While I Breathe: The Veiðimenn Mob, Book One

Three

Ambrosia sat in her room reading while she listened for the sound of her father’s car in the driveway. He was late getting back from work again, which meant there would likely be a fight later. She was sure that he was out cheating on the woman she was forced to call her step-mother. Well, not forced, but she was told to try to get along with the woman.

Her thoughts turned to the blond guy across the hall. He only moved in a few weeks ago, but they seemed to have found common ground in their dislike of her father and Cindy. She had no idea why he’d caught her attention, but she was glad he took her words seriously. So far, he only ventured out of the bedroom to eat, bathe, and ride his motorcycle unless they were alone in the house.

Her door creaked open to reveal the wicked b***h from hell, who raked her with a sneer before scoffing at the teen. "It was nice of you to show him around, but don't get attached. He's trouble, just like every other kid in the system.”

Ambrosia ran a hand through her auburn waves and shook her head. Did she want to piss Cindy off? Eh, what the hell. “You're wrong, Cindy. Most kids end up in the system for things beyond their control. Not that you pay attention to anything past that big, fat check the government sends you every month. I mean, oh, no! Wherever would we be without that extra two grand?”

She’d let her mouth open and watched as her sanity ran away with her sarcastic attitude. She knew what would happen as her father’s quiet steps sounded off the walls of the stairwell. Her step-mother, however, didn’t seem to notice as her hand shot out, landing a solid hit on the teen girls face. “You little slut! I'll bet you want to go in there and screw him, don’t you? Just like your w***e of a mother.”

“At least she knows how to cook," Ambrosia returned angrily. She didn’t bother with the stinging sensation on her cheek. She was too pissed off to really care.

He father stuck his head into the door. His face fell as he took note the mark left from the slap. His gaze darkened, “Cindy, what have I told you about my daughter?”

“She was mouthing off to me,” the woman explained.

His hands fisted at his sides. “I don’t give a good God damn what she said to you or how she said it, my daughter is not to be f*****g touched, understand?”

She watched as Cindy paled. He had warned the woman that his daughter would be priority over her when Ambrosia first came to stay with them. She knew that Cindy would be punished later for hitting her, but did the teen care?

No.

Her father and Cindy went down to the kitchen, but not before telling Amber that supper would be served soon. Cindy probably bought more of those ready-made meals from the local superstore again to pass off as her own. Either that or she bought food from one of the local take-outs.

Waiting until they left her alone, she walked over to Callum's door and knocked on the frame. Having hardly seen him in the last two weeks, she was curious to know if he still had the sense of humour he walked in with. Asking if he was still alive, she heard his muffled laughter before a bang came from inside the room. He was still cursing when he opened the door, and Ambrosia found herself biting back a laugh. “What happened?”

He rubbed at his forehead, "I got up too fast, and smacked my noggin off the headboard shelf."

Ambrosia's laughter bubbled out of her, "I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, but that’s hilarious."

Narrowing his eyes on her, Callum noted the handprint that stood out on the girl’s pale, freckle-dusted face. He jerked his chin, tilting his head to the side to get a better look. “What happened? Did the step-b***h from hell lose her s**t or something?”

“Yeah, something like that,” she replied. Her voice dropped an octave as she spoke, and he could hear the subtle hint of pain she hid beneath her calm. Her green eyes went wide when his hand darted up to gently caress her cheek.

He was pissed, and it showed in his eyes. “I got to say something.”

“No, don’t,” Ambrosia started at him imploringly. She knew deep down what would happen if he mentioned anything or spoke on her behalf. She knew her father would take the slight and run with it as a reason to “give the boy what he deserves”, as she’d already heard him say. “Listen, Callum, please don’t say anything. Don’t give him another reason to hate you.”

“Fine, I won’t,” Callum growled in frustration. “Look, can you at least promise me you won’t let her hit you again. I don't like seeing such a pretty face marred like this.”

Was he being real, or was he messing around? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She tried to push him away as he dragged her into the room and shut the door, pressing her body against the wall. Her voice cracked as he hugged her close. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as she stiffened, unsure if he was going to try anything with her. “Callum, I...”

“Breathe,” he commanded softly. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He pulled back, looking into her eyes with understanding instead of ridicule.

He recalled when he was a boy, and heard a sweet angel’s voice singing to him when he was upset. It was the only memory of his mother that he really held onto. Her voice was etched into his memory, and he refused to let it go.

In truth, he missed his family. He missed his Godfather stealing him away to play in his Amma Nadia’s gardens, where he got to hear all about his father’s adventures as a child. He could remember the man telling him to be the gentleman’s gentleman, but he didn’t know what that meant. Now he understood that it meant he had to know when to walk and when to stay and fight.

Steeling his nerve, he guided her to the bed and held her close. He hated seeing girls cry, but she needed it. “Let it out, Amber. It's okay; I got you."

She let the tears fall as she clung to him. It was funny that all it took was one person who understood her to completely shatter her defences. A few minutes later, she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. She relaxed against him, enjoying the warmth of his embrace and the sound of his heart thumping in her ear. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually the crying type.”

He laughed, “Yeah, I had that figured out already. Hey, don’t fall asleep on me.”

Glaring at him for a few minutes, she scowled as she asked, “Why did you do that?”

“Well, because I can relate. Don't ask me why. I won't answer you,” he said as his thumbs brushed the tears from her face.

She wanted to be angry at him. Instead, she sighed, “I was coming to let you know that supper was ready then you did this.”

“Did what?” he asked. Releasing her, he moved to the dresser and pulled out a clean shirt. Glancing over his shoulder at her, he realized that her pale face had red streaks on each side. As he watched her watching him, her cheeks were tinted pink when she caught sight of his toned physique. “Some cold water should do the trick.”

“What?” She questioned in surprise, her green eyes snapping to his face.

He sighed, breathing a laugh. “If you wash your face with cold water, it will hide the fact that you were crying. Again, don’t ask how I know – I won’t answer.”

She blinked, “Um… Thanks, I guess.”

As the door shut behind her, he cursed. He wasn't sure if she could be trusted or not, but he hoped that he stood a chance with her at his back. He wanted to have at least one reliable person in his life that he could trust. Sighing, he opened the door, coming face-to-face with his foster mother as she walked down the hall. He glared at her retreating back as she sauntered over the stairs.

His temper bubbled to the surface as he recalled what the woman had done to Ambrosia. Too late to hide his sneer, his eyes caught the glint of the lights reflecting off the compact in her hand. She turned to him, an evil smirk twisted her features. Her cockiness make him want to give her a not-so-gentle shove over the flight of stairs. “I don't like your attitude, so stay in your room and starve. Be ready for school in the morning, too. Breakfast is at seven, so if you’re late, you go without. Don’t expect me to pack you a lunch or anything, either.”

He snarled angrily at her as he moved back into the room, somehow resisting the powerful urge to slam the door. He had forgotten they started school in the morning. As he laid back down on the bed, he pulled his MP3 player out of the nightstand and turned it on. Turning it up until it was loud enough for his liking, he sighed as one of his favourite songs started playing.