Page 55 of Room to Breathe

I stood there, still unable to process, the barstool at the counter pressing into my hips. “We’re going to get me a car? Right now?”

“Do you not want a car?”

“No, I mean, yes, I do. For sure.”

“Then get your shoes on. Let’s go.”

I looked down at my feet. I wore a pair of fuzzy striped socks. “What about Dad? Should we ask him? Wait for him?” Wait until their money situation was more stable? I didn’t say that last one out loud.

“No,” she said in one short staccato response.

“Okay, shoes,” I said, rushing off to grab them. Maybe this made me selfish, wanting a car despite everything, but my own car felt like freedom right now, like escape, and I needed that.

Innocent or not, I wondered if this investigation was going to ruin my parents’ marriage, our family.

Chapter 23

Now

My eyes were drooping. Ithad to be past midnight. Probably past one. The ground was hard, but the sweatshirt under my head was soft, making it bearable. And Beau’s voice was soothing as he read another chapter out loud from the book. He’d already read three. This was the fourth. It was a good book, but I was starting to lose the storyline the sleepier I got. I didn’t want to fall asleep.

Beau was still sitting against the wall. He didn’t seem sleepy or stiff or uncomfortable. He looked like an art model. Like someone was going to come paint his portrait as he sat there, one knee up, the opposite foot beneath it, the book resting on top. One hand held the book with strong fingers. The other gripped the back of his neck, occasionally massaging it. His lashes looked extra-long with his eyes downcast like they were, on the page. His hair flopped onto his forehead and over his ears.

After our hug earlier, we’d both been awkward. I’d pulled away first, feeling like I didn’t deserve any kind of comfort orforgiveness from Beau, if that’s what it was. His gaze had moved to his hands, where he picked at a hangnail.

“Should I read another chapter?” he’d asked.

“Yes,” I’d answered too quickly.

Now things felt less awkward as I lay there listening and he sat there reading. Now things felt almost normal. Well, if normal was six months ago.

“Do you want my socks?”

My eyes flew open. “What?”

“Are you asleep?”

“Probably,” I said.

He chuckled and set the book aside.

“It’s good,” I said. “I like it.”

“Yeah, it’s good.” He pointed to his feet, which were still in shoes. “Do you?”

“What? No. I’m not going to steal your socks.” I was surprised he was offering. I was sure that having bare feet in a public bathroom was the last thing he wanted.

“They might help you sleep better tonight,” he said.

“No, it’s okay…thank you, though.”

He bit his lip as his eyes traveled the room. Had he always been a lip biter? He had full lips. I didn’t remember that. No, I remembered that.

“Um…”

“What?” I said.

“I’m tired too.”