Page 104 of Breathe Like Hell

“Yeah. What do you want to know?” I balled up my wrapper and tossed it in the paper back sitting on the floor at Dakota’s feet.

“Anything.” She twisted to face me fully, sliding across the bench seat to be closer.

“There are two main parts to it—the place where angels live, and the place where human souls go after death. The part with human souls is more nebulous, and the part with angels is more similar to how cities are structured on Earth.”

“Can you go to both?”

“Yes. Most angels have to work in some way, and that’s usually with upkeep of the souls part. It’s called Nepenthe. The rest of Heaven is just Heaven, but the city where angels live is called Mount Olympus. I assume that name is familiar to you.”

“Yes. So, the angels they work by helping the souls get to Nepenthe?”

“Yeah, and other things like that.”

“Interesting.” Her eyes slid over to look out over the ocean again. I tugged her hood off her head so I could see her face better. Her hair was all wavy from being wet when she fell asleep. “I didn’t know there was a city.”

“Yeah. Angels have to live somewhere.” I shrugged.

“And what about God? You said God is real, but not how I think.”

“God is the name of the highest council in Heaven. It’s four archangels, not one person. Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel.”

“Wow.” She grinned, her cheeks pushing up with genuine joy. “This is so interesting. I always noticed that you and Mason still say God—like oh, my God—so I figured it was still a relevant thing. What’s the difference between an archangel and an angel?”

“Archangels are actually immortal. They won’t die, even if suffocated. They’re also capable of traveling between Earth and Heaven, but those travels are infrequent. There’s not much reason to be on Earth. And their wings are golden.”

“Why did you fall from Heaven if there’s not much reason to be on Earth? It seems like angels don’t just do that. Not unless you’re Thrausian and going to die anyway.”

“Some angels do just do that.”

“But not you. You wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because.”

“Okay. Well, I did.”

“How long ago?”

“I don’t remember exactly,” I lied. I knew how many years it’d been. “It was a while before you were born.”

She slid all the way across the seat to press herself against my side. “I want to know more.”

“Dakota, I don’t want to keep talking about this.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Something else. You.”

“Are you ever going to tell me anything about your life before me?”

I stared purposefully out the windshield, focusing on keeping my expression neutral. The air in the truck was too hot. She was too close. “I just did,” I said.

“You told me about Heaven, not about you.”

“And then I told you I don’t want to fucking talk about it,” I snapped. “Why the fuck don’t you ever listen to me?”

She pulled back, her lower lip twitching in a frown, her arms crossing over her stomach. “I do listen to you.”