Offering the dead a final service is a good thing. Taking on their faults and failings, whether for real or only in my imagination, not so much.
It’s fair to say that my family history fucked me up. I don’t blame my parents—much—but their plan failed. It’s time for me to figure out my own way of coping with the gifts I inherited.
I repeat that to myself about seven times before my phone buzzes, letting me know Damon is downstairs, and a couple more times before he knocks on the door.
Then he’s there, in my apartment. He puts his arms around me, dragging me against his body, and leans in for the kiss we couldn’t have in the Brew. My knees go weak but his hand on the back of my head holds me upright. His cheeks are cold from his walk, he smells like soap and man, and the scruff on his chin rubs against me.Delicious.
I open for him, my lips and my soul, and his strength grounds me. Our tongues play against each other, finding our way. He tastes so good. I want more. I want it all, and that fucking terrifies me.
I break the kiss with a gasp, terrified I’ll start babbling nonsense and he’ll take off running. “Lemme get you a beer,” I manage.
He rests his forehead against mine. “A beer would be good.”
“Do you have to work tomorrow?”
“Yeah, unless I feel a fever coming on.”
We grin at each other. “I’ll give you a fever, Big D.”
“You already do, baby.”
Spinning out of his arms, I head for the kitchen and come back with a beer and a seltzer water. That’s the other thing. Geordi says I use whiskey to suppress my power, to keep it in the box labeledsin eater, so I should stay sober until I can use it in a healthier way.
Which sucks, but it does make sense, so I’m trying. For now, anyway. At least until he and Micah turn out to be assholes. Then I’ma drink myself into a coma.
I take his coat and replace it with a beer. “Go sit. I’m going to put the pork in the oven.”
“Pork? I was thinking we’d do Uber Eats or something.”
Laughing at his surprised expression, I wave at the dining table and duck back into the kitchen. This time, I bring a little plate of appetizers I’d prepped earlier, bacon-wrapped water chestnuts and mini skewers with tomatoes, peppers, and chunks of spicy sausage.
“Here. Eat.” I set the apps on the table and take the seat next to him. “You’re hungry.”
“I am,” he says, sounding halfway between surprised and amazed. He pauses while reaching for one of the skewers. “You didn’t need to do all of this.”
My cheeks go hot and I focus on the flickering candles. “Yeah, I did. You’ve always been honest with me and I couldn’t tell you everything.” My mouth goes dry, because this is the tricky part. “I still can’t. I mean, I physically can’t say the words.”
He puts the end of the skewer in his mouth, pulling off the tomato on the end, which comes across as dirtier than the circumstances call for.
I babble on, wishing I could whet my mouth with whiskey. “Micah and Geordi were right, though, and I’m sorry I didn’t try to tell you more before that.”
He’s working a chunk of sausage off the skewer with his fingers. I want to lick them clean. “If I repeat what they called you, is that a problem?”
A buzz sounds from the kitchen. “The oven must be hot enough. Hold that thought.” I jump out of my seat, totally not avoiding the conversation. I put the pork in and set the timer, doing my best to slow down my breathing. Both Geordi and Micah have called me a sin eater to my face, and it went okay, but I’m not sure how I’ll react hearing it from Damon.
Plastering on a perky smile, I head out to face the man I want to be with.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I blink. “What?”
“Why are you smiling like that?”
I drop into my seat. “I’m happy to see you?”
He pops another chunk of sausage in his mouth, chews and swallows. “You’re Ezra. You’re not the happy-smile type.”
My face relaxes into something closer to my normal bitchy grin. “So where were we?”
