Page 269 of Breathe Like Hell

“Your punishment was living with that knowledge on your own,” he bit out. “You don’t get to tell her to assuage your guilt.”

“That’s not what I was doing!”

“That is exactly what you were doing, Mason. If you only wanted to protect her, you should’ve let her go. But you can’t bear to think about actually doing what’s best for her, what will keep her safe, so you tell her truths that aren’t yours to share.”

“I barely told her anything. I wanted her to leave me.”

“You knew she wouldn’t.”

“I fucked up! What do you want me to say? I’m sorry, Micah. I obviously would’ve kept it to myself if I thought you’d ever be back. But I just needed⁠—”

“To be honest, I don’t give a shit about what you needed. That wasn’t your pain to share. Is that all you said?”

“I didn’t mention a word about Heaven. That doesn’t have anything to do with me, and I wasn’t telling her because of you. I told her because of me. I told her to leave. She might know anyway, but that’s not because I said a word about it. She’s perceptive enough to understand you.”

“You—” He cut himself off, both of us noticing in the same instant that Dakota was now awake. Micah’s lips pressed together and he exhaled sharply through his nose. We listened to her footsteps darting panicked down the hallway, racing down the stairs, stopping at the entrance to the kitchen.

Dakota instantly burst into tears when she saw Micah, and he pushed his chair back so she could climb onto his lap, tucked up into a little crying ball while he held her. He stroked his hand down the back of her head, gripping her low back with the other to keep her body pressed to his bare torso.

“I’m still here,” he murmured.

She was crying too hard to answer him, all her words lost to strangled gasps and choking sobs, her arms wrapped tight around his neck and her face shoved against his stained skin. His eyes slid shut and his throat bobbed when he swallowed, his exhales trembling slightly.

They belonged together.

And I felt like the person who’d accidentally wandered into someone else’s miracle.

I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d still need me at all anymore.

She had him back, and he was better for her than I was; his death had proved that—as if I hadn’t known it already. You’re a terrible person.

She’d been the one to bring him home. What had I ever done except lose him? What had I ever done except hurt her? What could I possibly give either of them that they couldn’t find better in each other? I used to think I understood Dakota better than he did. I didn’t think that anymore.

I thought I was fucking stupid.

Dakota sat back to look at Micah’s face, his thumbs wiping her tears.

She traced the tip of her pointer finger along one of the inked lines stretching across his chest, her gaze falling to his body.

“Does it hurt?” she breathed.

“Not too bad.”

“Are they going to go away?”

“I’d have to assume they will fade, but I don’t know for sure. This is new to me.”

“Do you know what happened? Why you are back?” Dakota sniffled. She hadn’t looked at me once since arriving downstairs. She was the center of my universe, but Micah was the center of hers. This truth had been a long time coming. I’d pushed it off as far as I could, but no more.

“I don’t know anything, baby girl.” His voice was low, his eyebrows pulled together as he stared at all her beautiful features. Teary eyes, flushed cheeks, runny nose, sad mouth. “I don’t have any memories. From the moment of my death until the second you hugged me in the forest, there’s nothing. And I don’t know what caused me to come back to you.”

“I’m scared this isn’t real,” she whispered.

“It’s real,” he reassured her.

Neither of them were paying attention to me or reaching into my mind, but the fact that both of them could made me uneasy. I couldn’t hide from either of them.

“Wait,” Dakota said before hopping off his lap and running upstairs. She returned a minute later with her phone, then climbed back onto Micah’s lap, straddling him. She held her phone up to take a picture.