My Every Breath by Brittney Sahin

Author:Brittney Sahin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: EmKo Media

* * *

“This city is vintage on steroids.” Cade adjusts his shades as we walk through Plaza de Armas. We take in the sights, people, and the architecture.

Stopping in front of one of the book vendors, I pick up a copy of Little Prince and flip through the pages before returning it.

“Gracias.” I nod at the old man who observes me from his stool, probably hoping I’ll buy something. I start to turn away, but Cade’s hand captures my wrist, and I still at his touch.

“I can buy it for you if you’d like,” he says into my ear.

“Do you have pesos on hand?”

“Good point, but he might take dollars.”

“We’re trying to blend in.” Although I doubt Cade or Owen could ever blend in here.

Everywhere we go they stand out, especially Cade. His confidence, and the way he holds his chin up as he walks, his jaw tight—he could probably part the Red Sea with a look.

Cade releases me, and I continue to browse before facing the white marble statue at the center of the square. I’m not sure who it is, but I assume he’s someone important. Being here reminds me of home: the culture, the soft tunes floating in the air around us—the bright buildings that jump from one shade to another as we walk by.

Color.

My art instructor wanted more color in my life.

And here it is.

I just never expected it to be with someone like Cade at my side.

Owen’s behind Cade now, and I didn’t even realize he’d been gone. “I exchanged some bills for pesos. You guys up for a cup of joe?”

I smile at Cade. “See.”

“What? It’s his job to be prepared,” Cade says.

“Come on. This place is supposed to have the best coffee.” Owen points to a building up ahead.

“Well, I could definitely use a good cup. My mother used to make the best coffee.” I was too young to drink it. But I knew based on the aroma it had to be the best tasting in all of Brazil.

Once we have our coffee we sit at a table in front of the café, which is open to the square.

I cross my legs and lean back and close my eyes, allowing the sun to absorb my problems.

“This is good,” Owen says, dragging out the last word.

I open my eyes, and there’s foam on the top of his upper lip from the latte. “You got a little something.” I point to his mouth, and he smiles and wipes it off and licks his finger.

I don’t know Owen that well, but he seems to enjoy life and have fun. It’s hard for me to picture him ever being military. He doesn’t fit the straight-edge image I have of soldiers. Although, back in that war room, he did start to look the part.

Of course, my dad was Irish military. And so . . .

People have layers.

My eyes go to Cade’s lion tattoo, and the sun splays over his arm, making the red ink flare.

He has a lot of layers.

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