I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

“Tatum, breathe for me.  You can do it, baby, just breathe.”

And with a hitched sob, the balloon bursts, and my world comes to a crashing halt.

CHAPTER NINETEEN  

Jacoby

There hasn’t be a more heart wrenching sight than watching Tatum struggle with her panic and fight for breath.  True, having to deal with the knowledge of Harper’s death was the most tragic moment of my life to date, but it’s like that moment and now are on different ends of the spectrum.  Harper’s was so final.  I heard the news and it was over.  There wasn’t anything I could do to change the outcome.  I still struggle with the fact she’s gone and my own guilt for her death, but her loss is more a constant, lingering ache in my soul.  But watching Tatum scared out of her fucking mind, so much so she can’t even breathe, feels like a knife plunging into my heart repeatedly.  It’s fresh and it’s violent, and it’s breaking my damn heart.

  Tatum doesn’t even seem aware of me anymore.  Her eyes are clenched tight, and her face is at least three shades paler than her usual color.  She keeps whipping her head back and forth, making a sound so similar to a slowly deflating balloon it’s making me stomach roil.  I don’t know if I should call 9-1-1 or if she’ll snap out of it, so I do the only thing that feels natural and right.

I brace her body with my own, burying my face in the curve of her neck.  The smell of her hair, of apricots and rain, fills my nose, and the effect is calming.  I begin speaking gently in her ear, while inside I’m begging for the fear consuming her to give her back to me.

“Tatum, breathe for me.  You can do it, baby, just breathe.”

She makes the most horrible, heartbreaking sob before completely dissolving into a puddle of tears.  The relief is so complete, I feel my own eyes begin to water.  Without a second thought, I tuck her close, one hand cradling her head against my shoulder while the other one begins soothingly stroking up and down her spine.

“Shh.  Hush.  It’s alright.  I’ve got you.”

Over and over I repeat the words I think will help her shake off the lingering distress.  My heart feels like it’s been shoved through a meat grinder, I can’t imagine what’s going through her head right this moment.

My head?  I feel like a fucking idiot.  This was too fast.  I was too harsh, too direct.  Should have slowed things down but instead, I reacted like a horny teenager who can’t keep it in his pants for all of five minutes.  Which draws my attention to the fact she’s still mostly naked.  Reaching over her trembling form, I grab the comforter tucked in the end of the bed and give it a hard tug, pulling it up and over the both of us.

She burrows into my neck as if she’s trying to crawl inside my body to live there.  I wish she could.  I wish she could crawl inside and build a house, and I could protect her from anything that tries to hurt her.  Including herself.

Tatum’s a cutter.  From the looks of it, a pretty frequent one.  Why would she harm herself?  Is she suicidal?  Fuck…I dismiss that thought as quickly as it comes.  No way can I lose another one.  I can’t go through that again.

She’s not the attention seeking type.  Her hair to her clothes to her personality all say unique.  And not in an emo angsty way.  Just…Tatum.  She’s just Tatum and I know there’s more to her cutting than I can even try to guess.

“Jacoby?”

Tatum’s voice rouses me from a doze, and when I crack my eyes open, everything is dark.  Her soft, naked body is tucked tightly to my side.  Her head rests along the curve of my shoulder, and the sweet smell of her hair is tickling my nose.  Even in the dark I don’t miss the way she cradles her wrists against her chest as if to hide or protect them even in sleep.  Lifting my head in the direction of my nightstand, I see the clock reads 3:12 in obnoxiously bright red numbers.

“Yeah, Sweetheart?”

“Are you awake?”  Her voice is hoarse and soft, and the sound makes the steady ache in my chest revive with a vengeance.  She sounds like she screamed herself raw.

Tightening my arm around her shoulders to convey I’m listening, I roll slightly toward her so we’re lying side by side.  Even with the nonverbal gesture, I answer her with my own throaty, “Yeah.”

“I, uh, I’m sorry about, uh you know, and I think it’s probably best if I leave.”

Her words come as a surprise.  But they shouldn’t.  Tatum has proven over and over she has an unparalleled ability to pull away and hide when the situation becomes too much.  Fuck if I’ll let her get away with it this time.  If I get my way she won’t be leaving my sight for the foreseeable future.  For the first time in two years I’ve found someone I want.  Someone who makes my heart beat just a little bit faster by just being near.  Someone who I’m ready to risk my reputation on because she’s worth any possible consequence.  For the first time in two years my heart feels a little less like a black hole in my chest.

To drive my point further, I roll my body until I’m entirely covering her warm soft curves from chest to toes.  The darkness is too thick to see her face, but her breath breezes against my lips in a soft, surprised hitch.

“You’re not going anywhere.  Not in the middle of the night, but especially not before we talk,” I growl against her lips before capturing her sweet taste in a lingering kiss.  Her chest heaves beneath my own, brushing her breasts against my chest and bringing my full awareness to our state of nakedness.  A possessiveness surges inside of me.  I want to protect this girl, no matter the cost.

Her voices releases in a breathy whisper, “I just don’t think this is good for me.”

“What’s not good for you?”

“Letting you in,” she replies, a touch of sadness in her voice.

“What’s not good about someone listening to you?”  I lean around her to kiss below her ear.

“Caring for you.” I kiss her nose.

“Keeping you safe.” I kiss her eyes.

“Making love to you.” I kiss her jaw.

“Making you smile.” I kiss her slightly upturned lips.  “You let me in and you’ll get all that plus much, much more.”

Tatum trembles beneath me.  “But how can this work?” she questions and I want to yell at the hopeful feeling pulsating in my chest.  But I don’t.  Even if I can get her to relax and give this a chance, I know we have a long road ahead of us.  I’m trying to give her a reprieve, but the image of her slashed and scarred wrists has been burned into my brain.  And it’s no small matter.

“We’ll take it slow,” I respond before trailing kisses down her jaw.  I was talking about more than just the relationship.  I’ve reached my limit of sitting still with her naked curves beneath me.

“You could get fired.”

“We’ll be discreet,” I whisper into the hollow of her throat before tracing her collarbone with my tongue.  Tatum arches beneath me, smashing her breasts more firmly against my chest.  The friction of her skin is intoxicating.

“But what about—“

“Shh.  Close your mind.  Don’t think right now.  Just feel.”  We have all the time in the world to talk about what happened tonight, what’s going to happen in the future.  Right now, the only thing I care about is erasing her pain and making her feel good.

So that’s what we do.

Tatum’s breaths become gasps and moans in my ear as I move my mouth across her naked body.  Licking, tasting, absorbing every part of her my mouth can reach.  My movements are soft and unhurried.  I want to convey how serious I am about her.  About us.  I want her to experience every touch without the rush to the finish line.  But most of all, I want to show her she can use me.  A distraction, a release, an escape, whatever she needs, she can use me instead of the self-harming methods she’s trained herself to use.  My body is the shuttle to carry her away from the darkness that lives inside her.  And I’ll do everything in my willpower to rocket her straight to the sun.