Page 144 of Breathe Like Hell

If I could’ve scarred Micah into my body instead of my mind, I would’ve done it.

“I don’t want to fuck,” he said.

“I didn’t think you did.” I dragged my eyes back to his face.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I could smell your blood,” I said as he turned around, giving me his back. Water poured down his skin, streaming over his scars. The only permanent mark either of us would ever have. “So I knew.”

“And if you knew what I was doing, why did you feel the need to come in?” The muscles in his back shifted under the water. “There’s no concern for my safety.”

“I don’t know.”

“Get the fuck out.” He turned to face me.

“No.”

Micah stepped forward, his hand flying up to slam into my throat. I pressed my lips together as he crushed my windpipe, fingers curling around the sides of my neck. The pit in my stomach grew heavier.

“We don’t do this,” he gritted out. “We fuck, and that’s it. You don’t come in here and ask me questions about my life now. You don’t come in here and look at me like you care about this shit. I don’t want you to care. I want you to leave me the fuck alone.”

I pried his hand off my neck, shoving him back under the spray, stepping forward so the water poured over my body with his.

Instability crackled along the underside of my skin like lightning.

“Well, I only came in here to see how shit you’re doing without me.” My hand snatched his wrist, my thumbnail splitting the gash back open in the center of his forearm, fresh blood pooling in the divot created by my thumb. He didn’t wince or pull away, but I knew it hurt him. I felt fucking sick to my stomach. “And I got what I needed.”

“Go home,” he said as I flung the shower door open.

“Gladly.” I grabbed my clothes off the floor, uncaring that I was dripping water everywhere. Slamming the bathroom door behind myself, I yanked on my shorts then went into Micah’s bedroom, heart pounding, hands shaking.

Dakota sleepily lifted her head when I entered, barely able to see me in the dark.

“Come here,” I said lowly, pulling her out of his bed and scooping her in my arms, getting her t-shirt all wet. But she was still half-asleep and didn’t resist me much as I carried her downstairs, then out to my freezing cold car. I kept her on my lap in the driver’s seat as I started the engine and reversed out of his driveway, accelerating onto the road.

I didn’t mean to do that shit to him, didn’t mean to make him feel worse when he was clearly already going through something. But had he ever cared about making me feel better? Not putting me through worse?

Yes.

I ignored that voice in the back of my head, because it was a fucking lie.

Micah didn’t care about me. The only reason he helped keep me stable now was to hold it over my head. To give himself more opportunities to torment me. I didn’t need him the way I used to—or that’s what I told myself. I didn’t want to need him like that. As good as it felt, I’d survived plenty of years without him.

Death chased me a whole lot closer without him, though.

Right on my heels instead of a hundred yards back. Snapping at me with teeth, swiping with claws.

But Dakota had kept me here, somehow.

With her perfect little brain, her special little soul. Whatever it was about her that made her so grounding for me. Was it possible that her mere presence was why I’d often been able to find other living Thrausians in this area? Were they all surviving on whatever gift her life had offered the world?

She was waking up, becoming more aware of what was happening with each passing minute.

“What are you doing?” she asked nervously, her eyes darting around as she sat up, trying to climb off my lap. I held her down. “Where are we going?”

“We’re leaving. Going to my place.”

“Where’s Micah? What’s happening?” Dakota leaned over to see the clock on the screen.