Breathe Again

Formatted by
E.M. Tippetts Book Designs

The Breathe Series

Reading order:

Just Breathe
(Book #1)

Breathless
(Book #1.5)

Breathe Again
(Book #2)

Dedicated to those who never thought they deserved a second chance…. it’s what you do with your second chance that counts.

When your past meets your present

and your present threatens your future,

remember to

Tate

I
T HAD
been two fucking months.

Two long, tortuous, mind-numbing months since I’d left New York to return to the loneliness and solitude Los Angeles now offered. Two months since Savannah Rae had asked me to leave.

For two months I moved through life with no concern, no reason, no expectation, no anything. Sleep, eat, and work was all I did. It had become my routine, my livelihood, my ultimate distraction. That was my life now, the life I had been given because of a vindictive bitch named Chelsea. The life I was now living without Savannah.

Tanzi had tried to get me out of my rut, Jack had been taking me surfing more than usual and Mom had even hand delivered red velvet cupcakes to me, but despite their best efforts, there was nothing that was able to shift my mood. Like an impending storm rumbling over the Hollywood hills, my mood darkened with every new day that passed. The intensity of this whole situation was frustrating the shit out of me and I constantly asked myself what the hell I could do about it.

The ever growing pit of unanswered questions was taking over every inch of my existence, and the slowly twisting knot in my stomach from walking around not knowing whether I still had a girlfriend was expanding by the second.

This shit had to stop. Right. Fucking. Now.

I, Tate Connors, never ever did this. I didn’t sit on the beach contemplating life with my surfboard beside me and sand wedged in places it shouldn’t be, and I sure as shit didn’t pine over or allow my life to come to a half for a fucking girl.

But the girl in question wasn’t just any girl. She was
my
girl.

The stubborn as fuck, sexy as sin, and sweet as candy Savannah Rae.

My girl.

“You thinking about Sav again?” Jack’s amused voice rumbled beside me.

A growl escaped my dry throat as I shot him a
don’t fuck with me
look. Observant fucker he was.

“She is the only fucking thing I think about Jack.”

It wasn’t a hidden fact that I loved Savannah with every part of my being. Every time my eyes landed on her, I drank her in like it was the last drop of water my desperate mouth could find in an abandon desert. But now, as I was on a forced Savannah hiatus, I was craving her like a junkie craved every last bit of smack they could summon. I needed my hit, but no matter the intense life-alternating, mind-shattering effects of the drug, there would always come that time when the junkie questioned their addiction. That time when they were locked in the solitude of their turbulent mind, battling the fears, insecurities, highs, and lows brought on by their drug-induced haze. The moment when they questioned whether the addiction was really worth it all.

For me, my moment of clarity happened barely an hour ago after I’d paddled out behind the waves to Jack’s and my secret surf spot in San Diego. As the ocean calmed around me, my brain rumbled like a freight train. The peace of the ocean made everything shimmer and gleam as painful reality swept through me. As heart breaking as it was and as much as it felt like my heart was ripping out of my chest, I was slowly coming to the realization that I couldn’t wait for her to make up her mind. I was either worth it or I wasn’t. What else could I possibly do to prove to her that I was hers and hers alone? How could I possibly get her to believe in me when it was clear she didn’t believe in us?

In the middle of the serenity of the Pacific Ocean, I made the decision that would make or break us. I would give this, us—Tate and Savannah—one last fight, one last earth-defying attempt to shake it into her that we were forever. I’d fight for her. I’d fight the fucked-up situation we found ourselves, and I’d fight for the life that I deserved, that we deserved, that Jellybean deserved.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“What can I do, Jack? She made her decision. We have barely said two words to each other since I left. The only thing we talk about is Jellybean, and I am fucked if I can go on living like this. I fucking love her. I know that, you know that, Tanzi knows that. Hell, she knows that, but what can I do?”

“Go to her? Tell her exactly what you are telling me. You have walked around with the world on your shoulders for the past two months. I love you, man, but you have been fucking hell to live with. You can fix this.”

Of course I could fix this, but I was becoming tired. There was only so much my heart could bear, and as I sat on my favorite beach as the world turned around me, I made the life-changing decision.

Our future was in her court now. She held the future of Sav and Tate in her beautiful hands and the choice was hers. One simple word would change everything. Yes or no. Did she want us or didn’t she? An answer that I would be gaining so soon.

The face I had been dreaming about, the body I craved, and the heart I wanted to save was coming back to Los Angeles in two weeks and she had no clue I knew.

Savannah

Two weeks later

T
ATE HAD
been right. My one-month stay in New York turned into a three-and-a-half-month stint. My time in New York would have been incredible if I wasn’t fighting the constant battle of emotions over whether I missed or despised Tate. My thoughts were turbulent to say the least. One moment I was crying for what I had potentially lost and the next I was furious at what I had seen and the independent woman roared within me. Most days were bearable because I threw myself into work, starting before the sun rose and finishing long after the sun set, taking on new projects and attending after-hour functions—anything to keep my mind active and away from the reality I faced. But once work finished, I was back with the solitude of New York, the isolation from the world that I had so carefully built around myself, the world that offered a comfort I had been craving since I was ten years old. It was those lonely late nights that were the hardest. The time just before I would drift off to a restless sleep. Those few minutes before sleep engulfed me when my mind was filled with nothing but Tate.

I couldn’t deny that our time together in New York had been anything but perfect. Having Tate with me, sharing my pregnancy together, having copious amounts of amazing sex, and having him within arm’s reach was what every girl wanted. But perfection never seemed to stay in the life of Savannah Rae for long, and it had soon been shattered to a million sharp and violently jagged pieces when Hurricane Bitch-Face-of-the-Century Chelsea decided to tear through our lives, destroying and upturning everything in her path.

What a fucked-up situation I now found myself in. Just thinking of her made my blood boil. A hatred simmered inside me, a hatred I had never felt for another person before. As if life were trying to twist the knife currently wedged in my heart just a little more, my mind ran through the events of that fateful day time and time again. It crept into my thoughts when I was wide awake and haunted me when I was fast asleep. The image of her and Tate having sex felt like it was tattooed on my eyes, engrained in my memories to forever torment me and remind me that she had him first.