Page 22 of Feathers From the Sky

My guest chuckles as Hale leaves, and Zuul bounds into the room, demanding pets and bacon.

“Zuul, calm,” I order. But Roman is scratching him behind his ears and looking at me for permission to feed the dog some bacon. “Just one,” I caution and watch as Roman makes my big baby sit before being given his reward. “I’m surprised he didn’t bark at you. He barks at literally everything and everyone.” I munch on the bacon and make a sound of delight. He made it the perfect amount of crispy.

Roman shoots me a strange look before he showers more attention on Zuul. “Dogs love me,” he says, a magnanimous grin spreading across his face. “I think he would’ve snuggled with me on your couch if you didn’t insist on him coming to bed with you. I gotta admit, I was a bit jealous of him.”

“In my state?” I laugh. “Nothing to be jealous of.” He’s silent as he eats his food, and I rush to fill that void. “I’m sorry. I really try not to drink that much.”

“Don’t be sorry. You had a reason for it.I’msorry about your job.”

He watches me, and I wonder what he sees. Does he see a woman who teeters on the edge of her sanity? Does he see a woman who does everything she can to not feel without the taint of intoxication? I have found different ways to cope the past year, and I prefer this over how it started. I prefer this over what caused Josh to leave. I prefer this over matted hair which Hale painstakingly combed out whenever I let him. I prefer this over the dread of brushing my teeth or showering. This existence is far more palatable than the fugue state I lived in before we sold Mom and Dad’s house. I made a promise to myself when Hale and I moved in together: I wouldn’t ever let this place see me like that.

But sometimes I wonder just how close I am to sliding back into that hell.

“Well, I suppose it’s been fun,” I say. His eyes narrow, and I am jealous of the way his dark lashes gently caress his skin. “I told you I’d fuck it up.”

He laughs and takes a drink of his water. “I’m surprised you remember that. It will take more than a little drunkenness to get rid of me,” he assures me. I feel my smile grow, but when I remember it’s only a matter of time, I bite my lip to smother it.

“Does this count as one of our dates then?” I ask, forcing myself to quit thinking.

“The ride home and breakfast this morning? Sure, I’ll count it. That means we’re on number three,” he says, and his foot nudges mine beneath the table.

“Well, my calendar is open for the foreseeable future. You free today?” I ask, pushing my bare toes up his ankle, and I’m surprised by myself.

Hale’s door slams open, and he’s only in a towel. His golden curls are a tangled mess, and he looks shocked. “Karma,” he says, before grinning widely. “Karma!” he shouts before showing me his phone from across the room, as if I can see it.

“What?” I demand, laughing at him.

“Josh’s fucking house burnt down!” he shouts, and I feel my mouth fall open. “When they came to put the fire out, he was outside, holding Alexa’s cat.” Hale laughs, almost maniacally. “He was covered in scratches and cat piss because he wouldn’t let it go. He’s being evaluated at a psych hospital.”

I don’t know how I feel about his glee over someone’s mental breakdown. Joshisan asshole though.

“Was Alexa home? Is she alright?” I ask, angry that I care at all about my former friend. “The baby?”

“She’s fine. She’s the one who made the post about it.” Hale is laughing as he turns back into his room to finish getting ready. “I’m going to comment on it.”

“She doesn’t have you blocked?”

“Not on my burner account,” he says before the door shuts. Roman chuckles as I exhale a long breath.

Roman’s plate is empty, and he watches me with a careful neutrality. The tattoos on his hands look darker in the fluorescent light of my kitchen. The snake on his right arm is deadly and distracting, undulating its way across skin toughened by the sun, but his other arm is far more intriguing. Covered in greenery with a few sparse flowers, his left arm paints a stark contrast.

“Maybe the devil came to collect early,” he says, a sly grin raising his lips.

“Just a little preview of what he has to look forward to?” I suggest, suppressing a laugh. Though I don’t delight in other people’s misfortunes, I think in this instance, it’s forgivable. I wonder how soon after he told his aunt about my photos that his house erupted in flames. I hope it was instant.

Roman nods before he unfolds himself from the table, rinsing our dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. I watch the way his shirt pulls taut over his wide back, and the domestic picture he paints is fucking dangerous.

“What are you doing today?”

“I’m off, so I’m all yours,” he says, turning to face me as he leans back on the counter.

“I was thinking about going on a hike. My normal hiking buddy is out of commission to nurse a sprained leg.” I nod toward Zuul, who is sniffing the entire kitchen floor for a hint of bacon. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah, Gwyn,” he says, a soft smile on his face. “I want to.”

8

ROMAN

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