Breathing

By Rebekkah Rogers

Beth thought her world would never be the same after her husband’s death. Raising children on her own she assumed she would be lucky to survive and never dreamed she would be faced with a blast from her past that would help her learn to breathe again.

Graham spends his days working for the sheriff’s department and running “The Club” he thought he would always be in the shadows as he watched the woman he loved, knowing he could never be in her life.

One chance encounter sets a mad man in action and they must race to find out how best to protect them all.

Breathing is a smoking hot suspense guaranteed to keep the sparks flying while you sit in breathless anticipation.

This book is intended for mature audiences only due to strong sexual content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebekkah Rogers
• Release date: Feb 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9780991502004

Rebekkah Rogers

Rebekkah Rogers has been writing in secret her whole life. It wasn’t until she met her super hero and he dared her to make her secret known that her debut novel Breathing was finally put to paper. Residing in a suburb of Phoenix, Rebekkah is usually reading two or three books at a time and writing at least one. She is a member of several writing groups and remains active in them by beta reading, providing critiques and reviews as well as troubleshooting ideas for new and established authors. www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomrebekkah

Book preview

BREATHING

Copyright © 2014 by Rebekkah Rogers

Coffee Cup Publishing

SMASHWORDS EDITION

ISBN: 978-0-9915020-0-4

Cover by Stephanie Lynn Nelson

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All Rights are Reserved

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without express written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

This book is intended for mature audiences only.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1 Beth

Chapter 2 Graham

Chapter 3 Beth

Chapter 4 Graham

Chapter 5 Beth

Chapter 6 Beth

Chapter 7 Graham

Chapter 8 Britt

Chapter 9 Beth

Chapter 10 Graham

Chapter 11 Beth

Chapter 12 Graham

Chapter 13 Beth

Chapter 14 Beth

Chapter 15 Graham

Chapter 16 Beth

Epilogue

Prologue

I could feel them arguing on the couch. I had my earbuds in and my eyes averted because I just didn't want to see it, but they are boys, and it only takes three minutes for all hell to break loose. Stop fighting, I yelled, although it did little good as they knew I wasn't going to do anything about it. I was elbow deep in dish suds and not really paying attention. They're aware that I'm not in my enforcement mode.

Just as I was finishing up, the door bell rang. I glanced at the boys racing to the door and did not give it a second thought it's probably the neighbor's kids. Our house was turning into a teen flop house and starting to smell like one, as well.

I felt, rather than saw, the stress on my son's body when he came in and told me that the door was for me. I could see the men as soon as I rounded the wall from the kitchen to the foyer. Uniforms…these men were in uniforms. But why? The boys were here and I just got off the phone with Marc half an hour ago. He had said that he was pulling into his office and would be a few more hours there before he came home.

Mrs. Williams? the older officer asked while reaching out to take my hand. Without waiting on my reply, he pulled me forward and started walking in the house. May we come in?

Yes, of course, officers. How may I help you? My always-polite work voice came out even when I didn't plan it. I motioned for them to sit.

Ma'am, there was a shooting today.

I heard the ma'am, but couldn't relate the shooting to me. Did he think that I was old? He's probably my age–late thirties–with slight graying at the temples. It's kind of hot. Hey–I'm married, not dead. I really should focus more.

A shooting? What happened? Who was hurt? I couldn't figure out why the county sheriff would come to me, as I had no one here in this area but us. We moved here only three years ago with my husband's company.

Mrs. Williams, do you know Sarah Thomas? Deputy Hottie asked.

Is she ok? She's such a sweet thing; she's my husband's secretary. She's a co-op student and can't be more than twenty. What the hell happened? Oh God…is Marc ok? I couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. I could see the lines of stress on the younger cops face revealing that he was worried.

It appears that her boyfriend suspected she was having an affair with a man in the office and went in to confront her and her boyfriend. As I understand it, it's your husband that she was having an affair with, ma'am. I'm sorry.

I chuckle because I know how this looks. No, my husband was not seeing Sarah. She was trying to get rid of her boyfriend because he was harassing her, so she approached me and asked if it would be okay to ask Marc to play her boyfriend. They were not having an affair. If you ask around, it was actually one of his partner's ideas. It seemed to work for her, so I let it go. What happened?

Deputy Hottie actually rolled his eyes. It appears that Ms. Thomas was not at her desk, but out at your husband's truck to help him unload some boxes when Mr. Chase, her estranged boyfriend, started shooting. Both Ms. Thomas and your husband were shot. Ms. Thomas died before the first responders arrived. Your husband was taken to St Margaret's Sacred Heart. However, he did not make it. I'm sorry to tell you that he died en route.

As my hand came to my mouth, I realized my sons were standing next to the couch watching, not fighting. I could neither think nor breathe. My mind was swamped with images of how our life was supposed to be. They say before you die your life flashed before your eyes. This must be similar…I didn't die, but my life is over, stopped. The flashes are fast and cutting, our arguments, our best moments, our love. The last conversation we had was him bitching about traffic and me bitching about doing the dishes.

What? No, no, no… I just talked to him. He was fine. We were going to go to dinner. I was doing dishes. I was trying to wrap my head around it and as I stood there and looked at the deputies. I realized, too, that my sons were looking at me. Both of them got it before I did; both of them understood the impact before I did. Boys come here.

I held my arms open so my twin sons could curl into me like they did when they were toddlers. What was I going to do? How was I going to make them men without him? Almost as quickly as the devastation came the overwhelming fear. What was I going to do and how was I going to survive?

Ma'am, is there anyone we can call for you?

Oh shit; what about my mother-in-law? Who was going to tell that overbearing, pompous woman that her baby was gone? Gone…he was gone. I was never going to see him in the morning all mussed and smiling at me. I was never going to get tackled from behind while doing yoga, something he thought was hilarious. I was never going to hear him laugh that deep baritone laugh.

I shake my head. I had to call her, since she would be angry if it were anyone else. No, no, that is okay. I want to see him. What if they are wrong,? What if it isn't my Marc? My Marc, the man that was my sunrise and sunset he was my everything.

No mom, don't do that. Even at twelve, Peter was a solid person. Still, I had to. I had to be sure. I had to know. I wanted to be able to tell his mother with certainty.

I have to. I will call Brittany to sit with you. I couldn't think or make sense of what was happening. I need help, I need Britt.

Standing and throwing his shoulders back, J. said, No. We will go too. Won't we, Peter?

Joseph got me. He always understood what I needed. I didn't want them to see me or Marc this way though. I need to be stronger; I need them to know I won't break. They are children that have just lost their father. There is no way in hell I will have them taking care of me.

Deputy, I am sorry I didn't get your name, but can you please take us? I didn't get his name and I didn't really care.

Laurence, ma'am. He gestured to the older man.

And I am Deputy McDell.

Stop calling me ma'am. It's grating on my nerves. I took a deep breath. Just please take us to the hospital.

Oh, no. I felt myself sliding and slipping into what my husband always lovingly called my inner bitch mode. The boys…I had to remember what mattered here. Marc and the boys. Focus, focus, focus. It became a mantra in my mind. That and the names of people I was going to have to call.

I have no idea how but I know we are going to have to get through this. I do not know what happens next but I am going to have to survive. It hurts to breathe and I don't know if I will ever be able to fill my lungs again.

Chapter 1

Beth

Beth, you have to get out of this damned house. Britt would not let up; she was like a Chihuahua with a bone. She was tiny, feisty, and brilliant, with long blonde hair that swept her ass when she walked and blue eyes that made you think about ice. Sweetheart, if you don't get laid, you will dry up.

Oh god, bitch. My son is sitting here with us.

She's right, mom. What did he just say? I think my head just exploded. You need to get out and have some fun. Dad wouldn't have wanted you to wait to die. He loved you so much and he wanted everything for you. Go do something for yourself.

Looking at my fifteen-year-old son, I could hardly catch a breath. He looked just like his father and now he sounded like him. I could hear Marc whispering in my ear, You're beautiful. You deserve everything; go get it. I felt the tissue being pushed into my hand as I realized I was crying, again. "No, no more tears. I can't do this and you're pushing too hard. I pointed my finger at my son. Now and forever, my sex life is off the table as a discussion topic. Got it?" I gritted my teeth and pushed into his face. I wanted to him to know that I was serious.

Joseph leaned over the table, slid my wine glass away, and got right in my face. As long as you are unhappy, Dad would want me to help. I will talk about your car, the house, the bills, your clothes, even your underwear, and yes, if necessary, your sex life too until I know that you are happy.

As he sits back in his chair with a smug smile across his face, I realized that he has been managing me for a while.

"Jesus, J., don't you think you should be a child? You know, maybe a fifteen-year-old boy? When are you going to start dating? O. M. G. I put on my best mocking tone. Are you having sex, too? I saw that little Marcy across the street was here the other day. What's up with that?" I was trying my best to steer this conversation so he would leave.

Mom, he said in disgust. P. is sleeping with her. That would be too gross to sleep with my brother's girlfriend. His hand covered his mouth as he tried to physically hold in the words that he couldn't take back.

The wine I was drinking was stuck in my windpipe. I thought I might die. Sputtering and spitting wine back in my glass, I asked, What do you mean? P.? My baby Peter is sleeping with that tramp? Oh, that's good. Now I sound like my mother in law. Even in my own head, I knew that was the wrong approach here.

Yes, mom. Peter has been going with her for months now and she's a nice girl.

How did I not know this?

Joseph drank his soda and shrugged.

You said they are having sex? Are they using condoms? Huh, What, Crap. A litany of words ran through my head.

How would I know? Okay, I can't talk to you about this. Joseph stood to leave.

No, you don't get to drop a bomb like that. You want to talk about my sex life and make a nonchalant comment like my fifteen-year-old baby is having sex, and then walk away? No way, sit your ass down! Another deep breath seemed to be all that I could do. I glanced up at Britt, my best friend for six years…my life support. She was beet-red and had her hand over her mouth as if to stifle a scream; no, laughter. That bitch was trying not to laugh. I will kill her! Wait; I have two boys to kill first.

I shake my head to clear the white noise threatening to take over and ask, Okay, so P. is having sex, are you? I was angry at Marc again. Some days, it felt as if I was always bitter. How dare he leave this to me alone? He was supposed to teach these boys about sex. I was supposed to complain about not having time in the bathroom and dirty sweat socks.

Aw mom, no I'm not. He didn't sit back down. Instead, he took a drink of his soda and started to turn around again.

J. Do you know about condoms? That stupid bitch was actually laughing out loud now. I poured her more wine and with a Shut it bitch, I turned back to my son.

Yes mom. I know all about safe sex. No babies here. He turned to face me. I think he was getting the gravity of the situation now. Before, sex had been something we joked about, but nothing real to discuss.

But you know about diseases too? Eww, I didn't want to do this.

Yes, mom. Always wear a condom so your junk doesn't fall off. I could see him squirm. Wasn't this the kid that wanted to talk about my underwear and lack of sex life? The little shit.

J. don't call it junk. I don't want you to treat it like junk. J., baby, do you know about waiting until you're in love? Sex should matter. It's not something to take lightly or to jump into. What was I saying? Shit was just pouring out of my mouth. J., sex is important and the person you have sex with should be, as well. Innocent girls are going to expect things and the not-so-innocent are going to demand more. What the hell did I just say? The words continued to roll out and not even make sense to me.

Beth, please. Britt put her hand over mine. J., what your mom is trying to say is that she loves you and you are amazing. You should only surround yourself with other people who think you are amazing, as well. The girls will come and go, but your self-respect will be with you forever and based on your actions only. Don't ever force her; if it isn't yours let it go, don't ever let someone force you, and always ask yourself if you will respect yourself tomorrow and five years from now if you sleep with this person.

Tears ran down my eyes. Marc should have been here. In his absence, I should have been able to do this, but I couldn't. I loved my girl. She saved my ass again. I love you, Joseph, but she's right. Sex is about respect. You respect yourself and your partner, the rest will co– No I can't use that word. Follow.

I know, mom, J. said while sitting back down. I want you to start dating. I promise to only have sex with girls I respect. Don't ask me about P. and start dating, please.

I couldn't figure out why he was pleading with me to date, but I knew that Marc would have wanted me to get out and date. We had talked about what the other expected, if they passed. I wanted him to have a nanny/housekeeper that gave him regular blowjobs. He would always roll his eyes and laugh when I would tell him that. He wanted me to wait a few years and remarry. I knew that, but what's ‘a few years?' Tears came again and I felt Britt and J. staring. I knew I was breaking again, but I couldn't stop it. Deep breath, in, out…I could stop it. Wow, look at me. Freaking Wonder Woman!

Taking a big fortifying drink of my wine, I look at my son and say, Okay, I will do it, but how? How, Britt? How do I get out and find something you haven't been able to find in forty years? Yeah, that bitch was still single and raised children vicariously through me. She did a damned good job at it, as well. I have seen her claim my son as her own at his baseball game, but she was rotten at dating. She stayed at home with me and when she did date, it was always someone unavailable or she dug until she found a flaw that she could exploit.

Britt's response was automatic. The Club.

What club? I don't see mom clubbing.

No absolutely not, I retorted over Joseph's words. J., please leave the room. I knew where she was going with this and there was no way in hell that she was teaching my boys about her version of sex. Wait…didn't she just do that? She really should practice what she preaches.

Joseph just sat and stared at me. What? Why? I think you should get an online profile.

Britt chimed in. No, Beth, you are coming to The Club with me tonight.

"J., Leave now. Deep breath, inhale, exhale, I really want just once to not have to think about my breaths. No Britt, I can't do that. It is not for me. J. I said leave. I was polite and asked you nicely, and I've even told you as your mother. I will punish next. Leave now. Joseph got up and walked out of the room mumbling about how fickle I was. He was right, but I was not going to have her teach him about that. Because I knew he would be at the Xbox just around the corner, I quietly added, No, Britt. I can't. It's not me."

Look, Beth. You don't have to do anything. Just because I like extremes, doesn't mean you have to do them. Come with me, have dinner, have a few drinks, and see if you meet someone that catches your eye.

Yes, but Britt, he is going to be into the extremes. I couldn't believe that I was letting her think I would entertain her idea. I don't want someone that's into the extremes, as you call them. I can't do that. I don't know how.

Didn't you ever experiment with Marc?

"Lower your voice. And yes, of course. Fifteen years of marriage requires that you invest in it, but never with another person. Never with more than the slightest amount of pain, nibbles, not bites, slight swats, not whips. I can't do it, Britt." I could feel the panic rising, mostly because I could also feel my panties getting wet.

She leaned over, slid her hand up my neck, and whispered in my ear, Don't you want to feel someone touch you again? Don't you want to know how it feels to be wanted again? Then she kissed my cheek like she has been doing for six years. I felt that hot breath in my lower stomach. My thighs tightened and my knees came together.

Damn, Britt. Do it again. I said on a laugh. I needed to lighten the mood.

I am deadly serious, Beth, she spoke lowly. You need this. I need you to have this. Your tight control is killing me and I need to see you let it go. I love you, Beth, and I want you to have someone. She took a big gulp of her wine and drew in a deep breath. Beth, you know my idea of extreme is slightly different than others. You know I like men, but I also like women. Mostly I like both at the same time.

Yeah. We've talked about it, at length. And it turned me on when we did!

Sweets, I know you touch yourself after we talk. I've heard it while I was on the phone with you.

Britt, stop!

Come on, Beth. I am not going to push you. I am not going to touch you. You are my best friend and I wouldn't jeopardize that for anything. Leaning even closer, she whispered, But I do like the idea that your panties get wet when I talk to you about it. I like that I can turn you on. I can't get you off, but I sure can turn you on. Have you ever been with a woman, Beth?

Deep breath in, deep breath out, knees together, don't fidget. Crap; I was wet just thinking about it. No, Britt, you know that. There was one guy in high school, three in college, and then Marc. Why are you pushing me now?

I am pushing because you are ready Sweets. When I heard you on the phone while I told you what I was doing, I knew you were ready.

You were testing me? I didn't masturbate while I was on the phone with her, but she does tell me some pretty hot stuff and I might have touched myself during her latest tale.

No, I always tell you about my weekends, but I heard you moaning. I guessed you were touching your sweet, little pussy. Tell me, Beth. Did you come? I could feel her wine sweet breath on my cheek as she leaned into me.

Not while we were on the phone. Thank heavens for the wine. The heat from the liquor masked the deep blush from her words. How did we get on this? Well, enough of that.

Britt, I will go out with you once. Once! If anyone pushes, you included, I am taking my toys and going home. I slug down the rest of my liquid courage. This was going to kill me.

Yay, Britt squealed like a little girl.

-

Okay. Hair–check. Makeup–check. Dress on and not spotted–check. Stockings–check. Heels–check. I was as good as I was going to get. The boys' looks when I stepped into the family room exacerbated my butterflies. The wows and holy cows only made me more nervous. Ironically, since their father died, they fight less.

Boys, pause the game. Are you ok with this? I wave my hands in front of myself.

Um, are you asking about the dress? Because it is pretty skimpy, but you look great.

Oh, my Peter is always protecting my feelings. I knew this dress was over the top.