Page 14 of A Breath of Life
“Memphis does. His… fuck friend so far as I understand.”
Diem’s lips curled into a sneer. “I don’t want that jackass to know how we found it.”
I suppressed an eye roll. Even living together hadn’t deflated Diem’s hatred for Memphis or assuaged his concerns that we were sleeping together. My best friend would always be a threat. No amount of convincing Diem otherwise had changed his mind.
“I won’t tell him why we need the guy. I’ll get a name and set up an appointment.”
“If it’s not worth anything, we toss it.”
“Fine.”
“If it is…” Diem considered. “We find out if anyone is looking for it or has reported it stolen. We follow the proper procedure for recovering an item of value. Reward or not.”
“I’ll call Memphis in the morning and see if he can set me up with his… friend.”
“How long will it take?”
“If the guy can see me tomorrow, we’ll know tomorrow.” Since it was a day I worked in the office with Diem, my schedule was more flexible. I’d gone down to part-time at the department, working three days a week as a records clerk and two days a week as Diem’s sidekick. “Unless you need me for something else.”
He grunted in the negative, picked up his fork, and continued to eat his cold food. Conversation over.
Three bites in, he muttered, “I’m going with you.”
“I figured.” I wedged the card back inside the pouch and set it aside.
***
The hour was late by the time we finished dinner. Diem cleaned the kitchen with a passion he didn’t usually display, and I watched, wondering if it was possible to get our night back on track. Before our walk, Diem had been playful and content to the point of teasing and insinuating sexy times.
Since arriving home, he was locked up tight, stressed over the man and the card.
As he transferred the leftovers into the fridge, I hopped up to sit on the counter. He glanced my way but said nothing as he rinsed dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher. With the task completed, he looked around for something else to do. If I knew anything about my complicated boyfriend, it was that he was ten seconds from seeking relief in the form of a forty-ounce bottle of liquor he kept stashed in the freezer.
Diem fought a daily battle with alcoholism. He’d done away with his usual cases of beer, resorting to the harder stuff. His not-so-hidden stash vanished at a fantastic rate, but I no longer saw him pour himself a single drink. That was when I recognized the problem had worsened. Maybe he feared my judgment, but secretive drinking was a slippery slope. We had never talked about it, and I had a feeling he preferred my feigned ignorance.
“Come here, D.” I offered him a hand when he looked like he didn’t know where to put himself.
Maybe he wasn’tupsetin the base sense of the word, but his system was out of whack, and he needed to reboot to an earlier setting, or the night would get away from him. If that happened, he would wait until I fell asleep, get plastered, and feel a thousand times worse comemorning. Guilt and regret were unwelcome roommates in the house of Diem, and they hounded him relentlessly.
When he tentatively took my hand, I drew him between my legs in the same fashion we’d been before deciding to go out for a walk and grab food.
Reboot. Reset. Rewind.
Diem rested his hands lightly on my thighs, not nearly as high as before and with less assuredness. Without words, I dragged my fingers through his thick mop of hair, massaging his scalp in a way I knew he enjoyed.
Diem’s chin fell to his chest, and the exhale that emptied his lungs drained the rest of his tension. That was what I wanted. Release. Surrender.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“Nothing to be sorry for.”
“I ruined our night.”
“No, I’m pretty sure Mr. Edwardian Cosplay ruined our night by getting attacked and trying to die.”
“Asshole.”
I chuckled, and Diem lifted his face, a faint smile tickling the corner of his mouth. “You’re not mad at me?”
