Ten Tiny Breaths by K.A. Tucker

Author:K.A. Tucker [Tucker, K.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, love, loss, new adult, tragedy
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Stage Five ~ Dependence

Chapter Nine

I’m at the mall at nine a.m. on Tuesday morning to buy two cell phones. One for Livie and one for me. They’re nothing fancy but I can text easily and that’s all I care about after lying wide-eyed in bed all night, contemplating Trent.

At noon, as I’m heading out of my apartment door with my gym gear, I bump into him. With a grin, I decide that I really do love living next door to him. I really do.

“How’d you sleep?” He asks, stepping just inside my personal space. I note that I don’t mind a bit. In fact I thrive on Trent Emerson being in my personal space.

“Like someone slipped Rohypnol into my drink,” I lie, giving him my full-tooth smile. “I’m on my way to the gym. You interested?”

Blue irises take in my black tank top shamelessly. “I could burn some energy.”

My heart skips three beats. “Then go get your things,” I say and bite my tongue before I offer him a better way to burn energy.

With a smile, he leans in to kiss my cheek. “Give me two minutes.”

I wait in the commons area, no doubt with a stupid grin on my face, while Trent runs into his apartment. When he comes out, he’s in track pants and a fitted white t-shirt. I may not be able to see his tattoo, but I can see every ridge of his sculpted chest and flat abdomen. How the hell am I going to get through my rounds with that to look at?

“I’ll drive?” he offers with a smile, as if he can read my mind.

I can only muster a nod.

***

“You need a hand with the bag?” Trent offers.

“This way, Jeeves.” I stroll over to a free spot and toss my stuff to the wall behind it. I begin to stretch my body, feeling each muscle expand and loosen. I always marvel at how far I’ve come every time I’m about to work out. It took me so long to even move my foot after the accident. At one point, my muscles had deteriorated to nothing, and I was sure I’d never walk again. At the time, I didn’t really care.

Trent mimics my stretches, his arms lifting over his head, one arm bent and pulling against the other to stretch his triceps. His shirt rises, exposing the contours of his abdomen and the dark trail of hair running down below his navel.

“Holy fuck,” I mutter under my breath, turning around to finish my stretching in blissful ignorance of the god behind me.

“Okay. Ready?” I hear Trent call out. He swings his arms back and forth, clapping as they come in front of him. “Let’s show ’em what we’ve got!”

“Do you have any idea how to hold a kick bag?”

“Of course,” He leans against it, his arms circling the entire circumference.

I don’t think Trent’s ever held a kick bag. “I said ‘hold’ not ‘hump.’ You want your ribs cracked?”

His arms drop and he moves away from the bag, gesturing at it.

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