Page 35 of Skeletons in the Closet

“I have to go,” I said into the phone.

“Is everything okay?”

“Just fucking peachy.” I disconnected the call, jammed the keys into the ignition, and gunned the engine, driving directly to the gym. Some poor punching bag was going to see no mercy.

10

Diem

Freshly showered and with my blood pressure at a safer level, I drove home. Two hours sweating it out in the gym had made my muscles trembly, especially since it was my second visit of the day, but it had also taken me down a notch.

Dr. Peterson had been inside my head the entire time, coaching me through the episode with my father. I was craving a smoke and a hard fuck, and I knew the second I got home, I would crack a beer—despite the hypocrisy of the idea—and drown whatever remained of my troubles. Having an alcoholic father had not turned me off the drink. Itshouldhave, and I wanted nothing more than to eliminate all the nasty habits I’d developed as coping mechanisms, but the strain was too much.

I was my father through and through. No amount of therapy had changed me. It was an ugly fact I had to live with for the rest of my life.

Maybe I would log into Spark and find a willing body to alleviate the rest of my stress.

Except, when I exited the stairwell on the third floor of the building, I found Tallus leaning against the wall beside my office door. I stalled, joints growing sticky with shock, nerve endings still snapping and popping from my workout.

But was it shock? Tallus’s appearance was not surprising. The man had an itch for detective work. He’d wanted to talk earlier, and I’d shut him down. I should have known it wouldn’t be easy to shake him after enlisting his help. What had he said on the phone earlier? Something about information? My head had been too scrambled to take it in. It looked like there was no avoiding him now.

This was a bad scene. Episodes with Dad left me in pure fight mode. They turned my blood to lava and left me wanting to hit, scream, or fuck.

Three things I didn’t want to do with Tallus. Although, the latter was a matter of debate.

Burying those urges, I ducked my chin and trudged down the hall, staring at the shit-brown carpet as I thumbed my keys. The jitters were back. My blood pressure was rising. The craving for a smoke grew more intense, and I couldn’t remember why I’d bothered quitting in the first place. I was crippled by the old man and should roll over and admit defeat. What was the point? The last thing I wanted was a stupid piece of gum. They didn’t calm me down. They did shit all for my upset system.

No. I needed a beer, a smoke, and…

Spark. I needed Spark, not Tallus.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped as I fumbled the key into the lock. I knew my tone was unfriendly, but I couldn’t help it.

“I wanted to share what I found.”

“Could have waited.”

“Sure, I considered coming back tomorrow night, but as I was on my way home from my mother’s, I figured I’d see if you were around. I haven’t been waiting long. You all right, Guns?”

I grunted a nonresponse and entered the office. Moving through the dark interior, I aimed for the door to my homestead. I keyed in and found the light switch, bathing the room in a harsh white light. After the day I’d had, it pierced needles across my skin. I wanted to dim it but had no way to do so. Had Tallus not been following on my heels, I’d have left it off, found a beer, and sat in the glow of the TV with my eyes closed to decompress. The less stimulation, the better.

But no. Tallus had shown up. Model-gorgeous Tallus. Tallus, who was always one step too far into my business. Tallus, whose allure was far more appealing than some stranger’s on Spark.

Of course he decided to poke his nose where it didn’t belong. It was what he did. This wasn’t about the case. It wasn’t an exchange of information like he claimed. He’d overheard a catastrophe on the phone and was curious. He was nosing into my personal business.

I tossed my gym bag in the corner with the rest of my dirty clothes, making a mental note to head to the laundromat the following day, then aimed for the fridge.

“Beer?” I mumbled.

“Sure.”

I uncapped a pair and handed him one, taking a stance in the middle of the room, not inviting him to sit down while hoping he would get to the point and leave so I could browse my app in peace. So I could find a nameless, unimportant—hopefully too drunk to make demands—guy to bring me down the final few pegs so I could sleep. Either that or I was quitting quitting.

Again.

Tallus didn’t look like he was going anywhere soon. His attention was on Baby’s aquarium. She wasn’t in her hollowed-out log and was stretched long across the front of the glass. It was almost feeding time. She was far more active in the days leading up to her big rat dinner.

Surprisingly, Tallus approached Baby’s aquarium and squatted to be at eye level. In the past, he’d shown nothing but repulsion toward my pet. “Will she get much bigger?” he asked.

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