Hold Me Like a Breath by Tiffany Schmidt Read Free Book Online Page A

Although those walks and places weren’t in this neighborhood.
    Garrett was at my side, one hand not quite touching my elbow, the other clutching the brown bag that was growing grease stains. His eyes were alert and darting but also pointing out things.
    â€œSee that alley? It goes all the way to the next street. That one, the one with the tattoo parlor on the corner? It’s a dead end. Don’t go in that bodega. It’s just a cover for a drug operation. You know how to work the panic button on your phone, right? And how to tell if someone’s following you?”
    â€œOf course. I might not be ‘hot,’ but I’m not helpless. My father taught me some things too.” I saw him wince, his hand involuntarily patting the back of his shirt.
    â€œThis is a bad idea. I don’t agree with Carter. I don’t think dragging you into any of this is smart or safe.”
    I narrowed my eyes. “Too bad it’s not your decision.”
    â€œYeah. Well, I guess it’s too late now anyway. We’re here.”
    I pulled out my phone and added another location flag. Thiswas something big, something important, and I was being included. I felt my eyes go wide with anticipation as he ducked into a dingy doorway. Just a few square feet of dirty gray tile and mangled mailboxes. The inner door was propped open with a container of mints, the same brand my brother had offered us earlier. Garrett picked it up and slid it in his pocket. “Good, Carter’s already here.”
    Passing through the door, we faced another small area. Not even a proper lobby. It smelled of mold and spoiled food. Garrett pointed to a staircase, and we began to climb. Four flights later he knocked on 4B.
    There were sounds of something dragging in the apartment, something slamming.
    Then there were the slides and clicks of locks being turned, and my brother’s face appeared in the doorway. “Hey, come on in.”
    â€œYour clubhouse is an apartment? Since when do you even
like
the city? I thought you were all anti-noise or bustle or whatever it was.”
    â€œYou mean back when you were eleven and every time you didn’t get your way, you threatened to run away here so we’d never see you again? People grow up, Pen. You stopped throwing tantrums, and I changed my mind about the city.”
    Except I still threatened that in my head, all the time. And daydreamed about it through every immunoglobulin infusion. How nice of Carter to go ahead and realize my dream
for
me. “So why are we here? Whose place is this?”
    â€œIt’s
my
apartment,” Carter stated proudly. “I own it.”
    â€œNo way.” I’d watched far too many real estate reality shows to fall for that. “Nice try. You couldn’t even afford a shoe box in New York City. Not unless you’ve dropped out of school and taken up a lucrative career as—”
    â€œWhat would you know about real estate?” The tips of his ears were red, the way they got when he was angry or embarrassed. Or both. “Or money for that matter. You sit behind your computer screen with Daddy’s platinum cards, but when was the last time you even held a dollar bill?”
    Since I couldn’t remember I couldn’t contradict him, so I just glared.
    â€œWho’s hungry?” asked Garrett, stepping between us and rubbing his hands together. That had to be instinct honed in
his
family, because there wasn’t any chance Carter and I would actually come to blows.
    â€œAs I was saying,”—Carter gestured around him—“welcome to my place. It’s completely off-grid. No one but Garrett, and now you, knows about it. No Family bugs. No enforcement waiting in the hall. This is my safe space to do whatever I want.”
    â€œLike what?” I asked. “Like tell me what’s going on? Let’s start with what was making so much noise before you opened the