Breathe

| chapter three

LOGAN BRADFORD | CHAPTER THREE

My body was slouched on the sofa; remote loosely in my hand, and some television show was faintly playing. But, I wasn't really listening. It's only been a month or two since Haven's death, but I couldn't push myself to do anything. Without her, everything felt pointless.

"Logan," my dad called from the front door. If it were months prior to the death, I would have jumped with glee. My dad didn't come home early very often, his legal firm took too much of his time. This was one of those rare days; but I couldn't really push myself to be excited about.

"In here," I called, letting him know I was in the living room.

Once he sauntered into the room, his smile slightly dropped. He was in a light black suit with black dress shoes to match. Short, dark hair was nicely brushed to the side. His aura screamed that he was a businessman and that he knew what he was doing. Though, I could tell he was saddened that I was still moping over my best friend.

Walking closer to me, his foot kicked at a small Ben & Jerry's ice cream bucket that I was feasting on. He scrunched his eyebrows, lifting the small container. Behind him was my mother, who I hadn't noticed before. She wore a grey pantsuit, and her hair was styled in her regular tight bun.

While my dad held so many emotions behind his smile, my mother constantly held a stern scowl.

"Logan," she finally said, "this isn't healthy." What was this? Did they come home early to have some type of family intervention?

"Your mother is right," my dad agreed, taking a seat next to me. He slowly removed the remote from my grasp, grabbing me by my waist. I was pulled into his arms for an embrace. My body was limp against his.

Honestly, I preferred for my dad to speak. When he spoke, his words held sincerity and empathy. He spoke as if he were feeling what I was feeling, and it made me feel like everything was okay. He was built off of emotions and compassion.

In contrast to that, my mother spoke with facts. She didn't care much for emotion or sincerity; she just said whatever needed to be said, without thinking how it will affect the recipient. In that case, the recipient was me. There wasn't much of a relationship between us two because with the walls she had around her; it was too much for me to bear.

I didn't understand why my parents were married.

I snuggled further into his chest. "It's been a month and you are still crying over Haven. She is gone, I know, but you need to let this go." Her words were the lemon on a fresh wound. The sharp feeling was stabbing at my chest as she continued. "I cannot imagine how you are feeling, but you have to let her go—you need some help."

"I don't need help," firmly, I stated. My voice was light, on the verge of cracking, but it was firm nonetheless.

"You have been moping for weeks," she stated, "You need professional help, Logan." It was funny how after a couple of weeks of moping, she thought I needed professional help. Maybe I just needed the love and comfort of my family?

My dad's arms squeezed my waist. "What your mom is suggesting is that, maybe, you can consider going to a therapist."

Therapy? Did they really think that I was that terrible? My best friend ended her life, for reasons unknown, and I was being treated like a broken toy that needed to be fixed. I couldn't believe it.

"This is not a suggestion," she corrected, "We have set up an appointment for you on Tuesday, which you will be going to."

Unraveling myself from my dad's suffocating embrace, I knew I needed to get away from the two of them before I had panic attack or something. They were asphyxiating me with their therapy plans. I didn't want therapy; scratch that, I didn't need therapy. I just needed more time.

"Piss off," I directed towards my mother.

+

The rest of the day I spent ignoring my parents and being confined in the comfort of my room. It was boring, but it was better than facing my parents.

I just couldn't comprehend why they would suggest therapy; they didn't even consider talking to me about how I felt with Haven's death hovering over my head. They were so, so clueless.

Maybe my dad was just looking out for me, but my mother was a different story. She was probably doing this for her own sake. Wouldn't want the most prestigious lawyers in town to have a bad reputation because they couldn't even handle their own daughter.

Today was Saturday and I had three days until I would be forced into therapy. I didn't need it. I really didn't.

The violent buzz of my phone tugged me out of my thoughts. Fumbling for the source of vibration, I clutched it into my hands. It was my phone; I was getting a call from Jace.

"Hello," putting the phone on speaker, I greeted my exotic best friend.

"Lo, it's been awhile," I faintly smiled at the nickname that he and Haven had come up with. It was sad that I would never hear her say it again.

"It has," I agreed.

"How've you been, chica?"

"I've been better," he lightly sighed, probably thinking I couldn't overhear it. But I did. "Ah, fuck it—my parents are trying to send me to therapy."

"They're what? Why?"

"They think I'm going crazy," I let out an exasperated sigh, and fell back onto my pillows. There was a pounding sensation prodding through my head just thinking about therapy.

"You're not going, are you?"

"Apparently, I have no choice," I felt like the best option I had right now was that my bed would swallow me whole. Maybe, then, I wouldn't have to deal with problems like this.

I heard shuffling from the speakers, indicating he was moving around. "Fuck, I'm sorry, my mom just came in and told me I had to help her plan for Joshua's party—you're still coming, right?"

Joshua was Jace's older brother, who was coming down from college in Florida. He had two weeks off from school, and he was planning to spend them with his family. He resembled his brother in so many ways. They both had shaggy brown hair, though Joshua's was noticeably lighter. Last I checked, they were both the same height, but that may have changed.

The one thing that they didn't have in common was their eyes. Jace inherited brown eyes from his dad; however, Josh received striking blue eyes from his mom.

As much as I wanted to reject, I knew it would be refreshing to see the two boys I practically grew up with. "Of course, I wouldn't miss it."

"Thanks, Lo," I could tell he was beaming from the other line that I hadn't said no, which made me smile. "Catch'ya later!"

With that said, he ended the call and I was left to my own devices.

[authors note] :: idk what to say about this chapter, its lame but now you know a little more about haven's parents and jace. the next chapter is pretty rad though, it's where the real plot comes in. dedication to hiderinplainsight bc you left such a sweet comment on the last chapter, thank you so much.

p.s. almost to 500 reads, eeep.