Page 2 of Tainted Wings of Failure

"He could put it in his office.”

"You can also put it in yours,” she says with an amused look on her face, her eyebrows shooting up.

"No, I agree with you that it doesn’t fit in our home. You did really well decorating the house and making sure the doves fit in, but any other animal would simply be too much.” I sigh and lift my free hand to rub my eyes through my lids, trying to ease the pounding sting behind my eyes. The little bit of excitement and adrenaline from watching the deer die wears off, leaving nothing but the slowly growing, throbbing headache I've been struggling with for weeks. I try, I really try to find the same joy in hunting animals as in hunting humans. But it simply isn’t the same. It simply doesn't satisfy me in the same morbid fashion.

"Are you okay, babe?" Eve asks, and when I open my eyes, I find soft lines creasing her forehead and that worried look in her eyes which has become a regular expression ever since these headaches started.

"Yes, just that headache again. I will take a painkiller and drive the deer to the butcher real quick and tell him to save me the skin.”

"Are you sure? You seemed to be enjoying yourself the last time you did it yourself.” Her lips pucker in a soft pout and I lean down to place a fleeting kiss to her lips.

"Yeah, but I’m not in the right headspace to do it myself.”

Yes, I did enjoy butchering the last deer I shot. It was fun to learn something new, about the anatomy of a deer as well as the different parts of meat and the organs. For a moment, even cutting up the animal felt like I was torturing some poor soul who had messed with the wrong people. But the disappointment and the dissatisfaction afterwards, when the thrill faded, was too much, and I'm not in the mood to torture myself any more than necessary today.

I pull back from her and close the back of the truck before heading towards the driver’s door. Eve's quiet footsteps trail after me, her eyes boring into the back of my head. I grab the blister of painkillers from the cup holder and my bottle of water, swallowing one pill before turning back to her.

"While I'm in town, do we need anything from the store?" I ask and she narrows her eyes at me, her lips press into a thin line. Something is wrong. She always has this look on her face when something is bothering her, but she doesn't know how to bring it up.

"Can you get some cake for dessert tonight? I want some."

"Of course, any particular flavor?"

She shakes her head and wraps her arms around my stomach, propping her chin against my chest as she looks up at me. "You know what flavors I like. Surprise me."

I lean forward to plant another kiss on her nose. "Anything chocolate or strawberry." Her smile grows and she playfully nudges my stomach before letting go of me. "If we need anything else, call me."

Chapter 2

Evelyn

"Noah?” I call his name once again, pushing the door that connects the garage to the house open and flinch, squeezing my eyes shut when the strong smell of formaldehyde hits my nose and the chemical scent burns my lungs. Stepping onto the landing of the garage, I see the reason why he didn’t react the three times I called him before. He stands in front of his desk, headphones on, humming to the music as he meticulously arranges the feathers on the dove he is taxiderming. After coming back home and taking a shower, he excused himself to clean the truck as well as continue working on the bird.

I push the button at the stairs and the door lifts itself, letting a rush of fresh air into the room. His head jerks toward the garage door before turning in my direction as I climb down the steps and walk toward him. A small smile spreads across my face as I notice the pose in which he arranges the dove. It's the one missing in the living room, and then the set on the shelf will be complete.

I place my hand on the small of his back, a few inches above the pistol tucked into the waistband of his suit pants, and caress his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.

He takes his headphones off. "Yes?" he asks, pushing up his glasses with the back of his hand.

"Dinner is ready. I already called for you three times.” I smile and step closer, reaching up to push the damp tangled strands of hair out of his face, revealing his forehead. My smile widens at the sight of his full face. He looks adorable with glasses. It’s been two months since he got the pair after months of him refusing to even look at options, throwing tantrums and sticking to his decision of only using contact lenses. He insisted that glasses would restrict him but when I asked him from what exactly, he didn’t have an answer. I eventually tricked him into going to an optician with me and when he noticed how whipped I was for how he looked with glasses, he couldn’t get them fast enough.

"Okay, I’m going to wash up and will be there in a minute.” He leans down to my level to place a kiss against my lips.

I smile against his lips and raise my hand to his chest, nudging him. "And don't get distracted again."

"I won’t. The other day was just an unlucky mistake,” he says and already turns towards the sink in the garage. I watch his back as he walks away from me, and I can’t help but sigh. It wasn’t just the other day; it has been happening a lot as of lately. It’s like he is completely absent at times, but he swears nothing is wrong. Maybe he is just bored. Ever since we moved away from the city, he has been trying out countless new hobbies, and to no one’s surprise, the only one that seems to stick is hunting. Which I suggested but, in my opinion, also highlights his struggle to adjust to our new life. Although, he would never admit that. But our freezer plus the additional one he had to buy speak a different tale.

Lost in my thoughts, I jump as a large hand lands on the small of my back and a tall frame appears at my side. "Thanks for waiting," he says, gently encouraging me to get back up the stairs.

"Sure." I smile at him and follow his lead, returning to our open living space where the dinner table is set. While I sit down, he heads to the wine cabinet and grabs a bottle and two glasses from the top shelf. I watch him closely as he pulls the cork out of the bottle and pours a glass for each of us, thanking him as he sets it down in front of me before he settles into the chair across from me.

"Thanks for the meal." He nods and picks up his fork and knife and begins to eat as we fall into silence. The clinking of utensils and the occasional creak of the chair are the only sounds that fill the room. It only takes a handful of bites for him to drift off again. His eyes appear unfocused as he loses himself in his thoughts. This has been our routine for weeks now—sitting together in silence, and I'm tired of putting up with these quiet, awkward dinners.

"Noah?" I call to him, but he ignores me. "Noah!" I raise my voice and his head jerks up, looking at me in utter confusion.

"What's wrong?" he asks, blinking while his eyes focus on me.

"You're drifting off again." I raise my eyebrows, and he sighs in response, leaning back in his chair before bringing his glass to his lips to take a sip.

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