Page 5 of Fallen

“Bob, you can’t have chili. I can’t imagine the amount of bean farts and poops I’d have to clean if you had even the smallest amount.” Bob huffs and turns his back toward me. “He’s probably cursing me out.”

“He’s not happy,” Zaph answers, leaving out the colorful language details. “Can I help you cook?” He stands, limping closer to the stove.

“All I have to do is warm up a few bowls from the freezer. I made it a few weeks ago and don’t know how to make a small batch. I always make enough to feed a small army. There’s a month's supply frozen at the moment.” I nod toward the table. “Please sit and rest.”

He follows directions, moving slowly back to the table. I stare at the man with wings in my kitchen. What is wrong with you, Lucy? A man with wings attached to his back is injured, in your kitchen, claims to be an angel, and you’re trying to feed him.

It doesn’t take long before I have two steaming bowls of chili on the table and the exact number of dog food bites in Bob’s bowl. I don’t miss the glare he gives me when I set his dinner on the floor.

Zaph takes a bite and closes his eyes. “Human food has so much more—flavor.”

I set my spoon down at his words. “Is that a good thing?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly. After finishing, he washes his bowl and places it on the drying rack. He'd be the perfect man if it weren’t for the wings.

“Is there anything I can do to help you heal?” I ask.

Zaph stretches his wings to the side. They move noticeably faster, and the portion that was misshapen earlier seems to be moving more normally. “They’re healing already.”

“Are they always like that?”

“Like what?”

“On…on the outside?”

He smiles, warming my insides. “No. When I’m not injured, I can pull them in.”

I stare at the angel in front of me. “Will your memories of how you got here return as quickly as your wings are healing?”

“Hopefully,” he answers, turning back toward the table.

“How many of you are there?”

“Many.” I have a feeling I’m going to receive vague answers to my questions.

“Do they all look like you?”

“No. Just as humans are different, so are we. We’re each as individual as you.” He sits back at the table, slightly out of breath for the activity.

Outside, the sun is lowering past the horizon, casting an eerie glow on the snow below. Zaph stands, moving toward the backdoor. “I’ll sleep in the shed tonight. I wouldn’t want your purity questioned.”

I can’t control the laughter that explodes from my body. “You’re joking, right? You’re more than welcome to sleep on the couch. And, by the way. The purity train left the station while I was still in high school.”

Zaph stares at me, unsure what to say. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be any trouble?”

“Are you always this formal?” I prop my hands on my hips.

“Forgive me. It’s been a while since I’ve been around humans. It seems many things have changed.”

I wave my hand toward him. “I doubt human behavior has changed. Most likely humans aren’t staying as silent as before.” I turn, heading upstairs. “I’ll grab you a pillow and blanket.”

I return moments later, finding Bob curled up beside the sleeping angel on my couch. Both of them are breathing deeply and sound asleep. Trying not to wake either of them, I cover Zaph and place the pillow close enough that he’ll find it if he wakes up.

After the insanity of the day, I’m not the least bit sleepy. Heading to my laptop, I continue working on the chapter I started two months ago. Ironically titled, “Fallen Angels.”

Using Zaph as inspiration, I’m able to write more than I have in a year. A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s well past midnight, and my eyes are beginning to cross with exhaustion. I close my laptop and move the stairs when every light in the cottage goes off at once. “Shit,” I whisper. It’s not unusual to lose power in Vermont. Especially when you’re in the middle of nowhere, and there’s been an ice storm.

I turn back to find the oil lamp I keep on the countertop and run directly into a bare chest and rock-hard abs. “Zaph?”

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