Page 57 of A Breath of Life
In the end, Diem didn’t bark commands. He turned the lock on the door and let Echo off her leash before tentatively entering the room. He approached like a nervous kitty, one shuffling step at a time, and I instantly hated myself for anticipating a fight, for actively looking for one.
Again. What was wrong with me?
Diem stopped a few feet away, and I uncrossed my arms, taking down the wall I had hypocritically erected.
“I had a bad day,” he croaked.
“You and me both.”
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor. “I made an appointment with Dr. Peterson.”
Diem didn’t see his therapist as often anymore. A willingly added visit was outside the norm and a huge red flag.
“Because you were attacked?”
He didn’t respond.
“Because we can’t stop fighting?”
Still no answer, but the strain in his eyes said this guess was closer to the truth.
When he remained distant, curled up in himself and seemingly unable to step forward, I offered my hand, inviting him to close the gap. “Come here, D.”
Relief loosened his muscles. He moved between my legs, his attention fixed on my tie. “Can I… touch you?”
“You never need to ask.”
“You’re giving a vibe like I shouldn’t.”
“I’m frustrated, and I’ve been stuck inside the office all day because you made me promise not to leave.”
He nodded. “I know.”
Gently, he rested his hands on my thighs, stroking lovingly up and down once before hooking them around my waist and drawing me flush against his broad body. Even positioned on the countertop, Diem stood a good head taller, forcing me to tip my face to look him in the eyes.
With the lights off, his irises were dark as coal, but they held a softness, a longing I rarely saw outside the bedroom.
“Bad day, huh?” I aimed for a level tone.
“Torture.” A stitch appeared between his brows. “I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams.”
“Why?”
He wet his lips and glanced around as though seeking the right words to explain. For a time, he seemed lost in his head. For once, I didn’t rush him.
“We’re fighting. Again. I’m acting like a dick. There’s stuff I haven’t told you, Tallus.”
My skin prickled. “Okay.”
“About… my past.”
That was not what I expected, but I stayed quiet, letting him continue.
“I’ve… had a lot of flashbacks today. They were triggered by… something. The vault door opened, and I can’t seem to close it.” He picked at invisible dirt on my tie, unable to meet my gaze. “Dr. Peterson says that talking about shit helps take away its power. I always tell him it’s bullshit, but…”
His words died off, and my concern rose with the sheer devastation pouring from his soul. I knew some of Diem’s ugly past, but he kept most of it bottled up. These moments of confession were rare. They usually came after a good orgasm as we lay in bed in the dark.
If he wanted to share here and now, I would be there for him, no matter how grisly the story—and they were always grisly.
