Page 28 of A Breath of Life (Shadowy Solutions #4)

Tallus

A t five twenty-seven, I shut down the records office. With the overhead lights off, I planted my ass on the counter, legs dangling as I waited for Diem. The edge of petulance and irritation I’d felt that morning returned. If his mood hadn’t improved, it was going to be a rough night.

I could take his erratic temper. I could take his insecurities when it came to touch and affection. I could take his inarticulate way of speaking. What I couldn’t take was him barking orders and making demands without explanation. I was a grown-ass man, and I hated being told what to do.

Diem and his four-legged companion slipped into the room a few minutes later. My boyfriend instantly stopped and scanned with a deep frown. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

I shrugged, crossing my arms. “Obviously, to make myself more vulnerable to attack and piss you off. ”

Yeah, I was not off to a good start, but my filter seemed to have gone on vacation.

Diem said nothing, but the firm line of his lips conveyed his feelings. For a long moment, he remained by the door, not meeting my gaze. He shifted his weight, adjusted Echo’s leash around his wrist, and moved to scrub a hand over his face, but seemed to think better of it before making contact.

The swelling in his nose had gone down, but the nasty bruising around his eyes was worse.

He lowered the arm and remained motionless, emitting waves of discomfort.

I waited, not-so-patiently, for him to decide what was happening. Part of me dared him to demand I get off the counter so we could leave, simply so I could disobey and voice an objection. It had been a long day of stewing, thinking, and worrying. I was in a foul mood.

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.

“Go on, D. I’m listening.”

He didn’t go on. Not at first. He traced the pattern on my shirt, tongued the cut on his lips, and pinched both eyes closed as though the mere thought pained him.

“Do you know…” He shook his head and started again. “In all my life, I’ve only ever… Fuck. Before you…” A noise of frustration rose from his throat. “Goddammit. I can’t do it.”

I rested my hands on his upper arms, bracing against the strained muscles under his T-shirt sleeves. “Yes, you can. Before me,” I prompted.

“Okay. Before you… I only ever had one boyfriend.”

Gasping playfully, I clutched my chest. “Diem Krause. Do you mean to say I wasn’t the first? Here I thought I’d won the lottery convincing you to date me. ”

The words were lighthearted, aimed at bringing his anxiety to a manageable level, but Diem’s pained expression didn’t change. I instantly regretted acting so flippant over a topic that was clearly serious.

“I’m sorry. Go on.”

“I never loved him, Tallus. Not like you. I’m not sure I even liked him. It was…” He clenched his teeth, jaw ticking as his throat worked. “Unhealthy. Destructive. Familiar.”

Abusive , he didn’t say, but I read between the lines. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear this story. Hadn’t he been through enough?

“I was young, barely out of high school, and thick into my fighting days. Angry like you wouldn’t believe. He was much older. I was a big kid. Six and a half feet by the time I was eighteen, but he was… seasoned.”

Diem sighed heavily and shook his head, trying to pull from my hold. “Never mind. This is stupid. I don’t know what I’m saying. You don’t need to hear this, and I don’t want to go back in time. Fuck Dr. Peterson. He doesn’t know shit.”

I locked my legs around Diem’s waist, keeping him in place. “Don’t do that. It’s clearly troubling you, and whatever it is, I can handle it. I’m listening, Guns. There’s no rush.”

It was a rare day when Diem felt safe enough to wade into the past and share his dark secrets.

Whatever this was, it must have felt important.

He’d never openly spoken of a past relationship, but I’d caught hints that one existed.

I’d suspected. I didn’t want him to quit sharing because he thought I couldn’t deal with the truth.

His pain was my pain. If he had to endure it every day in the confines of his mind, I wanted to be there to support him.

To share the burden. To hopefully provide an ounce of relief .

Lowering his chin, the shadows in the room engulfed him.

He spoke while fiddling with the ends of my tie.

“My entire life to that point had been a toxic sludge of abuse by my father and abandonment by my mother. Boone was great, but he always looked the other way, and Nana…” A soft sigh escaped him. “She tried. I don’t blame her.”

“What was his name?” I prompted when he got lost in his head.

“It doesn’t matter, and I’m not going to speak it. I don’t want to get into details, but I can tell you that much of our relationship —if that’s what you want to call it—revolved around…” He paused as though struggling to catch his breath or find the right word. “Around nonconsensual activities.”

“Christ, Diem.” I tugged my tie from his hands, stopping his incessant fiddling, and forced his chin up.

His pained gaze drifted over my shoulder, refusing eye contact.

When he spoke, his voice was flat and dead of emotion. “He took my father’s abuse to a level I didn’t know existed. By that point, I figured pain was a normal part of life that I would never escape. I’ve always believed I’m a worthless human being.”

“You’re not.”

“His taunts echoed my father’s. His words were the same.

When you believe your life holds no value and that you deserve what’s being done, you don’t fight back.

You take the punishment because you must have asked for it.

By that point, I was already on a downward spiral.

Drinking and drugs were a huge problem. I’d cut my thighs to shit to purge the vileness I was told lived inside me.

I… I wanted to slit my wrists and was fairly certain I would find the courage one day.

If I didn’t kill myself, maybe I could provoke him enough that he would do it for me.

I wanted someone to put me out of my misery. ”

I barely recognized Diem’s voice any longer. His hollow tone chilled me. He talked but was far, far away. Lost in the past. In the pain .

“That bar fight I told you about. The one where I nearly killed the guy and wound up in rehab, thanks to Nana. That’s how I got out.

It took months of rehab before I found an ounce of self-worth and decided I didn’t want to die.

That’s when I swore that I would never again be someone else’s punching bag. ”

Diem grew silent, but I sensed he wasn’t done.

He was merely ordering his thoughts before continuing, so I let him.

Why he’d chosen today to unveil this secret, I had no idea.

It felt like it came out of left field. The beating had triggered him badly.

The loss of control, I assumed. The powerlessness of the ordeal.

It must have unearthed a flood of memories.

His haunted gaze met mine. When his hands landed on my thighs again, they trembled. “You’ve given me so much, Tallus.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before you, I didn’t know what happiness looked like. I didn’t think it was a real thing or possible for someone like me. I didn’t know what constituted a healthy relationship. No one has ever looked at me the way you do. I know you try to be patient.”

“I’ve failed lately.”

“No. It’s me. I don’t respond well when under stress. I know that. I’m trying to change.”

“It’s okay, D.”

“No. It isn’t. Things are bad right now inside my head. I’m feeling out of control. If I put you in a box and make unreasonable demands, it’s because I don’t know how to handle what’s going on.”

I wanted to ask, What is going on? But I kept my mouth shut.

“I have this fierce urge to protect you. I’m scared of anyone hurting you.

The thought is so goddamn terrifying that it takes over, and I say things and do things…

It pisses you off. I see it, but I can’t stop myself.

I want to put you in a fucking box and never let you out, but th at’s unreasonable.

I know that. I feel like I’m one breath away from ruining the best thing that has ever happened to me. ”

I burrowed into his arms and rested my cheek and ear against his chest. His breathing hitched, and his heart pounded.

He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. “If something happened to you, I wouldn’t survive it.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” But the tingle of apprehension returned. Diem’s worries over my safety weren’t abating. In fact, he seemed more agitated now than earlier.

Red flags waved. Alarm bells rang.

Ominous dread blanketed me. Danger seemed to lurk on the horizon, but I didn’t know what that danger was because Diem wouldn’t tell me.

After a long, comforting embrace, I pulled back. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask again what had happened to make him so jumpy and paranoid, but I clamped my mouth shut.

That was when the goddamn leather pouch on his wrist drew my attention. It was still there.

Frowning, I stared at it. Something about its presence bothered me to my core. When did Diem start wearing it as a bracelet? Why?

I worked through his odd behavior, trying to pinpoint the elusive piece that made up this frustrating puzzle.

Diem drawing all the curtains in the apartment.

Peering out at the street below as though we were being watched. Stalked. Hunted.

Concealing weapons under his pant leg.

Barking orders for me to stay inside and not go anywhere alone.

Paranoia.

Raw confessions.

Wrong numbers in the middle of the night .

Vague explanations about his supposed encounter with men who had attacked him.

Demands that he stay and watch me work.

But of all the weirdness, the leather pouch around his wrist didn’t seem to fit. What did any of it have to do with the card? Nothing, so far as I understood. The card had come before the attack.

Yeah, I got that he didn’t trust me not to steal it and sell it behind his back, but before he’d randomly disappeared and arrived home bloodied, he’d carried it in a pocket like a normal fucking person.

I’d first noticed it around his wrist last night when he’d joined me for cereal. I’d puzzled it on our drive to headquarters that morning.

There it remained, physically tied to his wrist like he feared parting with it.

“We should go.” Diem’s rasping tone cut into my thoughts. “We’re meeting my hospital contact at six. If we don’t get moving, we’ll be late. He should be able to get us Clarence’s last name and address.”

I blinked out of the daze surrounding the pouch and card and narrowed my eyes at his words. “Clarence?”

Diem blinked and opened his mouth to respond, but no words followed.

“Who’s Clarence?”

“The…” His gaze shifted away and back. “The guy from the alley.”

“You know his first name?”

Diem pulled from my arms and whistled for Echo as he headed for the door. “I remembered one of the ambulance guys saying it.”

Bullshit. No one knew who the guy was at that point, and I certainly didn’t recall anyone fishing a wallet from his pocket and announcing his name.

Diem lied—again—but I couldn’t figure out why.

The pouch. The paranoia. The confessions. The fear.

And a growing mountain of lies.

Diem had trained me as an investigator, and it was about time I did my own investigating. If he didn’t want to tell me the truth, I would figure it out on my own.