Chapter 13: Breathing Room
1058 Words
The morning after Vince took the job, Tony woke up to the sound of sirens wailing somewhere far off.
It was a familiar sound — part of the city’s twisted lullaby.
But today, it hit differently.
Today, it sounded almost like a warning.
Ava was still sleeping beside him, curled into a tight ball under the threadbare blanket they shared.
Her hair was a messy halo around her face, one hand resting lightly against his chest.
Tony watched her for a long moment.
She looked younger in sleep.
Softer.
Like the city hadn’t had a chance to get its claws into her yet.
A part of him — the selfish part — wanted to freeze this moment.
Trap it in amber.
Pretend that outside, Fairview wasn’t still waiting to tear them apart.
But Tony knew better.
Good things didn’t last here.
Not without a fight.
Carefully, he slipped out of bed, tugging on a wrinkled t-shirt and jeans.
He needed to check in with Vince.
He needed to know that the plan was moving forward.
He needed… something.
Some assurance that he wasn’t dragging Ava deeper into a grave he couldn’t climb out of.
The floorboards creaked under his weight as he crossed the tiny studio apartment.
He paused at the door, glancing back once more.
Ava shifted in her sleep but didn’t wake.
Tony stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him with a soft click.
**
Fairview’s streets were already buzzing by the time Tony hit the sidewalk.
Vendors shouted over each other, trying to sell knockoff watches and bootlegged DVDs.
Teenagers smoked on stoops, daring the world to care.
Old men played chess on cracked plastic tables, moving their pieces like generals in a war only they could see.
The air smelled like car exhaust, cheap fried food, and something faintly metallic.
Tony tucked his hands into his jacket pockets and headed toward the south end of the city.
Toward answers.
Toward danger.
Maybe both.
**
Vince’s place looked worse in daylight.
If that was even possible.
The brownstone sagged like a drunk against a lamppost, windows boarded up haphazardly with sheets of plywood spray-painted with graffiti.
Tony banged on the door, ignoring the curious looks from a woman pushing a stroller across the street.
He wasn’t here to make friends.
He was here to survive.
After a long minute, the door swung open, revealing Vince — shirtless, bleary-eyed, and holding a bottle of beer like a security blanket.
"Christ, kid, you ever hear of a phone?" Vince grumbled.
"You’d answer it?"
"Touché," Vince muttered, stepping aside.
Tony followed him inside, the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke hitting him like a wall.
He waved a hand in front of his face.
"You ever hear of Febreze?"
Vince snorted.
"Smells like success in here, kid. Or failure. Depends on your mood."
Tony dropped into a battered recliner, running a hand through his hair.
"Tell me you got good news."
Vince flopped onto the couch opposite him, swinging his legs up like a king surveying his kingdom of trash.
"I got news. You decide if it’s good."
Tony tensed.
"Spill."
Vince took a long pull from his beer before speaking.
"I passed the info to a guy Carter’s real scared of. Real old-school type.
Word on the street is Carter’s sweating bullets.
If he’s smart, he’ll back off."
"And if he’s not?"
Vince grinned, showing yellowed teeth.
"Then he’s a dead man walking. Either by your hand, or someone else’s."
Tony sat back, exhaling slowly.
It wasn’t perfect.
Hell, it was barely a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.
But it was something.
A chance.
And in Fairview, sometimes that was the best you could ask for.
**
On his way back to the apartment, Tony stopped by a corner store.
Picked up a six-pack of cheap beer, a carton of Chinese takeout, and a bouquet of half-wilted flowers that looked like they’d seen better days.
He didn’t know what possessed him.
Maybe guilt.
Maybe hope.
Maybe just a desperate need to hold onto something good for as long as he could.
When he walked through the door, Ava was sitting on the bed, knees pulled up to her chest, staring blankly at the floor.
She looked up when he entered, eyes guarded.
Tony held up the flowers sheepishly.
"For you," he said, feeling like an i***t.
Ava blinked.
Then, slowly — so slowly he thought maybe he imagined it — she smiled.
It wasn’t a big smile.
Barely a curve of her lips.
But it was real.
She stood, crossing the room in three quick steps, and took the flowers from him, cradling them like they were something precious.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Tony set the takeout and beer on the counter.
"I figured we could use a night off. You know. Pretend we’re normal."
Ava laughed — a real laugh, light and bright and a little bit broken.
"Normal’s overrated."
"Tell me about it," Tony muttered, cracking open a beer.
They ate straight out of the cartons, sitting on the floor with their backs against the bed.
They didn’t talk about Carter.
Or Vince.
Or the fact that tomorrow, everything could come crashing down around them.
They just… existed.
Together.
For one night, they let themselves believe in something better.
And when Ava kissed him — slow and tentative at first, then hungry and aching — Tony let himself believe it too.
Maybe survival wasn’t just about staying alive.
Maybe it was about finding something — someone — worth surviving for.
**
Later, when they lay tangled together on the bed, Tony traced lazy patterns along Ava’s spine with his fingertips.
"Tell me something true," she murmured against his chest.
Tony thought for a long moment.
Then he said, voice barely above a whisper, "I’m scared."
Ava lifted her head, meeting his gaze.
"Me too," she said.
And somehow, that made it better.
Because fear shared was fear halved.
Because loneliness didn’t stand a chance when you had someone willing to face the darkness with you.
Tony kissed her forehead, holding her tighter.
Outside, the city kept breathing — loud, messy, relentless.
But inside that tiny apartment, there was peace.
There was hope.
There was breathing room.
For now.
And in Fairview, sometimes "for now" was the best you could ever ask for.
---
- Writer
