Page 147 of Breathe Like Hell

“It would be fair that way.”

No, it wouldn’t. Because you’re still choosing his house over my apartment. Because I’m still the intruder into your perfect life with him.

I’m always the poison in the water.

I didn’t say those things, though. I didn’t say anything.

We made the drive back to Micah’s in silence, and Dakota remained laying with her cheek on my forearm the whole way, her breathing evening out and getting slower. She was tired. She was always tired. And I needed to quit being such a fuckup so she could actually rest.

The night after we killed Aamon was probably such a nice night for her. She got to sleep at her friend’s apartment with none of the bullshit Micah or I brought into her life. She got to rest, to be with someone who cared for her in such a simple, uncomplicated way. I’d never be like that.

Dakota hardly waited for me to put the car in park before hopping out of the passenger side and running barefoot up the steps to Micah’s house. I rushed up right after her, my hand landing on her lower back to lead her through the front door.

There weren’t any lights on in the house, but I could see Micah sitting in the chair in his living room. His head was down, but he turned at the sound of the front door swinging open.

Dakota ran over to him and he stood up, instantly taking her in his arms, as if they’d been apart for weeks rather than minutes.

And it was either too dark or she was too distracted because she didn’t seem to notice the wounds still healing on the insides of his arms. One spot was less healed than the rest, still split farther apart. The place where I’d shoved my thumb past his skin to make him bleed worse.

“She thinks she’s sleeping on the couch,” I said, gesturing to Dakota as Micah carefully set her back on her feet.

“You’re not sleeping on the fucking couch. I’ll do it.” Micah shook his head. “Go upstairs. You need rest.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I stood at the edge of the rug, unsure of exactly what I was supposed to do. Did Micah realize why she’d wanted to sleep on the couch? So I could stay the night here, too? Was he actually agreeable to me sleeping here after what’d happened earlier?

It didn’t feel desirable for me to stay here seeing as the three of us would be separated, and I wasn’t getting Dakota either way—but at least my presence would keep them apart. If I left, they’d both sleep in his bed. He’d probably fuck her all sleepy and sweet and perfect, then tuck her in and hold her the entire night.

Yeah, fuck that.

I didn’t wait for him to give me permission before I headed upstairs and into the guest room. If he didn’t want me here, he could drag me out. Dakota was close behind me…with Micah close behind her. I fought not to roll my eyes.

But he stuck to the plan, only putting her in bed before retreating back downstairs. When I focused, I could hear him adjusting on the couch, hear the sounds of the leather under his weight.

The couch where Dakota blew me in front of him. The couch I’d been sitting on when we jerked off while watching each other. The couch I wiped my cum on, then licked it off of. The couch I’d been bent over the back of and fucked until I saw stars. There was a lot of shit going on with Micah’s furniture.

Sleep came faster than I expected, closing in over my thoughts like an unavoidable blanket, silencing all my anxieties with its heaviness.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

DAKOTA

My eyes cracked open slowly, my head already aching like a rubber band had been mercilessly wrapped around my skull. I rolled over, stretching my legs between the sheets, then paused. Micah wasn’t in bed.

Right.

Because I made him sleep on the couch.

All the memories of last night came rushing back in a terrible, overwhelming wave, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut again. Mason stealing me out of Micah’s bed in the middle of the night and forcing me into his car. Our screaming match while he drove too fast. Me threatening to wreck the car or jump out myself. My admission that I would never be whole without both of them.

And then, coming back to Micah’s house and insisting that all three of us sleep here separated.

I wasn’t entirely convinced last night would’ve played out the same way had it not occurred after Mason roused me from a dead sleep. Especially not while I was already sleep deprived and insane and anxious about the upcoming holiday. But in some twisted way, I was glad it’d happened.

I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and try to freshen myself up a bit. My eyes were still slightly puffy from crying, but it wasn’t too noticeable.