Page 26 of Breakaway

“So,” Raiden starts, my attention drawn to him as he leans against the wall, his dark brown eyes full of excitement. “Want to beat the ever-loving shit out of this stuff with me?”

“I’m so confused right now,” I mumble, my shoulders sagging as Raiden approaches me.

“You’re stressed to hell and back, Andi,” he states knowingly, his hand rising to cut me off when it’s clear I’m going to make a feeble attempt at protesting. “I know you’re fine, and even if you aren’t, you will be. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been going nonstop for weeks now, not to mention the years you spent inside that compound, filled with anxiety and constantly on high alert. I wish I could snap my fingers and make your worries disappear, but that’s not a power I possess. I can give you this, though. A place to vent and expel every ounce of anger and frustration you’re still holding on to. I know it’s not a permanent fix, but something tells me you’ll feel a fuckton lighter when it’s all said and done.”

I gape at him, my heart thumping wildly as I process the weight of his words. Given Raiden’s job description, it makes sense that he’d be as observant as he is, but something about his astuteness makes my breath catch. I’m no stranger to having my every move scrutinized, but there’s a vast difference in the way I’ve been dissected and picked apart by Veritas and the attentiveness that Raiden has shown me.

“Well?” The deep timber of his voice rips me from my wayward thoughts, my cheeks heating when I realize I’ve been staring at him for far too long.

“I could definitely break some stuff,” I respond with a nod, doing my best to shake off the warmth I feel from how touching I find his concern. I can’t allow myself to feel anything for him–or the others–aside from friendship. I’d be stupid not to recognize the attraction between us, this inexplicable pull I have to be in his presence as often as possible. But it’s not just Raiden that I’m being drawn to, and therein lies the problem.

“Atta girl.” Raiden beams at me as he grabs two protective suits from the wall. Thankfully, they seem to be a one-size-fits-all situation, so the drab coveralls don’t cling to my body. The last thing I need right now is to have my noticeable baby bump put on display. “Don’t forget these,” Raiden adds, handing me a pair of goggles. With all of our safety gear in place, we look absolutely ridiculous, but the grin that splits his face draws one from me as well.

“Now what?” I question, slowly spinning to survey the room.

“Now…” Raiden starts, his gaze landing on a stack of outdated dinner plates. “We let loose and purge all the bullshit that’s weighing us down.” Before I have a chance to respond, he hurls one of the dishes at the back wall, the sound of it shattering making me jump. For a brief moment, fear renders me immobile, my muscles straining as I wait for the other shoe to drop. Tobias would have punished me ten times over if I broke something, and that ingrained trauma response isn’t something I can simply turn off. I’ll be lucky if it ever goes away. My reaction only lasts a fraction of a second, but Raiden senses the shift almost instantly.

“Andi,” he voices with a quiet firmness, his hand resting against my overheated cheek. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing that was true, but Tobias still affects every aspect of my life, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. Whether I’ve accepted it or not, I’m carrying a permanent reminder of him and his cruelty. He’s taken my control away, forcing me into a situation I wasn’t ready or prepared for, and certainly not with him. Never with him. And now, every negative thought and emotion I cycle through makes me feel just as monstrous as he is. It isn’t fair, but life seldom is. Determined to stay in the moment, I shake off the dark direction my mind was steering me towards and focus my attention on Raiden. The patient look in his eyes makes the back of my own burn, so like the coward I am, I take a plate from the stack and purposely ignore the tightening of my chest. Facing the wall, I take a deep breath and give the dish a sad toss.

“That…” Raiden trails off, his nose scrunching as he palms the back of his neck. “That was embarrassing.” He gives me a shy smile, then grabs another one. “Come on, you can do better than that, Andi.”

I roll my eyes but take the offered piece of ceramic, my gaze falling to the chips and blemishes that mar the surface. I run my finger across them, wondering if that’s why they ended up here in the first place. If their previous owner decided they were defective because of a few imperfections, despite them still being functional. I never thought I’d find similarities between myself and an old plate, but here we are. I might be mostly whole, but the parts that were chiseled away over the years leave me feeling damaged beyond repair some days. And what do people do with the things they deem ruined? They discard them.

Without further ado, I rear back and sling the plate with all my might. It shatters on impact, the broken pieces falling amongst the rest of the rubble. Once the ringing in my ears subsides, I jerk at the sound of Raiden’s clapping and cheering, as if I’ve done something worthy of being praised. In reality, I feel sick to my stomach after destroying it, but I chalk my reaction up to hormones. They’re twisting my emotions and making me far more sentimental than I’d typically be.

“Time for the heavy stuff,” Raiden says, snagging a baseball bat from the bin by the door. “I don’t know about you, but I could definitely let loose some of this built-up anger.” He takes a couple practice swings, then slams the wooden bat into a microwave. “Hell yeah!” Raiden whoops, his wide, boyish smile dragging a laugh out of me. “Your turn.” He spins the bat and holds it out for me to take, sighing when several seconds pass and it remains suspended. “You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?” He smirks, gently placing the piece of wood in my hand, then steers me towards another appliance awaiting its inevitable destruction.

“This right here.” Raiden points to a mini fridge. “Picture Tobias. Think of all the times you were desperate to get a lick in, but you refrained from fighting back because you’re smart and self-preservation took priority. Now imagine this shitty little refrigerator is that sad excuse of a man–a fitting comparison, if I do say so–and give him hell, sweetheart.” His grin is feral, the energy he’s exuding wrapping around me and giving me the confidence I need to act on every dark thought that’s ever crossed my mind where Tobias Stillwater is concerned.

My first swing is timid, the bat barely making contact. But then my mind conjures up all the repulsive bullshit he’s said to me over the years, the games he played and the lies I so easily fell for. Like something from a horror film, memories of him using my body–however and whenever–surge forward, bringing with them a fresh wave of fury. My grip tightens, and I slam the bat against the fridge, over and over, my thoughts blanking of everything but the overwhelming need I feel to make Tobias hurt as much as he hurt me. I want the biting sting of betrayal to rip the breath from his lungs the way it was taken from mine. For his heart to be shredded to pieces, but I doubt that’s possible since I’m convinced he doesn’t have one. I have no idea how long it’s been, but when I finally stop, my hands are stinging and hot tears are streaking down my cheeks.

Raiden steps in front of me and slowly pulls the bat from the death grip I have it in, then tosses it aside. He frames my face with his hands, using his thumbs to swipe away the wetness pooled beneath my eyes, but he doesn’t seem to mind that his effort is in vain. The tears keep coming, refusing to be held back any longer. I drop my forehead to his chest, my fingers gripping the sides of his coveralls so tightly my knuckles turn white.

“You’re so fucking strong, Andi. I know you don’t see yourself that way, but I’m going to remind you every chance I get, until you no longer question how goddamn phenomenal you are. Crying isn’t a sign of weakness, minha luz. It’s release in the purest form. There’s strength in ridding yourself of all those pent-up emotions, and I promise I’ll always be here if you need a safe, judgment-free space to let go.” My heavy sigh is cleansing, as if the weight I’m shouldering is minutely lighter. I take a few more seconds to bask in Raiden’s closeness before forcing myself to step away. He smells entirely too good to be in such close proximity to, especially when I’m not in complete control of my body these days.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my throat constricting from how grateful I am to have him in my life.

“Anything for you, Andi.” He winks, spinning on his heel in the next breath, so at least my heated cheeks aren’t being broadcast. I follow a few steps behind, unzipping my suit so I can place it back on its rightful hook. As soon as I’m undressed, I hastily pull my sweatshirt into place, ensuring there’s no visible sign of the secret I’m hiding. Raiden eyes my odd behavior curiously, but doesn’t comment on it. Everything I have is so ill-fitting, and I have a sneaking suspicion that Raiden thinks I constantly tug at my clothes because I’m uncomfortable wearing something that isn’t the modest sheath that Veritas forced me into, but that’s so off-point it’s comical. I’d prance around the streets in a string bikini if it weren’t for my current predicament, just as big fuck you to my so-called husband.

“Ready?” Raiden asks, propping the door open. I nod, but just as I step into the hallway, the strangest sensation I’ve ever felt stops me in my tracks. I’ve noticed some flutters before, but nothing as distinctive as this. I have to fight to keep my hand from touching my stomach, my fingers itching to track the movement and confirm what I’m feeling. “Everything okay?” Raiden peers down at me, his forehead pinched with concern.

For the briefest moment, I contemplate blurting out everything I’ve held so close to my chest for the past six weeks. I’d love to share the burden with someone else, but more than that, for the first time, a tiny spark of happiness just burst through the heavy cloud of despair I’ve grown so used to feeling when it comes to this pregnancy. I want to relish in that with someone, to hear them tell me it’s okay to feel something aside from bitterness and dread. Instead, I press my lips together and keep my thoughts to myself.

“Yeah, sorry,” I respond with a forced laugh. “Just spaced out for a second.” Raiden’s eyes narrow the slightest bit, as if he wants to question me, but he ultimately accepts my shoddy excuse with a dip of his chin. Exhaling in relief, I keep step with him as he leads us outside and opens the passenger door of his truck. I give him a grateful smile and climb inside, my limbs sluggish from the past hour of wielding a baseball bat and then having a full-fledged breakdown. My eyes are heavy when we reach the apartment, but Raiden insists on walking me to the door.

“Make sure you charge your phone,” he gripes, dropping a kiss to my forehead. Little touches like that have become common with the guys, but they have no idea how much restraint it takes to keep from taking more. I’ve been deprived of affection for so long that it’s hard to know what’s acceptable between friends and what borders on inappropriate. I give him a half-hearted salute, knowing I’ll likely forget about the phone altogether because apparently pregnancy brain is an actual thing, then stumble inside when the door opens unexpectedly.

“For fuck’s sake, dude. Quit picking the damn lock and go the hell home,” Raiden snaps, his frustration boiling over as he glares at the man who clearly doesn't understand the severity of breaking and entering. As I’ve come to expect, Briggs ignores the order and simply slams the door in Raiden’s face. His mumbled curses echo through the thick wooden barrier, knowing he’s fighting a pointless battle and any further complaints would only fall on deaf ears. His voice fades with his retreating steps a few seconds later.

“That was rude,” I chastise the man-child who’s taken it upon himself to invade my temporary home whenever he feels like it.

“He’s annoying,” Briggs retorts, his bluntness no longer a shock. “Are you hungry? I made spaghetti.” His swift change in conversation is a regular tactic he uses whenever my attention isn’t focused on him. I’m convinced he’s needier than a newborn baby, and I’ll be able to confirm that theory in a few short months.

“Starving,” I groan, belatedly noticing the faint scent of garlic and tomato. “And we both know this is Raiden’s apartment, so it’d probably be in your best interest not to piss him off any more than you already have. He could easily trespass you,” I tease, a smirk quirking my lips at the annoyed look he gives me.

“Sit. I’ll bring you a bowl,” Briggs instructs, pointing at the couch he’s claimed countless times now as his makeshift bed. “As far as Detective Hardass goes, let’s not give him any ideas.” His bossiness never ceases to amaze me. I tried to kick him out when he first ramped up his uninvited visits, but then he resorted to picking the lock in the middle of the night, so I’ve given up on that endeavor. I can’t decide whether his persistent nature is a part of his charm or if he simply barks out commands and expects people to obey without question, but I generally cave to his wishes so I don’t have to hear him gripe and complain all the time. I kick my shoes off and steal the blanket Briggs has clearly been using, sighing blissfully when I sink between the cushions.