Free 3 Breaths by LK Collins Page B

mom gathering my tux off the floor.
    “What’s going on, Mom?”
    “Hey, Krane, sorry to barge in, but your dad kept the extra key.”
    Of course he did.
    Thank God she didn’t walk in last night.
    “I was just collecting your tux; I’m gonna return it for you when we get back home.”
    “Thanks, Mom. I think I left my coat at the bar last night.”
    “I’ll find it for you, dear.” She looks at me with the ball of my clothes tightly in her grip. “Thank you for everything that you did for Mia this weekend.” She goes to leave and I stop her.
    “Mom.”
    “Yes, Krane.”
    “Thank you for putting up with me. I know I’m difficult.”
    “It’s my job, you’re my only son. I’m worried for you. I only want what’s best for you, and sometimes I don’t know how to help you with that, but I won’t give up. I’m always here if you ever want to talk.”
    I’d rather not burden my mom with my problems. Kissing her on the cheek, I close the door behind her, praying my apology will cover my shitty behavior these last several months. The look in her eyes was hopeful, a great thing to see, but it won’t last long. I’ll let her down again; I always do.
    Packing up my bag, I see a missed call from an unknown number. There is a message and as I play it on speaker, my world yet again…crumbles down around me.

    “What do you mean I have ’til the end of the month?” I ask the overly rude woman on the other end of the line.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Hensley, but you and Miss Winslow only signed a one-year lease. I’m afraid that this is your last month and with the current economy, rates have gone up. I can look and see if we have a cheaper apartment for you to move into.”
    “Didn’t you hear what I said? Zoë’s dead and I don’t even live there anymore.”
    “Then what’s the problem with moving out?”
    I hang up on her. I’m not about to get more into my personal life than I already have. I’ve known for a while that this was coming; now I’m just forced to actually do it. This falls on my shoulders. Zoë was mine, she was my fiancée and soon would have been my wife, so I have to handle her things.
    But imagining doing it without Ivy is almost impossible. Looking through my contacts, I panic needing to talk to her. And then remember what I did last night. Fuck, I really wish I hadn’t deleted her number. Looking out the window, resolve settles over me.
    I have to go see her to make things right and it isn’t ’cause I need her right now. It’s because as I think of the things I did last night, I’m more and more convinced that is not the person I want to be. Ivy makes me better, and a week without her has broken me even further down than six months without Zoë already has. I’m drinking even more now. I miss my friend, plain and simple. I don’t want anything more than to see her smile and be there for each other like we used to be.
    Jogging down the stairs of my apartment, I get in my truck and check the time. She should still be working, so I head that way hoping I don’t piss her off showing up there.
    Parking in the first spot I see, I head inside on a mission. As I look around wildly for her, I am disappointed when I don’t spot her, so I tell the receptionist, “I’m here to see Ivy Winslow, please.”
    She blinks a few times and then says, “I’m sorry, but she doesn’t work here anymore.”
    “What?” I ask the girl, confused.
    “She’s no longer employed here.” The woman repeats slowly, like I am a fucking idiot.
    “Since when?” I ask, agitated, gripping the counter.
    “I don’t have the authority to—”
    I cut her off, pissed, and lean lower, getting in her face. “Since when?” I ask again, in a low, deep voice.
    She looks around the room, and then whispers, “Since last week. She just stopped coming in is all I know.”
    I shake my head, sick with fear, and pat the counter once before I walk off. Why in the world would she stop going in to work? Driving to