Breathe With Me (Playing For Keeps #5)

by Becka Mack

She shakes her head, eyes squeezed closed like she regrets the words. “Sorry. Never mind. That was … I don’t know why I said that. I know you have to … that you have to go. I’m just …” She shakes her head again, and I don’t know what kills me more: the fact that she won’t look at me or that she won’t talk to me. “Never mind.” “No, not never mind. Talk to me, Care. What’s going on in your head right now?” She laughs, the exhaustion in it so palpable it scrapes down my chest. “What’s not going on in my head right now? It never stops anymore, just one string of thoughts after another, falling down a hole of worst-case scenarios, until I’m stuck down a fucking well without a ladder, drowning.” She swallows, fiddling with the strings of my hoodie. “Sorry. That was … a lot.” “Don’t ever apologize for telling me how you’re feeling. It’s what we’re supposed to do, confide in each other. You’re safe to do that here.” Sitting up straight, I take a breath, her words rolling around in my head. The embryo transfer is first thing tomorrow morning. It’s our first, and I’m not there with her. She’s nervous, and she’s all alone. Or she feels like it, at least. I watch her pick at the blanket, avoiding my gaze. “Care. Look at me, baby. Talk to me. I’m here.”