Page 5 of A Breath of Life
Internally groaning, I eyed the dead rodent and wrinkled my nose. The rat was a decent size. Supposedly, Baby used to eat mice, but they weren’t enough anymore, so rats it was. Yuck. Diem always picked ones on the plumper side, too. Although he argued they were the smaller variety, I begged to differ.
I hopped off the counter and made a show of grabbing the container, touching it as little as possible.
Like every time, Diem asked if I wanted to feed her, but I declined, letting him do the honors. He transferred Baby’s meal into the terrarium, leaving it where he always did before locking the three latches along the lid. I double-checked they were secure, or I wouldn’t sleep at night.
Before Baby decided it was dinner time and noticed her meal, I tugged Diem away from the tank. “I don’t need to watch the horror show, orIwon’t eat, and I love Chinese food.”
Diem disposed of the container and washed his hands. Echo abandoned her spot by the door and deposited herself beside Diem’s feet, leaning against his leg. It was something she’d done since the day they met.
“Almost time, girl.” To me, he said, “Get dressed. I’ll call in an order, so it will be ready for pickup by the time we get there.”
“Extra chicken balls and sauce.”
He grunted, drying his hands on the already damp towel.
“And lots of egg rolls.”
“Get dressed, Tallus, or I’m taking you in your underwear.”
“And beef broccoli.”
Diem glared, and I scampered to the bedroom, shouting, “Don’t get soup. Waste of stomach space. Oh, and those noodle things I love. Get lots of those.”
2
Diem
Summer clung to the city in the form of a thick, sticky cloud of humidity that was unacceptable for mid-September. Even sundown offered minimal relief from the heat. It dampened my skin with sweat as we strolled the busy downtown streets, my T-shirt sticking uncomfortably to my body. Despite the conditions, I wore rugged jeans and army boots, unwilling to expose any more scars than was strictly necessary. The canvas of war wounds that ravaged my frame was not something I willingly shared with the world.
My model-gorgeous boyfriend didn’t abide by the same guidelines. He wore his fashionable silk shirt unbuttoned practically to his navel. It showed off his hairless chest and trim figure in ways that made my tongue feel thick in my mouth. In trendy shorts and sandals, Tallus’s legs went on for miles.
He’d balanced sunglasses on top of his artfully messy auburn hair, and when I pointed out the sun had gone down and he didn’t need them, he explained they were a fashion accessory, nothing more. Iwasn’t sure what that meant, but he looked good enough to eat despite the absence of his dark-framed glasses. The days he wore contacts made me sad, but regardless, Tallus always looked good, no matter how he dressed. Even fresh out of bed or rumpled from a hard fucking, he could win awards.
His walk spoke of a confidence I’d never known. It was something of a strut or a sashay. I didn’t know what to call it, but it drew the eye of men and women alike, no matter where he went. It made me unnecessarily possessive and growly. He’d called me out many times.
I stole random glances as we walked, admiring his physique, still in awe that he was mine, even though we’d been dating for a year and living together for the better part of our relationship. I didn’t always understand what he saw in me, but I questioned it less as the months passed. My therapist continually asked why I didn’t feel worthy, and my hundred-and-one excuses never got me anywhere.
Tallus and I shared a bed every night. Our sex life had astronomically improved—or at least I thought it had. His recent demands in the bedroom made me wonder if he was still not satisfied. I had learned to communicate far better than when we first started dating, but maybe it wasn’t enough.
Our relationship wasn’t perfect. Show me one that was. We had our issues, like any other couple on the planet.
Tallus was social, and I was not. People were drawn to him. They feared me. He enjoyed going out dancing and partying. I preferred staying in. Tallus had friends and a loving family. I did not—unless I counted Nana, but ever since the hospital discharged her in the spring after a bout of pneumonia, she no longer recognized me. I was as much a stranger as the men and women who cared for her, or I was a ghost from her past if I was anyone.
It broke my heart.
Tallus and I kept a slow pace, letting Echo be the guide. I hadn’t put on her working vest—something I usually did when we were out in the city—so she took liberties when it came to sniffing lampposts, benches, bus stops, subway vents, and anything within range of her leash.
Echo had earned a certificate as an emotional support dog. Even off duty, she never failed to keep an eye on me, always evaluating her charge, in tune with my temperament and ever-shifting moods. Alert, in case she was needed to calm me down.
Since she’d come into my life this past spring, the ground beneath my feet had stabilized. I’d never known this level of peace. If I got worked up, Echo recognized my distress and did her job. All it took was her undying affection and determination to steal my attention from whatever set me off, and all was right in the world again.
We stopped at a red light, and Echo sat at my feet, her golden eyes watching me like I hung the moon. I offered her a smile and glanced at my boyfriend. Tallus’s attention was far away, so when the walking sign appeared and he didn’t notice, I used it as an opportunity to take his hand—my brain still demanded excuses for initiating small affections—and drew him along.
The warmth of his grin touched my cheek, but I didn’t make eye contact, embarrassed at the bold gesture, knowing it was commonplace for most couples. Tallus liked holding hands, but he rarely initiated, knowing I had to be in the right frame of mind, especially in public. Tonight, I was calm and relaxed. I went with the flow as I fantasized about having him naked in bed later that evening.
“You’re thinking kinky thoughts, aren’t you, Guns?”
“You can’t read my mind.”
