Free Between Breaths (The Seattle Sound Series Book 2) by Alexa Padgett

him to take you away. You were a temptation I couldn’t resist. I wanted to be with you, not in a treatment center.” She gestured to the room. “They weren’t as nice as this. I found out later, after years of therapy, the intensity of my love for you also brought about more focused negative emotions like rage and depression. They were focused on you because I loved you. So much.”
    “You loved me so much you ran away?” I sneered.
    Kelly stepped forward, laid her hand on my mother’s frail shoulder. The nurse sent me a glare that said “you better calm down” before she refocused on my mother.
    I gnashed my teeth. I didn’t want to calm the fuck down. I wanted to yell at the nurse. I wanted to run from my mother’s comments. My fingers were through my hair, trying to ease the confusion and anger cracking open my chest. “Dad said you needed time. But you’d decided I wasn’t worth the effort.”
    “No! God, no, Hayden. I just . . . I struggled for years with the depression. Because I missed you. I spent most of that time in and out of facilities.”
    “Well, isn’t that convenient,” I scoffed. “For your story.”
    “George told me that leaving was best for all of us. That I could start over.” The machines started beeping.
    “Miriam, you need to calm down,” Kelly said.
    “Why? So I can live longer? I’m dying. Hayden needs to understand—”
    “I’ll come by tomorrow,” I said as I strode toward the door.
    “Hayden, I was your age.” My mum’s voice was edged with panic. “I didn’t know how to fight for you. We didn’t know then what we know now about the disease.”
    I stopped, turned slowly to face her. “That you passed along the chance of me being just as fucked up as you are? That’s all I know about bipolar disorder. It’s genetic. You gave me a life sentence, just like yours.”
    “I didn’t understand how to manage the disorder then,” she whispered.
    My shoulders hunched inward. “Do you have any idea how hard it was, growing up with a dad old enough to be my grandfather and a mum who ran away?” I asked, my voice vibrating with a fury I’d worked for years to suppress. I searched her face. “Do you have any idea how hard being alone was on Dad? How much I wished for one phone call—just one—where you told me you loved me?” I crossed my arms over my chest, holding in some of my righteous anger. “Of course you don’t. You didn’t see Dad age overnight or hold me when I cried into my pillow for weeks on end. Because you left .”
    “No, honey. Your move, my leaving . . . it wasn’t like that, Hayden. I always loved you . . .”
    “Not enough to do anything about it.”
    I strode down the hall and slammed my hand against the release bar of the front door with more force than necessary. I cursed as I stumbled out the door. The cool air slapped me in the face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
    I wanted to hit something but I wouldn’t. I refused violence of all kinds. I still remembered those moments when my mum had slapped me.
    I glanced around, looking for some outlet. Nothing. I needed to calm down enough to drive myself away from this place. I pressed my palms against the side of the building, trying to draw in enough air to loosen the tightness in my chest. I needed a keyboard to pound out my frustrations. No one would get hurt if I played out my emotions.
    A hand slid over my wrist. I turned to see Briar, this woman I barely knew, thankful for her steady presence. I buried my nose in her neck, my arms wrapped tight around her, and finally I could breathe. She slid her arms over my shoulders and rocked me like mums do their small children. And just as I’d always assumed, there was comfort in that sway, in those warm arms.
    “You listened,” I mumbled into the soft skin of her neck.
    She nodded. Her fingers slid into the hair at the nape of my neck. I liked that she didn’t offer platitudes. “Enough to know this isn’t our afternoon. I’d just