Page 166 of Breathe Like Hell

But every time I tried to remind myself of those things, I reminded myself just as strongly that I was the cause of him leaving. I’d been too much for him. Too much to handle, too much to hold, too much to keep loving.

The same thing would happen with Dakota eventually. She’d leave me for all the same reasons.

Unless I could change.

Her back rose and fell with her steady breaths, her lips softly parted, eyelashes dark on her cheeks. I couldn’t stop staring at her. She was the most precious thing on Earth and in Heaven alike. I wished I was better for her, wished I’d been better to her, wished a million different things regarding Dakota, but things would always be hard for us.

Even if she liked it, she deserved better.

I was wrong for letting myself treat her the way I did.

Am I capable of changing that? Can I make myself into a better person for her?

Micah moved closer to her and propped his head up on his elbow, staring down at her face while he brushed his thumb along her arm. Heart in my throat, I glanced over at him. He met my stare, an infinite number of unspoken words lingering in his blue eyes.

A + K

Ash and Kill.

We used to be something, and now we weren’t. Not really. Not outside of her.

I looked down, tracing Dakota’s hairline with the pad of my index finger, then along her neck and shoulder. She was my whole fucking world, the only pocket of goodness in my life, and I was wrecking her.

It was so quiet in the bedroom, so dark.

Micah’s eyes caught on mine again, a painful yet familiar understanding passing between us.

We both loved the same girl.

And she was everything.

Dakota Masters was more of an angel than either of us could’ve ever been. Sleeping, dreaming, so vulnerable and trusting as she laid between us, her body curled up small.

My fingers traced over her shoulder and down her arm, my chest aching. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and I wanted to die for all the ways I’d hurt her. I knew Micah felt the same way when he made eye contact with me.

Neither of us treated her the way she deserved. Being known by Micah didn’t mean you’d get to know him. I could see that in their relationship, see the distance he enforced with every bit of his strength. I knew how that felt, too.

Slowly I dragged my touch down, and Micah dragged his touch up, and our fingers barely brushed together. But both of us were mostly touching her. Touching each other through her.

I swallowed against the ache in my throat. We were both watching the silent connection, our hands on her body together. His was so warm, so gentle.

For a final time, I looked over at Micah’s face.

He looked back.

Neither of us spoke. We didn’t want to wake her.

But I knew I wouldn’t have had any words for him even if she wasn’t here.

Not the sort of words I should’ve had.

I had no idea how I was supposed to convey every painful emotion wrecking my mind. All the love I had for him that I’d bled out of my body over years, that I’d ripped out of myself because hating him was easier than missing him.

He was staring at me like it killed him to do it, but like looking away would kill him even faster. We were both dead men, no matter how this played out.

His face was gorgeous in the dark. And there was a softness to him now, something he’d only developed for her.

Nothing had ever filled the hole he’d left inside of me, the dark chasm, the piece of my soul he’d carved out.