Just Remember to Breathe (Thompson Sisters)

out.
    She stopped running, dropping into a walk at my side. She looked serious, so I was blindsided by what she said.
    “I want you to teach me hand-to-hand combat. Self defense.”
    “ What?” I asked, my voice incredulous.
    “I’m serious. I’ve faced two sexual assaults in my year and a half in college. Next time anyone touches me, they’re going to regret it.”
    I shook my head, flabbergasted. “Are you for real?”
    She nodded. “Yeah. And since it looks like I’ll eventually be dating again, well… my history with that isn’t so hot.”
    I winced, feeling a stabbing pain. I turned my eyes away. The thought of her dating someone else, anyone else, made me want to howl.
    “Well, for God’s sake, Dylan, don’t look so upset.”
    I stopped in place, turned to face her. “How can you be so casual about it?”
    She shook her head, her face a mix of anger and disappointment. “I’m casual about exactly nothing, Dylan. But you didn’t give me a choice. You didn’t talk about it with me. You decided to make all the decisions on your own. Well, suck it up. I won’t go through another year of crying in my room over you. I’m done with that.”
    She was right, and I deserved whatever she was throwing at me anyway. But it hurt. It hurt to see her so angry. It hurt to know she was prepared to move on just like that, even if that’s what I kept telling myself I wanted.
    I didn’t know what I wanted.
    “All right,” I said, my mouth once again going into gear before my brain engaged.
    “What?”
    “I said, all right. I’ll teach you what I know.”
    She looked at me speculatively, then nodded once.
    “When?” I asked.
    She looked at me, then said, “I’m busy on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday mornings. That’s when I go running. How about Monday, Wednesday, Friday?”
    That’s when she goes running? Oh, for God’s sake. She was going to drive me insane.
    “You’re nuts,” I said.
    “Look, if you don’t want to teach me, I’ll get somebody else. I’m sure I can get a class or something.”
    I shook my head. “No. I’ll do it. Wednesday morning. Six a.m. Don’t be late.”
    She nodded, her face still dead serious, and said, “I’ll be there.”
    Then she turned and took off running. I watched her go, admiring her audacity, her courage. As I watched her recede down the sidewalk, all I could think was how I’d do anything for her. Anything at all. And I wanted to run after her, and tell her I was wrong, and beg her to take me back. But it was too late for that. Love meant a lot. It meant everything, and it meant nothing.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

    Your brain is the real weapon (Alex)

    “Okay,” Dylan said. “Let’s try that again.”
    I’d asked for these lessons, but I hadn’t bargained for how intense they would be. The first couple days, I’d worked with Dylan alone. But his hand was a mess, and for some of the rougher stuff he’d asked Sherman to come along as well.
    This was our sixth lesson. For almost two weeks, we’d been at a sort of… truce, really. We still saw each other six days a week, three of them running together, three of them working together on this. Plus the time spent together working for Doctor Forrester.
    We barely spoke to each other, except about whatever it was we were actually doing at that time. Businesslike. It was sad beyond belief, and I’m not sure why I was putting myself through this. Except that it allowed me to keep track of him; it allowed me to know that he hadn’t started drinking himself senseless, or skipped town. But it also kept the tension between us alive and well, and that tension was nowhere more at the fore than when he was training me.
    “Look,” he said. “You’re not exactly very big. You’re never going to be able to use pure strength to push an attacker off balance. You’ve got to use speed… and most especially your brain. Your brain is the real weapon.”
    Sherman nodded. “He’s right. You’re still trying to fight using strength. What you’ve got to do is use his strength and weight against him.”
    I nodded, biting my lower lip. “Okay. I’m ready to try again.”
    Dylan came at me, without warning, grabbing me around the neck and waist. For a second, as always, I smelled him, and the sensory memory of us embracing was almost too much to bear. His cast was finally off, for good this time, though his hand hadn’t fully healed. He wore heavy layers of padded clothing that he and Sherman had picked up at a