Page 6

6

Diem

“ T hat was heavy,” Tallus said as we got into the Jeep. “I could barely breathe in that suffocating room.”

I grunted in agreement. Too many accidents growing up meant I’d developed a strong dislike for hospitals. It wasn’t necessarily the cloying smell of antiseptic and sickness that smacked you in the face when you entered, but the quiet sense of doom that hung in the air. Hospitals, to me, represented pain and suffering, not health and wellness. They unearthed long-buried memories I worked hard to forget. I’d spent countless hours in emergency rooms with broken arms, dislocated shoulders, deep cuts that required stitches, and wild tales to fool the smartest of nurses and doctors, cleverly instilled upon me by my father.

I’d learned to lie under the threat of more violence. More pain. More suffering.

Heavy didn’t begin to explain the thickness of the atmosphere. Hospitals threatened a PTSD reaction if I didn’t keep a careful hold of myself.

“Are you okay?” Tallus asked with too much concern.

“Fine.”

“You seem… tense.”

“I’m fine.”

“Was it because—”

“Tallus. Don’t.”

He smartly shut up and adjusted the temperature setting before angling the heat vents so they blew hot air over his outstretched hands. The outdoor temperature hovered near freezing, and Tallus’s tendency to dress for fashion rather than practicality meant he was likely cold.

We had a couple of hours before our scheduled meeting at Delaney’s house in Port Hope. She wanted time with her son, and I wanted time to consider the information on the table.

“What do you think of all this?” Tallus asked as I pulled from the hospital parking lot. “Do we have a case?”

“I don’t know.”

“What she’s suggesting is pretty convoluted. I mean, not only does the story illustrate the exact accident, but it suggests there was a second person involved. If Weston didn’t write it, who did? And why was it in his possession? It makes no sense.”

I grunted, aiming for the highway. All good questions.

“Then again, what the police suggest seems equally convoluted, don’t you think? A nice, easy way to ignore something super concerning.”

Another grunt escaped me before I caught how uncommunicative I was being and added, “I agree.”

“I can see Delaney’s concern, but if the police couldn’t find proof of her theory, what the hell does she expect us to do?”

I grunted, shrugged, and mumbled, “I don’t know.”

“What’s our plan?”

“I don’t know.”

“I mean, what exactly is there to investigate?”

“I don’t know.”

Tallus stared at the stretch of highway in front of us. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know.”

Tallus sighed with evident frustration.

I squirmed, knowing I was being a pain in the ass. “I’m not trying to annoy you.”

“I know.”

Communicate , I reminded myself. “I’m functioning on no sleep, and my brain isn’t processing properly. It’s… hard to talk when my brain cells aren’t aligning.”

“I know.”

I was tired and hungry, but the mere thought of returning to the ticking house of pink Ivory fucking Lace for a nap made my skin crawl, so I drove aimlessly.

“Pull up a map of Port Hope.” I motioned to Tallus’s phone. “Find the location of the high school and the library. Look up where the Mandels live.” Delaney had given us her home address, but I wasn’t familiar enough with the town to know where it was in relation to those key areas where her son had supposedly been on the day he ended up in the river.

While Tallus browsed, I took us back to Port Hope. Once I hit town, I aimed for the drugstore I’d noticed when we arrived the following day. Parked, I killed the engine and reached for the door handle. “I’ll be back.”

Tallus glanced up from his phone with a frown. “Drugstore? What are we doing here?”

“I need Tylenol and earplugs.” At his confusion, I added, “It was this or the hardware store where I could buy a hammer for less money and smash all those fucking clocks. I slept for shit last night. I’m tired and cranky. I need a nap before we chat with that woman again, or my self-restraint might suffer, and I could get us fired before we begin. I need this money.”

Tallus smirked. “I love it. You’ve become so self-aware.”

I glared.

“What? You have.” He gestured to the drugstore. “You’re choosing a practical solution as opposed to a violent response. That’s some decent problem-solving, Guns. You’ve made the right choice. I’m so proud.”

“I don’t like what your face is doing right now.”

“It’s called being smug, darlin’.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Dr. Peterson would be proud too. He might even give you a gold star. We should call him.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m not doing this to please him. Or you. I’m doing it to keep my ass out of jail and hopefully earn enough money to pay my fucking rent so I’m not homeless and jobless come the new year.”

Tallus’s smirk almost cut through my exhaustion. He popped his seat belt and leaned over the console, snagging the edge of my jacket before I could escape.

“Come here.” He kissed my snarling mouth as he cupped my scruffy, unshaven jaw. The rigidity in my muscles loosened at the contact, and I kissed him back, hostility instantly draining. Intimacy with Tallus was easier every day. Sometimes, I focused so hard on the things I couldn’t do that I forgot to be proud of the obstacles I’d already conquered.

Like kissing.

“You’re a bit grumpy today,” he said against my mouth.

“I’m tired.”

“It’s a big bed. Would you share it with me if I promised not to cross the invisible line in the middle?”

“It’s not that. It’s… Tallus.”

“Never mind. We could relocate to a motel and get two rooms.”

I’d considered it a hundred times, but the truth was, not only did I desperately want to overcome the whole shared bed aspect of our relationship, but I couldn’t justify the cost. Tallus had no idea how close to bankruptcy I’d taken the business. I’d hinted here and there but never gone into detail. All his training would be for naught if I couldn’t bring in more jobs or at least keep the clients who hired me. As it stood, Delaney was footing the bill for food and accommodations since the job was outside Toronto city limits. I couldn’t afford to take us somewhere else, let alone pay for two rooms.

“No. It’s fine. I’ll get some Tylenol and earplugs and take a nap.”

“And tonight?” The unspoken question hung in the air. Will you sleep beside me?

I didn’t answer and encouraged Tallus to return to his side of the Jeep. “I’ll be back.”

Before I could slam the door, he shouted, “Wait. Can you grab snacks? I’m hungry.”

Grumbling, I dug my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans and tossed him a twenty. It was all the cash I had on me. The rest of our expenses would go on the business credit card for Delaney to pay. “Café across the street. Get proper food. Sandwiches or something… and a receipt.”

We rendezvoused at the Jeep ten minutes later, and I took us the few extra blocks to Ivory Lace B let it wrap all around me. I wanted intimacy to feel this good.

Time, he’d said, and practice. But how much time?

Before long, I fell asleep.

I dream of fighting. Of anger. Of punching a brick wall until my knuckles bleed.

Someone’s face beneath my fist. My own face. I’m punching myself, and the anger is all-consuming. Teeth shatter. Skin breaks. Blood pours from my mouth and nose. I keep fighting. Flailing. Screaming. I can’t stop.

A slap. A sting.

The bite of a bike chain cutting flesh.

Hands at my throat.

Pressure against my chest.

Underwater. I can’t breathe. My lungs. I need air.

Restraints around my wrists. I’m stuck. Trapped under the earth. Under the ice. Buried alive.

Punching. Punching. Blood flowing freely.

Intoxicating anger.

It’s my face. My face.

Drowning. Suffocating.

A boot to the head. Swollen eyes. I can’t see. A bike chain slicing skin.

Darkness.

A cemetery. The rotting scent of wilted flowers. Death in my nose. Down my throat.

Decay. A tombstone.

Here lies Diem Krause.

Beeping. Beeping.

You’re good for nothing.

A waste of space.

A punch.

Colliding into a brick wall.

Teeth shattering.

Blood in my mouth.

Spittle on my chin.

A kick to the abdomen. To the face. To the balls.

Good for nothing.

Rotting flowers.

Death.

Decay.

Good for nothing.

Shivering.

I search for the pain, but it’s absent. I feel nothing.

I can’t move.

I’m stuck.

No pain.

Another hit.

No pain.

It’s not real. I’m not here.

It’s an illusion.

A dream.

Open your eyes.

It’s a dream.

A dream.

Let me out.

No answer. I’m alone. Alone.

Alone.

Open your fucking eyes. Open your fucking eyes.

It’s a nightmare. A familiar fucking nightmare. I’ve been here more times than I can count.

Open your fucking eyes.

Open your fucking eyes!

Edging toward consciousness, I focused on connecting the synapses between brain and eyelids, forcing them open with all my might, knowing it was the only way to break free of the nightmare. They resisted, then released, and I flailed, gasping a lungful of pungently scented air like I’d been underwater for decades. The poisonous stench on my tongue made me gag, but I didn’t care. I coughed and sucked oxygen, still tasting residual blood that wasn’t there.

I ran my tongue along my teeth, finding them intact.

I was in bed.

Taking in the room, orienting myself, heart knocking a tattoo against my ribs, I remembered the B&B. The case. A nap. I’d taken a nap.

Glancing to the other side of the bed, I discovered Tallus fast asleep in the fetal position, hovering at the far edge of the king-size mattress. The man had gone out of his way not to intrude on my space.

Guilt swamped my veins.

I swiped a hand over my face, mopping the sweat that had gathered and blowing out a steadying breath. I hadn’t dreamed like that in a while, but when I did, I woke bone-weary from having fought so hard in my sleep. With Dr. Peterson’s help, we discovered that the bad ones only surfaced when my stress level was especially high.

Was it the prospect of sharing a bed with Tallus or the uncertain future of my business?

Muscles still clenched, I reached a stiff arm to the bedside table and fumbled with my phone, checking the time. We had an hour before meeting Delaney at her house.

I replaced the phone on the bedside table and rolled to face Tallus. The little shit had fallen asleep with his glasses on again, and they were askew. “You’re going to break these fucking things again,” I mumbled, carefully removing them and setting them beside my phone.

I debated what to do. He seemed peaceful, and I hated to disturb his slumber. Staring openly, I took in Tallus’s natural beauty, ignoring the knot of worry pulling tighter and tighter in my chest. A voice screamed a reminder that I needed to pull my shit together or lose him.

After ten minutes of inaction, of doing nothing more than watch him sleep, he stirred.

Without opening his eyes, he croaked, “You’re staring.”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“I can feel your eyeballs creeping my body.”

“Can’t help it. You’re hot.”

“I know. I didn’t say I blamed you.”

“Modest as always.”

He chuckled sleepily. “What time is it?”

“We should get ready to head out.”

He groaned and rolled to his back, stretching his long, lithe body. With his arms overhead, his shirt lifted until I peeked the smooth, pale skin by his navel. My mouth watered.

“Touch me, D.” He licked his lips salaciously. “I know you want to.”

I growl-grunted something inarticulate.

“Was that a protest?”

“I…” God I wanted to. “We have to get ready to go out.”

“No. Touch me, D.” He pinned me with his trademark smirk full of sultry mischief as he arched his back. The act drew his shirt higher.

My gaze slipped from his navel to the mound in the front of his fitted pants.

Tallus didn’t ask again and waited as I silently processed and tried to figure out how to move forward. I shuffled closer and cautiously rested a hand on his hip, sliding the pad of my thumb over the bare skin showing at his midsection. Silky, soft, and warm. Like porcelain. Like an angel. I had no right to touch him like this. I was the ogre in this fairy tale.

“Turn that big nasty brain off and stop thinking so hard.”

I exhaled a shaky breath as I drew him toward me. Tallus rolled to his side and shuffled closer.

He was right there, practically in my arms.

“Kiss me, D.”

That I could do.

I leaned in and connected our mouths. It started awkwardly—it always started awkwardly—but in no time, we found our groove, and I got lost in his mouth, taste, and warmth. My hand sat stationary and unmoving at the small of his back. I could move it to his ass, draw him against me. I could thread my fingers through his hair and roll him to his back and…

My imagination stuttered as though anything further was beyond reckoning.

If I was the guide in this love affair, the tour was over, and what a sad experience it had been. Without Tallus pushing us forward—or telling me what to do—I tended to get stuck in first gear, flooding the engine and killing the moment.

We kissed, exploring each other’s mouths. He rocked into me, and my blood turned to lava. He didn’t request more. In truth, we didn’t have time. My failing attempt at lovemaking would have to be put off until later.

“Will you sleep beside me tonight?” he asked when we came apart.

“I… want that. I… Sometimes I have bad dreams, and…”

“I know.”

“You do?”

He shrugged. “I figured.”

“That’s not why I’m struggling.”

“I know that too.”

“It’s the intimacy. It… it perpetuates the nightmares, and I… They can be awful at times.”

“Stress?”

I nodded.

He rested a hand on my unshaven cheek. “No one has ever taught you positive touch.”

I hated that he saw the truth. I felt exposed and vulnerable. “Pushing my boundaries could risk a setback. I don’t want to fuck this up, but my mental health is fragile on a good day.”

“I know.”

It had been six weeks since my last cigarette, and it had been an act of intimacy with Tallus that had drawn me back to the habit then. I didn’t handle stress well and used unhealthy crutches to cope. Smoking and drinking.

Alcoholism ran in the family, and I hadn’t succeeded in kicking the habit. For the moment, it was under control, but too much stress could trigger me. Drinking hazarded violence and anger. It had the potential to unearth Past Diem, and Past Diem was someone I wanted to avoid. He was the face in the dream. The one I fought. He was a man who risked turning into his father, and I’d rather slit my own throat than have that happen.

Past Diem wasn’t allowed anywhere near Tallus.

“D, I get it.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I stayed silent.

“I’ll take all I can get.”

But it wasn’t fair when I gave so little. So, to test myself, to prove I wasn’t completely inept and had made strides in the past six weeks, I put pressure on his lower back and encouraged him to move against my chest. He went willingly, and I wrapped him in my arms, burying my nose in his hair. I inhaled peace and serenity. Hope. He likely felt the inner tremble rocking me off balance, but he didn’t mention it.

Nuzzling his face into my chest, he whispered, “I feel safe with you, D. I know you would never hurt me.”

“I’d rather die.”