Page 12 of Last Breath

His comment asks for defense, but I’m not up to defend it.

Gathering my wits and walking off the stone steps, I move toward the line. I won’t let either of them get the best of me. I’m stronger than they think. Yes, it bothers me that they’re so intrusive, but I have my own quirky mind that for some reason feels at peace around them. “Were youtryingto frighten me?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I wasn’t, Joy. Could you use a bit of help?”

“Thanks, I’m good.” Placing the basket on the step, I start pulling out clothing. “Thatwasstalkerish, by the way.”

I’m unsure of where to start a conversation with him. Not because he’s scary, but because I’m unsure of what he’s capable of, and what I’dlearnto be capable of. Where Malachi pushed his way in, Salem didn’t, and my fight or flight reflex doesn’t fear him.

Breaking the ice, I ask coolly, “Why were you on my doorstep, Salem?”

“We were on the road and needed somewhere to sleep. It’d been a long day. Sorry, but we didn’t expect anyone to be here.”

They didn’t? That doesn’t make me feel any better about their intrusion.

As I’m plugging along, I sneak looks at Salem, inspecting him from head to toe. His hair is straight and long, pulled into a low ponytail. He has green eyes too, but they’re more a ruddy brown mixture. His face is by no means scar free, though Malachi’s rough damage is more jagged and violent. Salem has a scar by his nose, hinting to something from his childhood. It’s faint and white, puckered where it was stitched early on in life.

The only part of him that scares me—that has me on edge—is Salem’s soft smile, which doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s fake. The smile is for display purposes only, like a mask.

Placing another piece of clothing on the line, I decide to burst the awkward bubble. “So once you knew that there were people here and that it wasn’t abandoned, why did you stay? Why hang around?”

Laughing to himself, a light enters his face. It’s probably the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. There’s a madness that can’t be explained in that expression, though I swear I’ve seen it before. “You intrigued us.”

“Why?”

“You’re stronger than you appear, Joy. You’re not meant for this.”

“Don’t you have a family? Someone you’d do things for without question?” I ask, sorting through the pile.

“Malachi,” he states darkly, eerily. “Malachi is my family. No one else matters.”

“No brothers or—”

“No. Only Malachi,” he interjects harshly, leaving no room for further questions on the matter.

On to other subjects then. “After dinner, will you leave? Will you leave us alone?”

“It depends. It’s your choice,” he states, matter-of-factly.

I’m curious. Pinning a long shirt of mine to the line, I ask, “What choice do I have? I wasn’t given a choice. You invited yourselves to dinner.”

“I am sorry about that,” he says quietly. “Though I’m not disappointed you’re here. I’m looking forward to a meal with decent people.” Well, that sounded almost sweet.

“I can handle cordial, as long as we live,” I smart.

He smirks. “You have nothing to worry about with me, Joy.”

I find that hard to believe.

“So why did you haveHenryall over your skin like a moisturizer when you arrived then?”

A slight confusion lights his features before Salem’s tone changes. “Henry? How did you know that was his name?” I realize he’s fucking serious.

Shit.

Answering as if it’s no biggie, I avoid the fear that courses through me. “I picked the name of the old guy that Gran had a crush on.” Henry died two years ago. Gran still thinks he’s twenty-two and hitting on her when he delivers the mail every Thursday.

For the next few minutes, Salem doesn’t ask anything more, and he doesn’t try to break the silence. I find that agreeable.

---