Chapter 14 Tallus #2
She licked his fingers, but Diem seemed far away, stuck inside his head, lost in those thoughts that had been taking him hostage lately.
The ones I couldn’t see. The finger-licking and doggy whines often meant Echo was checking in on her charge, but Diem didn’t break his trance or reassure her like he normally might.
I dug through a pile of change in the middle console, found a dated penny, and presented it to my boyfriend.
He blinked from his daze and frowned at the copper coin. “What is this?”
“A penny for your thoughts. You’re zoned out, and as much as I pride myself in being able to read your mind, it’s blocked. Kitty says when that happens that I’m not looking hard enough, but I swear, I’m looking, D, but that door is not letting me in. Open up.”
My clever humor didn’t even earn me a tiny smile, and he ignored the coin. “I’m just thinking.”
“I can see that. About?”
“Nothing.”
“You know that’s technically impossible, right? The brain can’t actually turn off. Even in sleep we think.”
He didn’t respond.
Diem had a lot going on. He had increased his therapy sessions with Dr. Peterson recently and was taking baby steps toward sobriety.
He had shared minimally about his AA meeting and lunch with Aslan, but Diem wasn’t a sharer on a good day, and those events were private.
My boyfriend tended to process at his own pace, in his own time, on his own level.
Pushing never worked, so I let it go and dropped the penny back in the coin collection.
When he dug a pack of Skittles from the glove box and crunched through the entire pack without sharing, I figured he was fighting cravings of one kind or another. I didn’t even give him shit for harboring snacks without my knowledge. I wasn’t a fan of Skittles.
I abandoned the thin profile and got lost in a text exchange with Memphis. My best friend was at work and as bored as me. He’d recently started dating Jeweler Joshua, whom I had met six months ago when a dying man in an alley gave us a mysterious playing card.
Memphis wasn’t keen on committed relationships, but after regularly landing in each other’s beds enough times, they finally decided to give dating a try. It was new, and Memphis needed a lot of coaching and reassurance. He was surprisingly insecure.
Every time a bus or streetcar rumbled by and stopped to let passengers off in front of our perp’s building, I glanced up, anticipating our target’s arrival.
Every time, he didn’t get off.
Diem became fidgety. He unearthed a pack of Starburst from somewhere and absently made his way through the entire pack. Again, he didn’t share, and I liked Starburst.
Then, the knee bouncing started. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He chewed through three pieces of gum.
By quarter after one, a parking space opened across the street from the brownstone. “D, go. Move. There.” I pointed.
“We’re fine.”
“No, we’re not. We’ll have a better view from there.”
“And two lanes of traffic to dodge if he suddenly appears.”
“Diem Krause. I will spend the rest of this stakeout talking about the new dating show I’m watching if you don’t move this vehicle. You promised.” And I needed new scenery, or I would gouge out my eyeballs.
Grumbling something under his breath, Diem started the Jeep and pulled into traffic, swinging around in a driveway a few car lengths down the block before returning and taking the available spot.
“Happy?”
“Yes. Can I still tell you about the show? It’s awesome.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
I sighed dramatically. “Fine, but there’s a guy named Francois, and he’s totally hot. He has a sexy accent, too.”
He didn’t respond.
We continued our surveillance in silence. The steady hum of traffic was having a soporific effect. Every time my eyelids dropped, I squirmed to wake myself up. Fuck this was boring.
As much as I loved the idea of a stakeout, it required far too much sitting still. I did my best, knowing Diem would note every wiggle and worm and use it against me in the future.
Memphis had gone quiet, so with nothing else to do, I stared at the building in question and tried not to move too much… or fall asleep.
Regardless, Diem must have sensed my struggle. The attention he was mindlessly giving Echo stopped, and he rested his hand on my knee instead, stroking gently with his thumb.
“Your dad called me this morning,” he said into the quiet, and I knew without asking that this was the thing he’d been stewing about all morning.
“Really?” I examined Diem’s face as he watched the building across the street, still seemingly far, far away. “How come?”
He worked the gum around his mouth, chewing absently as a knot appeared between his brows. “He invited me to go fishing in April. His buddy canceled.”
“Oh. Cool. That’s… good, right?” Diem looked like his execution date had been set, or he’d been drafted to go to war. “Are you going to go?”
He chewed and chewed and chewed his gum, never once meeting my eyes. Seconds ticked by. Knowing my boyfriend, the invitation made him leery. Perhaps confused. Kindness was a foreign concept for Diem. So few people in his life truly cared and loved him the way he deserved.
“I don’t know,” he muttered after a time. I could see the thousand-and-one excuses flowing through his brain. “It’s not really my thing. I’m not… It’s—”
“You should go. I think it is your thing. You just don’t know it yet. Heath has a heart of gold, D. He’s not asking out of pity. He’s seeking companionship. Friendship. You need more solid people in your life, and you would like fishing.”
“I don’t know the first thing about fishing. Besides, what the hell would we talk about? He doesn’t know me. Christ, if he did—”
“If he did, he would invite you anyway.”
Locating an old receipt, Diem discarded his gum, shaking his head. “I don’t fish.”
“It’s gross, but it’s not hard. It requires endless hours of sitting still and staring at a glassy lake, while waiting for a fish that might never show up. Conversation is optional. If you think about it, it’s much like a stakeout.”
A smirk curled the corner of Diem’s mouth. He shifted his attention from the building. “But didn’t you say you hated fishing?”
“I did, and I do. I suck at it. It’s sooo boring.”
“And yet you luv stakeouts.”
“Now, hang on. Before you point out the contradiction, I want to emphasize that there is an important difference between stakeouts and fishing. First off, a stakeout doesn’t require gutting and filleting a big catch when he shows up, and there are no mosquitoes or leeches or buzzing flies inside the Jeep.
We are protected from the elements. See? Stakeouts are way better.”
Humor danced in Diem’s eyes. “Yet they both involve long stretches of inactivity, minimal conversation, and staring at a point of interest until your eyes cross.”
“All true, but fishing is dreadfully boring, and stakeouts are way more badass, possibly resulting in fun interrogations and threats.”
“I’m convinced you could argue your way out of a life sentence.”
“Baby, if the mere idea of law school didn’t put me in a coma, I might have studied to become a lawyer. Arguing is my specialty.”
“You wouldn’t have survived all those lectures.”
“And the reading. My god. So. Much. Reading. We’re veering way off track.
The point is, I doubt Heath would expect you to share your whole life story.
He won’t care if you sit and say nothing.
He’s not like that. If you wanted to enjoy peace and quiet, he would be grateful simply to have your company. ”
“He wants to bond.”
“Yes, he does.”
“I don’t bond.”
“You bonded with me.”
“That’s different.”
“You bonded with Echo.”
“She’s a dog.” Diem swiped a hand over his mouth and eyed the pack of gum on the dash, but seemed to decide against another piece. Quieter, he mumbled, “He called me son.”
My heart ached at the uncertainty on Diem’s face.
It was such a simple thing, yet he couldn’t wrap his head around it.
“Because you’re mine, D. Heath sees how important you are to me, so he wants to know you.
He became my dad when I was seventeen. I’ll never forget the first time he called me son.
He’s letting you know that you’re part of the family now, too.
Unconditionally,” I added, because to Diem, love was always conditional.
If vulnerable had a face, it was Diem’s.
The words Father and Dad and Son were tainted in his mind.
I hoped one day he would see that a family didn’t have to be made up of those who shared your genes.
Not a lot of things scared Diem, but letting people in was one he struggled with.
After years of abuse and rejection, his trust in humanity was thin.
“I told him I would think about it.”
“That sounds fair.”
It was a start.
The lunch hour had come and gone, and at quarter past two, my tummy rumbled.
Diem chuckled. “Hungry?”
“Someone didn’t share his candy, and this is hunger-inducing work. I can’t believe you haven’t fed me yet.”
Peering down the street, Diem tugged a card from his wallet and motioned to a restaurant on the next corner. “I’ll have whatever you’re having. Also, stop in the Rexall and grab some more candy.”
“Does it help?”
He didn’t respond.
Accepting the card, I pursed my lips. “You know the action is one hundred percent going to happen the second I walk down the road and enter the restaurant, right?”
“Probably. We could always skip lunch.”
My tummy rumbled again, voicing its objection. “No can do. It’s a risk I’ll have to take.”
Luck was on my side.
By the time I returned with two orders of beer-battered fish and chips, a pack of peanut butter M&Ms, Junior Mints, and Lifesavers, Diem was in the same position he’d been all morning, absently staring at the building across the street as he stroked Echo’s fur, lost somewhere inside his head.
We ate.
Afternoon faded into evening. I was losing the will to live, but didn’t dare say so.
With rush hour came heavier traffic and an increase in pedestrians on the sidewalk.
Diem took Echo for a short walk so she could relieve herself, but he never strayed far.
She had shared a few of Diem’s fries earlier and chowed down on several crunchy dog biscuits, but sooner or later, we would need to abandon this futile stakeout and take her home for a proper meal.
The sun went down as the clock ticked close to seven.
A bus pulled up, and several people got off, scattering in every direction.
I’d reconnected with Memphis, and we were deep into an argument over our favorite contestants on the dating show Diem hadn’t wanted to discuss, so I was only paying half attention to the brownstone, no longer caring why we were there.
So, when Diem jolted upright and shouldered out the door with a, “Let’s go,” I scrambled to figure out what the heck was going on.
Then, I saw him. “Oh shit.”
The guy we’d been waiting for all day stood on the opposite side of the road, wearing the same hoodie and coat we’d seen in the video. He paused outside the building to light a cigarette, long dark bangs falling forward as he cupped his hands around the flame to block the wind.
Diem was halfway across the busy street, dodging cars and trucks, before I processed what was happening and undid my seat belt.
“Wait!” I cried.
He didn’t wait.
Echo chuffed from the back seat.
“I know. Rude much?”
She whined and whimpered.
“I don’t know. If he didn’t bring you, he must have had his reasons. Sit tight. We’ll be right back.”
I barreled from the Jeep but was stuck, unable to cross the street due to an influx of traffic zipping by at lightning speed and no opening in sight.
Whose idea was it to park over here? Diem had somehow made it to the other side.
I couldn’t hear him over the growl of engines, but whatever he said caught the kid’s attention.
The boy glanced over his shoulder and registered Diem. My boyfriend said something. The kid’s body stiffened. Without warning, he abandoned his cigarette and bolted down the sidewalk at a sprint.
“What the—”
Diem launched from the curb after him.
“Fuck.” Traffic hadn’t thinned, and if I played Frogger, I was sure to get hit. “Diem! Wait for me.”
He didn’t listen. He likely didn’t hear since he was half a block away.
“Goddammit.” Because I was a good boyfriend who always provided backup, I ran down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street, frantically hoping for a break in traffic so I could cross.
Luck was not on my side.
“Diem Krause.” I panted and nearly tripped twice as I weaved and dodged through a crowd gathered at a bus stop. “We… are having a long talk… about why I’m… the better choice… for chatting… with… fuck my life… people.”
I hit the corner as the light turned green in my favor. Despite burning lungs and a vehemence for all things cardio, I sped up. Diem and the kid outpaced me. Once I hit the other side of the street, they had gained too much distance, but I didn’t slow down.
When the kid darted around a corner, Diem followed, hot on his heels and gaining.
When I attempted to round the corner at a similar pace and with the same effortlessness, my loafer skidded on something wet, and I went down hard on my left side. A burst of pain shot through my hip, and I took the skin off my palm when I tried to break my fall.
“Motherfucker. That fucking hurt.”
I whimpered and whined, shaking the sting from my hand as I scrambled to my feet. Glancing down the street, convinced I’d lost them, I watched all one hundred and sixty pounds of Diem dive Hail Mary style at the fleeing Kael impostor and tackle him to the ground.
They hit with a thump and skidded with their combined momentum.
I winced sympathetically. The kid, who was close to my size, must have felt like a house had landed on him, but he was a fighter with stamina and youth on this side, and he didn’t give up. He bucked and kicked and squirmed and yelled.
Diem took an elbow to the ribs and another to the skull, then one to the face before losing his grip. The kid fought to escape, but Diem grabbed a fistful of his jacket and held him down.
Diem might have had a massive size advantage, but he wasn’t someone who would purposefully hurt another human being. Not anymore, which meant he needed me.
I was his backup. His calm, levelheadedness. His sidekick.
Limping, pain lancing through my ankle and hip, palm throbbing and skinned, I raced to catch up. Unlike Diem, I was not opposed to breaking a few fingers for compliance, and this kid was out of control.
“I’m coming. Wait for me.”