Can't Hardly Breathe. Gena Showalter
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Connors had been a master at manipulation. He’d cajoled and charmed...and then he’d cheated.
Holly had no idea. To this day, she idolized him and blamed Dorothea for the split. And that was the way Dorothea preferred it. The girl distrusted too many men already. Starting with their snake of a dad!
When Joe Mathis divorced their mother to marry his side slice, as Holly liked to say, he’d cut all ties with his daughters. Dorothea had been hurt, but Holly...she’d cried herself to sleep for weeks.
Carol had shut down so completely Dorothea was ultimately forced to step up and act as both mother and father. A role she’d played until the day she moved to the city.
Biggest mistake of my life.
She’d promised to stay in constant contact, but every time she’d visited, every time she’d called, Holly had treated her like, well, this. Insults and rancor had abounded.
Eventually Dorothea stopped coming around, and even stopped calling, unwilling to deal with a new bombardment of vitriol...not realizing until too late that young Holly had interpreted her move as yet another rejection.
Now Dorothea longed to repair their broken relationship without damaging her sister’s perception of Jazz. The two were like siblings. Loving siblings.
Jazz called Dorothea at least once a week to report the things Holly texted him—and also to beg Dorothea to give their marriage another chance.
He missed her worship and adoration, nothing more.
After saying “I do,” he’d somehow—and easily—convinced her to drop out of school, work two jobs and support him until he graduated. That way, he could get a job at a news station and one day become the state’s premier meteorologist. Then Dorothea could return to school. And after she graduated, Jazz would do her a favor and recommend her to his boss.
I’m such a fool. He’d finished school and gotten a job, no problem. But before she could return to school, he’d also gotten his side slice.
“Jazz and I didn’t love each other,” she finally said, whisper-soft. “Love is the difference between success and failure.”
“Love is a myth,” Holly said, her tone as dry as the last two Oklahoma summers. She arched a brow, the silver hoop pierced at the edge glinting in the light. “Sex is what makes or breaks a relationship.”
“Holly!” Dorothea had lost her virginity to Jazz. In freaking college. “You’re too young to be having...you know.” She thought of high school Daniel and his parade of girlfriends. “Teenage boys are fickle. They come and go, and leave heartbreak in their wake.”
Her sister rolled her eyes, eyes the same bright green as Dorothea’s. “You aren’t my mom, and this isn’t a teaching moment. Stop acting as if you care about me.”
“I do care.” She reached out, intending to hug the girl. “I care a lot.”
“Too bad, so sad.” Her sister darted out of range and popped another bubble. “I don’t care about you.”
Dorothea spun so quickly she’d probably experience whiplash in the morning. Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked rapidly, hoping to prevent a spill down her cheeks. She’d been hurt many times in her life. She’d faced rejection after rejection. But this...
“I stopped caring when you decided to act like Dad,” Holly added, her tone flat.
Her sister had scented blood, hadn’t she? Had gotten hold of an emotional knife and intended to twist the blade while it was buried deep inside Dorothea’s heart.
“I know I’ve said this before, but I’m sorry.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “I should have come back to see you more often. I should have called more often. Going radio silent just to prevent another fight was cowardly and—”
“Thanks, but no, thanks. I’m not interested in hearing this again.” Holly popped another bubble. “Your should have is too little, too late.”
Twist. Dorothea decided to change course before she bled out. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”
“Shouldn’t you stay out of my business?” Holly marched out of the room. The door slammed shut behind her.
Twist, twist.
Feeling a hundred years older and a thousand pounds heavier, Dorothea pasted a smile on her face and headed to the lobby to place the Be Back Soon sign on the reception desk. Then she dialed Mrs. Hathaway’s room. The widow took over guest services at odd times in exchange for room and board.
“I’m headed out,” she said. “Can you—”
“Sure, sure. Just got to find my denture cream.”
Dorothea muttered a hasty goodbye as Carol rounded the corner, her bag rolling behind her. A dark bob framed her ageless features, and a bright green dress flattered her larger figure. If Dorothea wore that dress, she’d look like a watermelon. While she’d inherited her mother’s not-quite-delicate bone structure, her shorter height did her no favors.
I think you’re perfect just the way you are.
For a moment, she fought the urge to run into her mother’s arms and sob. Carol loved her and always found a way to comfort her on the worst days of her life.
“I’m single and ready to mingle!” Carol’s sunny smile only brightened when she met Dorothea’s gaze. “Life is good.”
This woman...oh, this woman. She was so wonderful, kind, loving—and utterly clueless. Purposely clueless. When the going got tough, Carol got going, retreating to her room or even out of town to check out mentally, leaving Dorothea to deal with everything on her own.
“Mom, did you know Holly ditched class this morning? Worse, I caught her sm—”
“Let me stop you there. She didn’t ditch. I gave her permission to stay home. Everyone deserves a break now and then.” Carol patted her shoulder. “Are you ready to go? I don’t want to miss the welcome reception.”
Translation: I don’t want to deal with sibling rivalry.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
During the entire hour-and-a-half drive to the city, Carol chatted about nothing important. Only when they reached the luxurious hotel did she change her tune, leaning over to kiss Dorothea’s cheek. “Do something fun while I’m gone. Something spontaneous and maybe even wild. Okay?”
Dorothea flinched. “I’ll try.”
“Don’t try. Do.”
The entire drive home, she remained thoughtful. Fun, spontaneous and wild. Three words no one had ever used to describe her. In fact, her friend Ryanne had referred to her as Doro Downer since her return, and Lyndie had teased her about being a fuddy-duddy. They’d invited her to multiple girls’ nights, shopping sprees and spa days, but she’d always said no. Holly and the inn came first.
And look where that mind-set had gotten her. Hated, broke and miserable.
Maybe her mother was right. Maybe it was time for a change—time to be fun, spontaneous and wild. To put herself first. For once!
No, not maybe. Definitely.
But I don’t wanna be fun, spontaneous or wild, part of her cried. With change came risk. With risk came failure. With failure came hurt.
Or...with risk came success. With success came joy. She could use a little joy in her life.
She wasn’t feeling particularly brave or strong, but dang it, what did she have to lose?
To achieve a different result, you had to do something different. She desperately craved a better life. No, not just better, but the complete opposite of what she had. Therefore she had to do something different.
Maybe...maybe it was time to go against her instincts and