Page 7 of Silent Truths

He was on a path of self-destruction.

And it was all my goddamn fault.

4

Tor

A thousand little dwarves were hammering away in my head, hacking away at my skull, when I slowly blinked my eyes open. The room was still cast in darkness, thanks to the black-out drapes hanging over the windows and the door being closed. Even our bathroom door wasn’t open, which meant the nightlight Salem and I kept in there was blocked from reaching the room like it usually did.

Groaning, I pushed myself into a sitting position, swallowing vomit as it rose in my throat. Throwing up would only make my head hurt worse, and I couldn’t handle more pain throbbing inside my skull. Slowly, with legs that felt like mere noodles beneath me, I slipped out of bed and padded barefoot to the bathroom, wincing at the nightlight. It was a soft, yellow glow, but fuck, it still hurt like hell. I took a moment to empty my bladder, my hand pressed to the wall above the toilet to keep me upright. No doubt, I was still pretty drunk, but at least I could walk.

I had no idea how I’d even made it back to bed. Honestly, the last thing I remembered was being outside, staring up at the stars. How the hell had I even made it back into the house?

Knowing the rest of the house would be bright, I grabbed a pair of shades out of my nightstand and slipped them onto my face before meandering out of the bedroom, my steps slow and sluggish… not to mention, I was trying real fucking hard not to fall on my damn face.

Yeah… I was definitely still a bit drunk.

The smell of greasy bacon assaulted my nostrils, along with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I paused at the entrance of the kitchen, blinking in surprise at the sight of Salem standing in front of the stove in nothing more than a pair of black sweatpants riding low on his hips. There was no shirt to be found, his slim, muscular body on display for me to ogle—which was fucking torture. His hair was disheveled, like he’d rolled straight off the couch to come make breakfast.

And Salem never cooked. He fucking hated it.

He roughly cleared his throat. “I, uh, thought you could use some bacon and coffee this morning,” he muttered. He jerked his head over to the small table, where a plate of bacon and a cup of coffee were sitting, along with two pain pills on a small, folded napkin. “You should probably take those pills, too. You know, for your headache.”

Once upon a time, we had never been this awkward with each other. Weren’t so lost when it came to figuring out what the other needed and wanted. We’d known as if we were tending to ourselves. He was a part of me just as I was a part of him.

It’d only been a year and a half ago that we were so damn comfortable with each other, Salem knew exactly what I needed with one damn look. Just by being in my space, he knew what I was thinking.

But that felt so damn long ago now, and my chest ached with the loss. Every single fucking day, I suffered because he’d ripped himself away from me.

Instead of saying anything, I just made my way to the table and dropped down into the wooden chair before grabbing the pain pills. I swallowed them dry and then shoved an entire piece of bacon in my mouth. Bacon was my preferred hangover food, and it made me sad as fuck to know that Salem still remembered that. Had taken the time to cook some for me because he knew I would need it this morning.

Had he been the one to bring me to bed?

I didn’t know, and I was too damn afraid to open my mouth to ask. Because what if that made him lash out at me yet again? We’d been at each other’s throats for months now—over a year. All because he was too much of an asshole to talk about what had happened between us.

I’d lost not just the man I was in love with that night, but I’d fucking lost my best friend, too. My rock. My soul mate. The one person I needed in this cruel world.

I felt that loss every fucking second of the day. It was a hollow feeling inside my chest, and no matter what I did, I could never fill it.

I’d just finally resorted to trying to numb the constant, throbbing pain. To fill the emptiness with liquor.

The silence in the room was tense, only broken by the sound of Salem finishing up the bacon he was frying and him making himself another cup of coffee. When he sat down at the table beside me, my entire body tensed like a coiled spring. I was ready to leap from the table at a moment’s notice.

But Salem didn’t say or do anything. He just ate his breakfast, and when I finally stood up from the table to rinse my plate off and my cup out, I could feel his eyes boring into my back.

I didn’t dare turn around.

Instead, once I’d placed them in the dishwasher, I just made my way back to our room, not uttering a word.

Not even a thank you.

Because honestly, after what the fuck Salem had put me through, he didn’t deserve a fucking thank you.

Quite frankly, he could have a horse cock shoved up his ass.

I looked up at Kalin when he stepped out onto the back patio. I lifted my blunt to my lips, arching a single brow at him, trying to prompt him to tell me why he’d come barging into the peace I’d finally managed to find.

“Delia called,” he told me. “She wants all of us at Nightshade for a meeting.”

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