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

stranger, goodbye.
    “So now you have dirt on me, too,” she said. “Secrets that would hurt me if they became general knowledge.”
    “I would have been your friend without the hoops, Briar.” Surprise rippled through me at just how much I meant those words.
    “But now when I promise I won’t say anything to those ‘bloodsuckers’ about your relationship with your mom, you know I’m serious. I gave you the leverage to hurt me back.”
    Did she really think so little of me? I suppose I brought that on myself. My comments before weren’t nice. “I have a certain core decency, and I refuse to be considered that much of an arse.” I winced at how formal and clipped my words were. Like a runaway train, I’d lost control of my mouth. Fucking fabulous.
    “You aren’t an ass at all.” She patted my shoulder as she rose from the bench. She arched her back, stretching her arms above her head. The sun caught the strip of exposed skin at her lower back, bathing it in a pinkish glaze. I shifted in my seat, shocked by how much that thin strip of exposed skin turned me on.
    “Let’s get you back to your car.”
    She didn’t say to visit my mum. Just as well. I wasn’t sure I could go back in today.

Chapter 8
    B riar

    W e drove in silence back to the hospice center, me hyperaware of Hayden. I tried to ignore my growing attraction. I wanted to be angry with him—he’d been a dick to me. I frowned. Problem was, his response came from confusion and hurt.
    I wasn’t a doormat and had no intention of starting to be one now. Except . . . his soul-deep sadness called to me. I recognized the emotion, lived it in my own life.
    Didn’t hurt that his tall gorgeousness was enhanced by his sun-streaked caramel locks and those brown eyes. When the faint afternoon sun cleared a cloud, the light highlighted the golden stubble glinting from his cheeks and chin. He appeared so self-assured, strong, until I met his eyes. Then, he reminded me of my niece, Abbi, right after her father was diagnosed with Huntington’s. Hayden struggled to understand the unfairness of life, and he wanted to break out of the anxiety that was his new constant.
    I still couldn’t believe I’d told him about Ken. I wasn’t the emotional-sharing type, but sitting in the warm pool of Seattle summer sun loosened my tongue. And eased some of the hurt I’d bottled up inside.
    “Thank you for lunch,” I said as I parked the car and turned off the engine.
    “Now I can claim to have eaten from the best food truck in America.”
    “Saw one of the signs, huh? Consider yourself properly indoctrinated to the food truck craze. It’s big here in the Northwest.”
    “You were right; we have ’em in Sydney. Different, obviously, than here.” He turned his head to face the window. “Depressing place, this building.”
    “Death isn’t happy,” I sighed. “Not for those left behind, anyway. But sometimes it’s a relief for the person leaving.”
    I kept my eyes on the entrance. He ran his fingers through his hair again, making the caramel waves stick out in thick cowlicks. He exited the car, walked around and opened my door.
    He looked at the building with abhorrence. “I’ll go in and see my mum.”
    I gripped his forearm, trying to ignore how good his skin felt under my palm. “You don’t have to.”
    “Yeah, I kinda do. That’s why I’m here. To hear her deathbed confessions and forgive her transgressions or some other utter tripe.”
    As he opened the second set of doors, his hand rode the small of my back. I fought down the urge to shiver. Much as I tried to deny it, I’d always been a sucker for the emo loner. Way more than the buttoned-up suits. Those guys—men like Ken—were supposed to be safe. Unwilling to push too far into feelings and my untapped desires. But even power suits and cuff links didn’t stop my secret yearning for a man who needed love the way I did.
    In high school, I’d mooned for hours in my bedroom over the brooding