Every Breath After: Part 1 (Lost Boys, #3)

by Jessie Walker

My vision tilts, blurring, a roar filling my ears as the words before me distort, taking new shape, new meaning… Beloved son. Beloved brother. Beloved friend.

Try as I might these last forty-eight hours, I can’t get it out of my head—what Jeremy said, the way he said it… Like he was so damn certain that that reality would’ve been easier on us.

“Would you hate me?” I find myself saying. “S’okay if you do. I kinda hate me too.”

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, logic tries to point out the futility of what ifs, insisting nothing good comes from this line of thinking. And it would be right… But it’s also too late. Relieved. I’m relieved it wasn’t Jeremy.

Why I called Jeremy Montgomery of all fucking people… I don’t know. I don’t even remember making the decision to do it. I just… Wanted him. Needed him. To make me understand. To make this go away. Something.

Dropping my hands, I stare at the boy I’ve known practically all my life, and I wonder how I could’ve been so selfish, so stupid.

“Are you seriously gonna tell me you haven’t thought the same?”

“That you didn’t wish it was me instead?” His voice trembles, but grows stronger, louder as he continues, “That you didn’t think it⁠—”

One second, we’re standing here, with three steps separating us. And the next, I’m all in his space, and his face is clutched in my hands.

Wide, startled eyes stare back at me, and I’m vaguely aware of his arms falling at his sides, the bottle slipping from his grip. “What⁠—” I yank his face to me⁠— “Shut up. Just. Shut. Up.” —and crush my mouth to his, smothering his gasp. He tenses. I tense. And everything just…stops. Time ceases.

“Mason?” he says, staring into me with so much confusion, so much fear, so much… Want. So, so much want. And I just⁠— I can’t. I can’t stop this.

Like two stars thrown on a collision course, racing at warp speed across the galaxy, we crash into each other in a white-hot explosion that rattles the universe. Shaking me to my core.

The heels of my palms dig into his jaw, guiding him where I want him as I devour his mouth like a man possessed. Licking and sucking at lips I didn’t know how badly I craved until this very moment. How I went so long without this… I’ll never know.

I’m spinning and spinning… Falling and falling…

He’s hard for me. And before I can help myself, I rub up against it, realizing… Oh fuck, I’m hard too.

He kissed me. Mason Wyatt fucking kissed me. He kissed me. And I kissed him back. Me…Mason…kissing…

How will I ever move on if he keeps me chained here? How will I ever have a chance of feeling whole again, if I’m forever torn between hope and acceptance? Can I even be whole again?

“Please don’t fucking leave me, Iz.” I flinch back. My body reacting before I even have time to process what he said. The pain is so sharp and unexpected—brutal and unforgiving—that I actually glance down between us to make sure there’s not the hilt of a knife sticking out of my chest.

With each step that takes me away from the scene in the bedroom, I feel less and less a part of my body. And I keep having to swallow and blink like if I don’t, I’ll just…fade away. Disappear within myself. So cold… I’m so cold.

My lips tingle, and pain shoots through my chest. “Stupid, so stupid…” “Shut up.”

Hope. It’s a vicious fucking thing. Like love—like death—all it does is take and take and take.

The heart in my chest, thumping, thumping, racing…slowing… “Please don’t fucking leave me, Iz.” …Cracking. Right down the fucking middle. A fatal hit if there ever was one. There’s no coming back from this.

No coming back from finally, stupidly thinking maybe—just fucking maybe—there was a chance. That I was an option for Mason.

that icy numbness I’ve been clinging to for years, the one that would settle over me when I needed it most, like my very own shield… It shatters, wholly and completely, leaving me exposed down to the bone.

In this moment, I realize I’ve never hated Mason more. For prolonging this. For making me hang onto hope for years. For lying to him so much, and for so long, that I actually started to believe it. That she was out there. I fucking hate him.

For one sharp, swift beat that will forever be a black spot on my shattered heart… I don’t wish it was me who got taken instead of Izzy. I wish it was him.

I can’t do this. I can’t survive this. Without her, I’ve been half a person. And now without him too, I’ll be lucky if there’s even a sliver of me left.

See me, please see me Find me, and show me the way out This maze has no left side The stars are hidden from me Jeremy, please forgive me I can’t do this without you

“Are you exhausted of me? Because I am.”

“Just a line from a poem I like. ‘Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.’ Basically means that, no matter how hard we try to maintain control and order, chaos will inevitably get its turn. There is no one without the other. Things break and start anew and break again. It’s inevitable.”

“A ritual. Before bed. To…visualize it. It was like… if I could prepare enough to lose the people I love, it won’t hurt as much when it actually does happen. Or, I don’t know, maybe if I imagined it hard enough, I’d somehow jinx it—prevent it from ever happening at all.”

“Two things can be true at once, Mason. But something will always come along and tip the scales eventually.” A meaningful pause settles over the room, and then she drops her final question on me like a bomb. “What tipped yours?”

I wished he was mine. All mine, and only mine. For years. On shooting stars. On birthday candles. Then one day, my wish was granted. And I’ve been wishing every second since, on every breath, that I could take it back.

“Whether he knows it or not, that’s exactly what I’ve become.” I meet her tightened, reddened gaze. “The Mason I knew and loved died with her. I see that now.”

I was a casualty. I’ve been a casualty. A scapegoat. An excuse. A crutch. Nothing more.

You’re just a casualty. He doesn’t actually see you. I’m just the closest thing he’s got to her.

It was her, and then it was him, and⁠— A rushing sound fills my ears. The edges of my vision blur. My fault…all my fault. What did I do, what the fuck did I do? I love her, I love her, I love her.

And then I’m taking a step forward, then another one, and I’m backing Jeremy against the building. His warm amber eyes are impossibly wide, and he’s shaking his head. “What are you doing?” I plant my hands against the gritty brick siding, right next to his head, boxing him in, and I bow my forehead to his, sucking in a sharp, unsteady breath at the same time his hitches.

“Are you sure it wasn’t real?” I whisper, my breaths coasting along his face. There’s a distant sort of scratching sound, and a glance down shows him digging his nails into the brick. His eyes fall shut, and the tip of a tongue pokes out, dampening the plush pink flesh of his lips. “It c-can’t be.” I frown, rocking my forehead against his. “Then why…why am I sober right now, and I still want this?” My voice cracks, betraying me. “Why?”

“Jeremy,” I whisper. He blinks rapidly. “I…” “Jeremy.” Pinching his chin, I tip his head back. He gulps—loudly—just as I swoop down, dancing my lips off his in a featherlight kiss. A thing of nerves really. A small whimper crawls out from the back of his throat, and I feel my lip tilt with a smile.

“You called me by her name!”

“It’s always about her. Even when she’s dead, it’s all about her. Always has been, always will be with you,”

“A tragic love story for the ages. I’m so fucking sick of being in the middle of it. I didn’t ask for this!”

“Sometimes, I really fucking hate her. You know that?” His voice trembles. “I hate her. And I love her. And I miss her. And I want to grieve her. I want to let her rest, but you won’t let me!”

“I don’t want to feel like I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Do you know what it’s like, realizing the universe fucked up?”

“Do you know what it’s like to know that deep down, it has to have crossed people’s minds, my parents’ minds, yours?” “It should’ve been me.”

Throwing myself back a step, I tip my head back, and glare up at the twinkling night sky. And to God. To the universe. To the stars and angels. To my dad. To Izzy… And to me, most of all. I scream, “Fuck you!”

“Perhaps the answers you seek aren’t in the stars…but in the space between them.”

“I love you.” Time stops. The universe rattling, quivering, set to implode⁠— “And before you tell me you love me too, or misconstrue what I’m saying, I mean…I love you…Mason. I’m in love with you.”