’s going to be sick.

She is going to be sick.

“Come on,” I say quickly, sliding my arm behind her back, carrying her weight and moving with her quickly into the kitchen. I turn on the faucet while she leans on me, and I start to cup water in my open hand, splashing it on her neck and forehead. She’s breaking out in a sweat, her normal pale skin is growing paler.

“I’m going to throw up,” she coughs, not able to move herself quickly enough as yellow, acidic bile drips from her lips.

“Tanya, that doesn’t look good. You might have the flu, or food poisoning,” I say, switching into my nursing mode.

“No, I’m okay,” she says, coughing again and spitting out more vomit.

“When was the last time you ate?” I ask, turning the water on higher before bending down to open up the cabinet in search of a switch for the disposal.

I stand back up and put my hand on her back, rubbing in circles while she rests her chin on her folded palms, the water running in front of her and her eyes squeezed shut.

“I’d feel better if we at least saw your doctor, or maybe urgent care…I don’t want Dylan to catch something if you’re contagious,” I say.

Tanya’s body starts to shake, and I press my hand to her harder, kneeling down to look her in the eyes. I rest my head on my hands next to her, both of us bent over the edge of the sink, and her eyes flit open to mine.

“You can’t catch cancer,” she says.

Her words sink in quickly, followed by the crashing train they carry along with them. I lift my head just as she does, and we both stand.

“You being so tired…it wasn’t just
you being tired…
was it?”

She breathes in slowly through her nose, then exhales swiftly. She doesn’t answer or shake her head. I don’t ask any more questions. We simply stare at one another, understanding how cruel fate can be.

After nearly a minute, Tanya breaks our gaze, her hand wrapped around the edge of the counter to steady herself while she cleans the sink and runs a towel along the counter surface with her other. I reach to help, but her hand stops the instant I move to take the towel from her.

“I know you want to help, but I need to do what I can do on my own, Maddy. While I can,” she says.

“While…” I repeat that key word, my eyes glued on Tanya’s profile. Her eyes close again, then open on me.

“This is my second fight. Ovarian. I had a hysterectomy. De-bulking surgeries. Chemotherapy,” she says. I don’t blink. I’ve been around this—I’ve seen this. I know what she’s saying before she says it. She isn’t giving up, but she’s going to lose anyway.