Page 12 of Tainted Wings of Failure

"I'm not keeping this a secret; I'm telling you as much as I can right now. As soon as I can, I'll tell you everything."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

With a quick twist of my wrist, the button and fly of my pants come loose and I push them down before climbing into bed beside her. She scoots closer and offers me the box of chocolates.

"Do you want some?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's all yours," I say and wrap my arm around her shoulders.

Chapter 7

Evelyn

I'm sitting on the sofa of our back porch, a cozy blanket draped over my legs, basking in the comforting warm light of the morning sun tickling my skin while sipping my first steaming cup of coffee after my daily morning run. My eyes are fixed on Noah as he goes about his morning routine of tending to the doves.

Three couples just hatched their eggs, and while he was thrilled by the late nesting, considering it’s already October, the excitement over the little squabs seems to have already worn off. Which surprises me, considering how disappointed he was in the spring and summer when the doves seemed to have trouble adjusting to their new environment and failed to lay fertilized eggs.

I hate to make assumptions, but since he refuses to properly communicate with me about how he is feeling and what is going on in his head, I can only speculate what is bothering him. The one suspicion that keeps popping into my head is that he's having a hard time adjusting. And I have this terrible gut feeling that it is getting worse, when for a while it felt like it was getting better and he was finally breaking out of his slump. Perhaps it's just my imagination, like Kyle said, but it seems like it's gotten so much worse again since his surprise visit.

I perk up at the sound of heavy footsteps climbing the wooden stairs, my head turning to find him walking toward me before dropping onto the sofa next to me. "Everything okay with the birds?" I ask with a smile.

"Yeah, I think so," he says as he sinks into the pillows, drapes his arms over the backrest, and tilts his head back before closing his eyes. I lean into his side, his arm slipping from the backrest around my shoulders while I pull the blanket up and cover his legs as well.

"Are you okay, babe? You look exhausted," I ask, resting my hand on his thigh, feeling the tension in his muscles as they flex against my fingers. With a gentle squeeze, I begin to massage him in circles, trying to relieve some of the tension.

"I had trouble sleeping last night, that's all," he says, keeping his head tilted back.

"You've been having trouble sleeping a lot lately. Is there something bothering you?" I give his thigh another squeeze, prompting his leg to twitch under my touch.

He sighs and tilts his head to lean against mine. "Maybe."

"Is there any way I can help?"

"No." He shakes his head. "That's something I have to figure out for myself."

"Okay," I say with a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips and pull away from him. I raise my hand to comb through his soft hair, pushing the loose strands out of his face. This is good, it's not ideal, but it's progress. It's more of an answer than any of the other responses I've gotten from him in the last few days, and we're slowly approaching the subject, step by step; he will open up eventually.

Even after almost a year of being together, it must be challenging for him to openly communicate how he feels and what's on his mind, so I try to be patient. Besides me, he only has Kyle, and the two of them aren't really the affectionate type of friends. Although Kyle seems to know a lot more than he'll admit, I don't see them having many conversations about their feelings. From the bits and pieces Noah told me, I know that Kyle has been with him since middle school, but it wasn't enough information to figure out what Noah went through in his childhood that made him the man he is today. He is so adamant about keeping this part of his life locked away that I can only imagine how traumatizing it was. And every time I try to ask Kyle about it, he shuts me down and tells me that it is Noah's job to tell me and that he is not going to spill his secrets.

I run my nails over his scalp and smile as he relaxes into the touch, the tension in his shoulders melting away as they slump. Leaning closer, I pepper a series of soft kisses on his cheek. "How about I cook your favorite meal tonight?"

"That would be great, you haven't cooked it in a while." He opens his eyes and turns to face me.

"Yeah, because every time I make it, you refuse to eat anything else for days." I chuckle and flick him on the forehead with my middle finger.

Pushing the blanket off myself, I get up, take his hand in mine, and pull him forward, but he remains seated.

"Come on, you promised to help me clean the house, you have to earn your food," I say with another chuckle to which he responds with a groan and shifts all his weight into my hands holding his. I trip over my own feet and stumble forward as he slumps back into the sofa. "Noah!" A grin spreads across his face as I call his name.

Letting go of his hands, I straighten my posture and cross my arms over my chest. The only chore he truly hates is cleaning, but he was the one who wanted a big house, so he has to help with it, especially when he wants me to cook his favorite food.

The moment we got to work, the day passed like a blur. But now, for preparing dinner, I banned him from the kitchen, not only to make the meal a surprise, but also to keep him from stealing the meatballs right out of the pot. Instead, he sits on the sofa, reading one of his many books. A smile spreads across my face at the sight of him in a matching set of black sweats, his damp hair messy from the shower, wearing his glasses.

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