Page 1 of Always Salty

DIMA + KEELY

Was it considered stalking if the woman you were stalking liked the idea of being stalked?

It started out like any other job.

My brother, the head of the Russian Mafia, wanted me to delete an opponent. Like the good brother I was, I decided to give him what he wanted.

In doing so, I ended up finding a woman that made my cold, dead heart start to beat again.

One day while doing some reconnaissance on my target, I happen to overhear Keely telling her friend one of her darkest fantasies, and I decide that I’d be the one fulfilling that particular craving for her.

I tell myself that it’s only once. I’d give in to that darkness inside of me once, and I’ll leave her alone from then on.

Except, once turns into twice. And twice turns into way too many to count.

Just when I plan to cut all ties so she doesn’t start to develop feelings for a killer, I find out that Keely doesn’t have just one stalker. She has two. And the one that wasn’t me wanted her dead, and I couldn’t allow that to happen.

Not to her.

Not to the woman that not only chased my demons away, but also didn’t care that I had them in the first place.

To the man that owns my heart. I love you despite the fact that you can’t find a fucking trashcan to save your life. I love you even though when you shave your beard, all of your hair lands in the freakin’ sink and you don’t clean it up. I love you even though you’re the messiest cooker on the planet.

* * *

I love you because you give me anything I want. A hug when I’m in the worst mood. A sweatshirt because you know I’m cold. A lift down out of the back of the truck when I could just as easily jump down. A batch of cookies even though you didn’t want to make them. A complicated coffee drink even though ordering it takes you a whole thirty-nine seconds to tell the barista what I want.

* * *

I love you because you’re the dad to our children my own father never was.

* * *

I love you because you’re you.

* * *

And this book, like so many others before, is for you.

When I win the lottery, the first thing I’m going to buy is a pot to piss in. I’ve always wanted one of those.

—Keely to Copper

KEELY

13 years old

I didn’t want to go home.

But, because I had no other choice, I started walking anyway.

I didn’t have a phone, so I couldn’t call one of my brothers to pick me up. Consequently, I was soaked when I arrived home because, although it was only misting, I’d been walking in that mist for a solid forty-five minutes.

Luckily, it was warm out.

When I arrived home, I put my backpack in the laundry room where hopefully it was warm enough to dry off quickly, then deposited my shoes on the mat beside the door.

Since I was the one who cleaned—everything—I’d implemented a rule with my family that we always took our shoes off at the door to avoid having to clean any more than I had to.

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