Page 19 of Last Breath

Our rickety old house doesn’t have running plumbing in the upstairs, and the room at the end of the hall—that even on the most fearless days I won’t enter—isn’t even habitable for rodents. It’s been firmly slammed shut for ages and I’ll keep it that way. The roof is minimal, there’s nothing of interest in it, and the last person to enter died of cancer. If I could I’d cover it with wood, plastic, C-4, numerous pucks for bugs and traps for mice, then I’d set a string of bells. I don’t assume ghosts are real, but in that room, you feel the dead creep across your bones.

Not even these two deserve that room.

I open the door to the room across the hall from mine. “I hope this will be enough for you both. We don’t have a lot of extra space.”

Stopping at the door and looking me up and down, Malachi questions with a quirky smirk, “And where do you sleep, might I ask?”

The scars on his cheeks dance across his features in a beautiful way when he smiles. I want to reach out and touch them, feeling their edges, learning their story. But I hold back. Kicking myself for even considering such a thing, I give myself a mental shake.

“After I get Gran settled, I’ll be sleeping with a shotgun and a pair of Viking swords.”

Even in the dim light, I see him smile. “That’s not what I asked, Joy.”

Feeling my temperature rise and my heartbeat increase, I absently wonder if my deodorant is working. Pointing to the room across the hall from where we stand, I tell him, “I sleep there.”

Stepping close, bringing himself mere inches away from me, Malachi sinfully asks, “Do you lock the door and load those weapons?” Bringing himself closer yet, closer than I should find comfortable, he says my name on a heated breath. “Or is it all for show, Joy?”

I swear my panties dampen.

Damn, I’ve been without the hands of a man on me for far too long.

“Here’s what I want you to consider.” Placing a finger under my chin, he raises my face up to look him in the eyes. “If you close it and not lock it, then I’ll know you want to see me.Don’tclose the door, leaving it wide open, then I know you’d like both of us.” He kisses my cheek. “And Joy, no matter what your Gran said, that doesn’t make you a whore.” Turning and walking into the room, closing the door slightly and grinning the whole time, he leaves me breathless.

Standing still a moment longer than I should, I try to compose myself. If I’m being honest, since he and Salem walked through the door, I’ve been on fire. That invitation sounds delicious and enticing. Iwantto accept it. Whether I want to admit it or not, I’m both aroused and angered by my own reaction to him.

To both of them.

Shaking myself and traipsing back down to get Gran into bed, I think on the request. The dinner was enjoyable, the company was light and lovely—even after Gran shot Salem—and they both cleaned up the dinner mess as I took her for a shower.

Enjoyable company? There’s something that’s been sorely lacking. Talking to anyone other than Gran has become something of an anomaly. When I do leave the house, I wander through the general store picking up what I need, not speaking to anyone, and not asking for interaction. These two, I find them a welcome addition to my day. Malachi isn’t at all what I expected from the man that walked through the door, and Salem is turning out to be an even bigger mystery. He’s attentive in his actions, he’s smart, and even though I think he’s possibly a textbook psychopath, I find an odd serenity in him, as if the insanity makes him sane.

Does it make sense? No. But it feels correct.

“Sweetie?” Gran calls out as I move toward the last stair. Fuck, I almost made it down without her calling me.

“Yes, it’s me, Gran.”

“Sweetie, my music stopped.”

“I’ll start it for you after you take your pills.” Walking to the kitchen, I pour her a glass of water. Grabbing a slice of bread, I start back with her pills, giving them to her in their specific order—take with food, take with water, chewable.

“I hate taking these.”

I know. God, I know.

“Take them, Gran,” I plead.

Making sure she swallows them, I select a record. It’s a favorite of ours and it’ll help me get her into the bed. Lifting her slight frame as the lilting song has her swaying to it’s beat, I move her to the twin bed set up in the living room. Tucking her in, kissing her lightly on the forehead, I smile. I feel at peace tonight.

“You’re a lovely girl. Thank you for today, Joy.” Seeing the tears rest in her rheumy eyes, she adds, “I’m so sorry you have to spend your young life with me. Promise me, you’ll leave here when I’m gone.”

“Time to get a good night’s sleep, Gran. I love you.”

“Good night, Joy.”

Turning away, flicking off the tiny light, I start toward the stairs. Stopping short, I’m surprised by the man waiting on the step.

“Salem?”

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