Breathe You - C.R. Jane Page 0,63

to get you something to eat?” I ask her, but like with all my questions, she doesn’t answer. Just keeps staring into the oblivion.

I wipe my face with my hand, not knowing how I can help her, heal her pain. It’s slowly ripping my sanity to shreds.

“I haven’t seen you eat anything all day, Val. You have to keep up your strength.”

Still nothing.

“I’ll get you something to drink at least. Some of that chamomile tea you like so much,” I insist, but this time, I don’t expect a reply. Instead, I look at Carter, who is leaning against the rail in front of her.

“Watch over her,” I order.

“I always do,” he replies, his arms crossed against his chest, eyes locked on the girl who means everything to us.

I go back into the full house, and instantly, I realize why Val prefers to stay outside. Everyone is either sobbing or telling stories about her old man, reminiscing about better days, when he was still with us. Much like his daughter, Eric Rossi was a force of nature. He crept into the heart of so many people, with his gentle, kind eyes and good-natured humor.

He didn’t deserve this.

Val didn’t deserve this.

But then again, we rarely get what we deserve.

My ominous thoughts plague me as I walk into the kitchen to find Quaid putting dishes into the washing machine.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m cleaning. She shouldn’t have to clean up after all these people,” he replies with anger in his tone.

I put the kettle on while Quaid starts scraping food into the garbage disposal with such force, he’s probably going to end up breaking a plate or two before he’s done. When I hear a glass shatter in his hands, I let out a long unsurprised exhale.

“You okay?” I ask, walking towards him to see how big the cut is.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, washing away the blood, his body suddenly trembling.

“Quaid?” I hush out behind him.

When he turns around, his eyes are bloodshot red, silent tears streaming down his face.

Shit.

He’s hurting.

“I loved him, you know?” he chokes out.

“Yeah, I know. We all did.”

He shakes his head, pulling at his hair.

“He was the only actual father figure I could count on. Every time he called me son, I felt like I belonged to a real fucking family. And now he’s gone. He’s gone, Logan, and he won’t ever come back!” he sobs, placing his head on my shoulder.

I rake my fingers through his hair, my heart pinching tightly at my best friend’s own suffering.

“If you have to break, break, Quaid. Let it all out, brother. But don’t let her see your pain. She’s in enough of it to last a lifetime.”

He nods, his head still on me as he cries his fill.

I looked up to Valentina’s father. I wanted his approval and respect. I wanted him to know that I was worthy of his daughter.

But Quaid?

Quaid just loved him like a son loves a father.

The pain he’s feeling might not be the same as Val’s, but it sure comes pretty close.

Not having lost either of my parents, I can only imagine what both are feeling right now. The only one of us who has felt this sort of suffering is Carter, and the loss of his parents broke something in him that no amount of time has ever been able to fix.

When the kettle starts whistling, I don’t move an inch towards it. Not until Quaid stops shaking. I place both my hands on his broad shoulders, shoulders that have hit and plundered his adversaries on the field, but today, look brittle and frail.

“Have you eaten?”

He shakes his head.

“Well try. You’re too big for me to carry you if you faint.”

To that, he lets out a stiff chuckle, and it warms my heart, even if it’s worlds apart from Quaid’s usual genuine laugh.

“How is she?” he asks while I turn to the stove to finally turn off the kettle.

“Not good. I don’t think she’ll be okay for a long time.”

Quaid bows his head, and I look down at his bleeding hand.

I let out a sigh while I get a dishcloth to put some pressure on the wound.

“Stay here while I go get something to disinfect that cut before it gets infected.”

I leave the kitchen and look outside just to see how Val is doing. She’s still looking out into the abyss, but Carter is now sitting next to her, his hand in hers.

If there is anyone who knows about death,