Contents ( 42)
- The Art of Breathing
- Part One: How We Became Who We Are
- Prologue: Or, Where the Kid Hears the Word of the Day
- 1. Where Tyson Learns to Breathe
- 2. Where Tyson Makes a Phone Call
- 3. Where Tyson Graduates and Bear Freaks Out
- 4. Where Tyson Says Good-Bye
- 5. Where Tyson Gets the Mail
- Part Two: Coming Home
- 6. Where Tyson Comes Home
- 7. Where Tyson Gives a History Lesson
- 8. Where Tyson Attends the Most Awkward Party Ever
- 9. Where Tyson Plans Attends a Protest
- 10. Where Tyson Gets Arrested
- 11. Where Tyson Gets His Ass Handed to Him
- 12. Where Tyson Writes Bad Poetry and Gawks at Frat Boys
- 13. Where Tyson Decides to Man the Fuck Up
- 14. Where Tyson Asks Some Questions
- 15. Where Tyson Remembers Theresa Jean Paquinn
- 16. Where Tyson Learns the Benefit of Therapy
- 17. Where Tyson Meets the Man Who Becomes Helena Handbasket
- 18. Where Tyson Gets Screwed at His Own Birthday Party (And Not in a Good Way)
- Part Three: Just Breathe
- 19. Where Tyson Goes to Helena Handbasket’s Sex Dungeon
- 20. Where Tyson Beholds the Awesome Wonder That Is Paul Auster
- 21. Where Tyson Receives Advice from the Six Sages
- 22. Where Tyson Makes a Phone Call
- 23. Where Tyson Hears the Inevitable
- 24. Where Tyson Meets His Match
- 25. Where Tyson Says Hello, Where Tyson Says Good-bye
- 26. Where Tyson Touches upon the Inevitable
- 27. Where Tyson Faces the Music
- 28. Where Tyson Breathes
- 29. Tyson And Dominic
- 30. The Art Of Breathing
- Epilogue: Or, Bear’s Perspective, As It Were (Yeah, He’s Gonna Freak)
- Author’s Note
- Excerpt
- Prologue: Or, Where Bear Answers the Door
- More from TJ Klune
- Readers love the Bear, Otter, and the Kid Chronicles by TJ Klune
- By TJ Klune
“Oh.”
“Or, she said, you fight like hell to get them back.”
“You and her?” My heart breaks for the woman I long considered to be an enemy. I never wanted this, not if it meant others being hurt. Not truly. But something in his voice causes my heart to race, my skin to prickle. And then he speaks again and everything changes.
“No, Ty,” Dominic says. “She was talking about you and me. And you can trust me when I say I’m going to fight like hell. Because no matter where you’ve been or how long it’s taken you to come home, we’ve always been inevitable, and that will never change.”
I can say nothing in return because my voice no longer works.
Sometime later, before he drifts off to sleep, he finds my hand with his and holds it tight.
We drive on.
24. Where Tyson Meets His Match
IT’S A little house in a little neighborhood. Not bad, but by no means the greatest either. There’s a small fence around the front yard. There are flowers and bushes along the house that look as if they could stand to be watered. The lawn needs to be mowed. There’s an old car in the driveway, but it’s missing a tire and is up on a jack. It’s late afternoon, and I can’t tell if anyone is home.
Dom had wanted to come, almost to the point of arguing with me. I told him if he meant what he’d said in the car, he’d let me do this. A little manipulative, sure, but I don’t want him to see her for a very simple reason. He’s never met her. Therefore, he can never be tainted by her. Should this go wrong (and there’s no reason to suggest it won’t—ever the optimist), I don’t want him to see her. She hasn’t gotten to him yet. And if I have anything to say about it, she never will.
He wasn’t happy, of course. He wants to protect the ones he loves.
Loves. Jesus Christ. That’s something I’m still not able to wrap my mind around. Either this has been the best trip in the history of ever or it’s about to go ass up.
Drive away, it whispers. You’ve got what you wanted. At least the foundation of it. Drive away now. Pick up Dom at the shitty motel and drive home. Go back to Seafare and the Green Monstrosity and Bear and Otter and let them worry about things for a little. That’s what they’re there for. Then you can focus on Dom and whatever is supposed to happen. All you have to do is drive away.
It would be so easy. I’d start the car. Put it in drive. And leave. This would all be behind me, and I’d never wonder about it again.
They’re nice, these thoughts. But they’re wrong.
I’d think about it. And I’d dream about her. And I’d always wonder.
But wouldn’t it be better to wonder? If you wonder, you might not know, but at least there would be no more sorrow. There’d be no more hurt.