Free Don't Forget to Breathe by Cathrina Constantine Page A

hushed.
    Through my puffy eyelids, I peered at him.
    “I hope you can forgive me?”
    Like a fool I stared and scrubbed the damp napkin under my leaky nose.
    Pretty much composed as he pulled into my driveway, I couldn’t wait to escape the car. When I opened the door, his fingers manacled my forearm holding me in place. “Do you feel better?” he asked.
    “Yes.” I obliged him with a tragic grin. “I…I don’t know why…sorry…um…that was… awkward .”
    “My fault.” Liberating my arm, the pressure of his fingers remained. Toned with regret, he repeated, “Totally my fault.” He shouldered the driver’s door and crossed over to my side of the car. I didn’t move, wondering what he was doing. He snapped open the rear door and grabbed my messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder. I’d completely forgotten about it. Together, we walked to the side entrance of my house.
    My first and last date with Becket Kane.
    What was strumming through his brain right now? Feeling humiliated and demure I sensed his nearness as my key slid into the lock. I hadn’t the foggiest idea what to say and turned, not meeting his eyes. “Thanks,” I muttered and chanced a peek into his face.
    Guarded eyes stared down at me. Slow, like he was worried of frightening a frenzied rabbit, his hands came up. Generating a surge of stirrings, he smoothed his fingertips on the sides of my neck. Becket perched his thumbs under my chin and raised my head. My breath held as he browsed over my face like he was bearing to mind every angle and curve.
    He leaned near. The coolness of his lips brushed my cheekbone. Every nerve ending in my body spluttered and sparked. The fullness of his mouth skimmed to the corner of my lips. He retreated a mere inch and our breaths mingled as he scrutinized my expression. He closed the short distance, molding his mouth perfectly to mine. An ambush of sensations detonated like the fourth of July.
    I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to, though I reminded myself to breathe. Becket withdrew registering a muted throat hum. Then unhooking the messenger bag from his shoulder, he handed it off. I discerned a faint tug on the rim of his mouth as he turned away.
    He accelerated down the driveway, never glancing back.
     

Chapter 12
    “Nona, guess what I’m calling you on?”
    “Your father got you a new cell!” She guessed. “What’d you tell him?”
    “The truth, I was making a call and tripped, it fell out of my hands and didn’t realize it was missing until it was too late.”
    “And where did you trip and fall, hun? You’ve kind of left me out of the loop.”
    I didn’t want to get Nona involved with the murder of Skipper Townsend and David Galbraith, but she’d badger me until I broke. “On the railroad tracks a few of nights ago.”
    “The tracks? What were you doing over in that part of town? You usually don’t go there anymore.”
    “Just went for a hike.”
    “With who—not yourself.”
    “I was with Henry.”
    “Oh, Lord, you weren’t doing the naughty with that boy were you?”
    “We were drinking beers…and stuff.”
    “Leo, you’re just getting clean. Don’t let that boy drag you back to hell. See, that’s why I don’t trust him.”
    “He’s not so…bad.” I’d been fooling myself and pretty sure Henry had a dark side.
    “Hmmm…” She hesitated. “I’ve been waiting for some mouth-watering information. What happened with Becket? Was it so-so? C’mon girl I’m waiting here.”
    “Are you going to let me speak?” I reflected on what to say. “The truth—it was dreadful.”
    “Oh, no.” She groaned. “Was he arrogant or something? Did he treat you bad? If he did, I’m going to beat him to a pulp.”
    A depressed chuckle rumbled in my chest. “No, Nona. It wasn’t him. It was me.” Ousting a breath into the phone, I rolled on the mattress from my stomach onto my back.
    “Leo, you’re a sweet thing. How’d you mess it up?”
    “You remember how everyone