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

by Jessie Walker

“I just want a fucking break from all this shit. Just when I think I’m finally free of you—you pull me back in, and without a fucking care in the world. “I’m done being dragged down by you.” He throws a hand out. “I’m done living in this ghost town. And I’m done being a stand in for her,”

“I’m done letting you use me to fill some void.” My eyes fall shut, and I shake my head. No… It’s not true. It’s not. “Hang onto her—hang onto the memories all you want. But I want out. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“It should’ve been me.” I shake my head, his words tumbling around my head. “I told you⁠—” “And you lied!” he shouts over me. Nostrils flaring, chest heaving. “Whether you want to admit it or not.” He won’t believe me. No matter what I say… “You’re supposed to be here, Jeremy,” I whisper instead. “You’re supposed to be here.” A world without him in it… Is no world I want to live in.

“Now, if you care about me at all,” he says in an emotionless voice, “you won’t stop me when I walk away.”

I didn’t mean it. I don’t hate you. Well, sometimes I do. But I hate me more. For not staying outside the hotel with you. And now, for kissing Mason… As good as it felt in the moment to unload on him like that, I just feel empty now. But what else is new?

I didn’t see him again after that. Well, except for when he blew through the diner, before going out back with his mom and Gavin. I made sure to leave before he came back. He hasn’t texted or called since and it’s been 24hrs. I know I should be relieved. Glad he did as I asked. I saw his face… I know what I said hurt him. I wanted to hurt him. Maybe I should regret that, but I don’t. Not completely.

What led him to kiss me again before that… I have no idea. All I can think is he was doing it out of pity. Guilt. To convince us both that he didn’t fuck everything up for nothing. I don’t even want to consider any alternative reasons. Each one just ends with me feeling used. Well, guess I got what I needed. My final nudge. It’s time to move on. For good. After tomorrow night that is… Definitely should not have told Ivy and Will I’d stop by the bar. I’ll just have to leave before the guys finish their set.

Well so much for that. So I was in my first bar brawl tonight. Actually, I guess you could say, in a way, I started it. Threw the first punch and everything. (Not that the asshole didn’t deserve it, because he totally did, and I know you would’ve done the same if you were there.) Did Mason ever tell you about the time he taught me how to throw a punch? We were fourteen. It was the night before we started high school. He snuck out and rode his bike over. Texted me to come outside. I was so confused… I’d never snuck out at that point, not even to just go to the treehouse, which is where he took us. He said he wanted to show me something.

We didn’t turn on the lights because we didn’t want to wake anyone up. So we only had the stars and moon to light our way. It was full that night—a blue moon. That’s what I heard on the radio earlier that day. And I remember looking up and squinting because I actually thought that meant it would turn blue. I swear it had a tint. When Mason asked what I was looking at, and I told him, he laughed. And I remember thinking how much I liked his laugh, just like that, with nothing but crickets and rustling leaves surrounding it. It felt…special.

Anyway, he taught me how to make a fist that night and had me practice hitting his hands. Then he wanted me to hit him in the face, but there was no way I was doing that. Not that I thought I could actually do any damage…but still. He’s such an idiot. When I asked him why he was teaching me this, he said it was so I could fight back if kids started picking on me again, now that I’d be going to public school again.

I think that was the night I really accepted that I was well and truly fucked, you know? It was only a few weeks after that stupid game you made us play, and I still couldn’t get that kiss out of my head. And here he was luring me out of the house while everyone’s sleeping to teach me how to fight so I could protect myself from high school bullies. And his laugh… His laugh that felt all mine, and no one else’s.

Anyway, whole lotta good any of it did, seeing as it only took me seven years to actually put those punching lessons to use. Not to mention, out of all the times I decided to hell with it and fight back, I punched a grown ass man—a drunk one at that—who happened to have a whole ass harem of more drunken grown ass men and⁠— Well you get the picture. It could’ve been reeeeallly bad. Lucky for me, Will and Way stepped in right before I could get the shit beat out of me. And then Mason all but threw me behind the bar, before joining the fray. The bar got trashed. Police were called in. Will got punched and Way’s PTSD was triggered, so… Yeah. I feel like shit about it.

No one blames me. At least not to my face. They assured me of that–Will, Mason, even Shawn. Still…I feel bad. Feel like I made something out of nothing. It’s not like what that asshole said was anything I haven’t heard before. I’ve just been so angry lately. So fed up. With everything. With everyone. With Mason. With myself… Anger is a lot easier to deal with than guilt. I try to imagine what you’d say, if you knew what happened. If you could somehow…respond. Or maybe you’re looking over my shoulder right now, reading everything I type.

I’d like to think you’d understand, given the circumstances and all. That you’d be…forgiving, or better yet, you’d approve of it. Not that that really solves anything, even if you could somehow send me a sign or message. Because at the end of the day, it doesn’t change the fact that Mason’s attraction or whatever for me is a manifestation of his grief over you. I’m just another thing to fill the void left behind, and you could literally pull a Patrick Swayze right now and flick the pen out of my hand to tell me to go for it—that it’s okay—and it still wouldn’t make a difference. I actually just sat here waiting for you to do just that. How pathetic is that?

You have to know you two have always been separate to me. Before she was gone, and after. This codependent thing we’ve got going on… it’s a me thing. Not a her thing

I don’t know who I am without you. And I’m not just saying that cuz of these last four years. I hate myself for jeopardizing our friendship.

But when I really do sit down and imagine what’s going through YOUR head, out there, wherever you are—if you aren’t dead, that is… I realize, no… you’re not waiting to be saved. You’d be saving yourself. You’d be fighting with everything you have to survive.

And she really did :') Our strong girl

Sometimes, especially lately, I wonder if the love I had for you was as intense and deep as it appeared. For years I’ve been shoving these doubts down. Loving you harder and harder, with each day you were gone, until it became this really unhealthy thing.

I never gave all of me to you, despite loving you as much as I was capable of back then. I just wanted to be strong for you. I wanted to be someone worthy of you.

I finally feel ready to confront some things head on. For one, I think I might be bisexual. I’m also pretty sure I’m into your brother.

He seems to be under the impression that I only want him because I can’t have you. That I’ve somehow… transferred my feelings for you, to him, because you’re no longer here.

I care for him not because he’s the closest thing to having you… but because he’s my best friend. He’s always been something more, something undefinable. Fuckkkk

They’d think the same thing he does—everyone would—that he’s just some replacement for you. Second choice.

I love you. I hate that this fucking happened. You should be here. There’s so much you wanted to do, and I hate that that was stolen from you. I hate that you never got a chance to fall in love with someone who wasn’t me, someone who gave their all to you. Someone who’d love you without a single doubt. You deserved that.

I’m gonna let you go now, Iz. I have to. Please understand. Please be at peace.

P.S. Did you know about Will and Way????

LMAOOOOO Mason why are you so obsessed with them (same)

A single text message from Waylon: garage 911

</3

Seeing me hurts him… I’m hurting him… And still, I say, “You’re here.”

He wraps me up in his lean arms, and something in me just…shatters. All I can do is slump against him, bury my face in his neck, and inhale deeply for what feels like the first time in hours. No… Months.

“Do you need to hold your breath?” he whispers thickly, knowingly. Shaking my head, I hold him tight to me. No, no I don’t. Not now. Just let me breathe you.

But the ones you used to talk to and make wishes to? No, they’re not dead.”

My fucking heart

Jeremy came on the radio today while I was driving I don’t care what actually inspired that song I don’t care about the underlying meaning and metaphors as far as I’m concerned, it’s your song it’s you fighting back it’s you coming out on top

Once upon a time, I was only twelve minutes and thirteen seconds older than my sister. Now, I’m twenty-two. She’s still seventeen. Five whole fucking years separate us.

</3

Waylon’s hands are cradling Will’s face as they kiss, right there in the middle of a cemetery where anyone can see, smack dab in front of his homophobic, abusive asshole of a dad’s headstone. A big middle finger to the asshole if there ever was one.

Today’s not just to celebrate Izzy’s and my birthdays, together, for the first time in years in the only way we can now… But it’s to say goodbye. To her. To him.

“I’ve got him, Iz,” Mason chokes out. “I’ve got him.” Waylon wraps an arm around me from my other side, and says strongly, “We’ve got him.”

This made me cry already in the second book but now I am sobbing

“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.”

Jeremy Montgomery, the boy I’ve known since I was six, my anchor through all these years, the boy I once made my mission to protect and keep happy…isn’t confessing that he’s in love with me. Me…

Hi, Oblivious. Meet Denial.

Me, the least deserving fucker out there to be loved by him…

“I’m only telling you because…” He lifts his shoulders. “Because I can’t carry it in me anymore. I’m tired, Mase.” His voice cracks on my name. “I’m tired, and I’m in love with you, and I know it’s wrong—so fucking wrong—but I meant what I said in that text months ago—I’m terrified of losing you.

“It hurts. It hurts so fucking much, loving you, and knowing I can never have you.”

I can only move forward—from Izzy—heal…if I let you go too. Set you free.”

“I don’t wanna lose you forever, but I don’t know how to keep you right now. In any capacity. I can’t just be friends. Not anymore, not after⁠—” “I kissed you,” I whisper,

“If given the choice, you’d choose her. And I know that’s not fair to you. But it’s true. We both know it’s true deep down.” Is it though?

“If it doesn’t work out, we lose our friendship.” He makes a face at that, gaze unreadable. “When…it doesn’t work out, you mean.”

“I wouldn’t…That’s not… Fuck, I’d never use you as some kind of…stand-in for her.” He can’t seriously think that… “Never,” I vow fiercely. And yet by his expression, it’s exactly what he thinks.

He really can’t see it. He won’t let himself. He’s…protecting himself. From me.

“I told you. You’re Mason Wyatt. Of course, I fell in love with you.”

He says it so simply—so effortlessly, despite the tears shining in his eyes, and the quiver in his lips. Like falling in love with me wasn’t just an accident, but an inevitability. Like my mere existence is all it took for him to fall.

It’s not just Izzy haunting every inch of this place anymore, Mase. Or even the bad memories from when I was a kid. It’s…it’s you. Us.