Page 179 of Breathe Like Hell

In her expression, I could see the unsaid words. There is no typical birthday thing, because my birthday is typically overlooked.

But I was determined to change the way she felt about this day, erase the anxiety and pervasive sadness, make her feel special.

The light from the candles was soft on her face, making her cheeks glow, showing the slight glisten in her eyes.

22

“Make a wish, baby,” I said, brushing my fingers over her forearm.

“I already did,” she whispered, then blew out her candles, little ribbons of smoke drifting off the black wicks as she wiped her eyes. Micah took the candles out of the cake, then offered them to Dakota so she could lick pink icing off the bottom of each one while he got a knife.

He returned and cut a slice for each of us, sliding a plate across the table to me before sitting down. We both watched Dakota expectantly, waiting for the birthday girl to take the first bite. A little laugh escaped her as her eyes bounced back and forth between us.

“Both of you look like dogs waiting for a command.” She giggled, stabbing the cake with her fork. “Go. Eat.”

A grin lifted the corner of my mouth, and I took my own bite as Dakota chewed.

“This is actually good,” she said through a mouthful of cake and icing.

“Why do you say actually good?” I tilted my head. “You don’t assume me capable of making some icing?”

“Honestly, no.” Another small laugh broke free of her lips. It was the most beautiful sound in existence. I loved her laughter, loved her smiles, loved everything about her. I could perfectly remember the first time she’d really smiled for me, which was also the night I first fucked her—though the smile and the sex didn’t happen simultaneously. It was when I was dragging her out to my car, trying to kiss her all over, too obsessed with her for her own safety.

I’d never really seen her smile so freely like that before then.

Even now, it was rare. There was always a slight downward tilt at the corners of her mouth, a bit of lingering anxiety in her expression, a sadness in her eyes, nervousness in the press of her lips. I wanted to fix all of it.

But I knew I couldn’t.

Every time I’d made her hate me flashed in my mind. A gun in my hand, her head under the water, a screaming match in the car.

I shoved those memories away, ignoring how Micah’s eyes flashed to my face at the feeling of my panic spiking.

There was little more than the sound of forks on plates until the three of us finished our slices of cake. I brought the plates to the sink while Micah disappeared into his office to get our presents for her.

“I said I didn’t want any presents!” Dakota exclaimed as Micah came back into the kitchen, a tiny bit of panic in her voice.

“It’s just two,” I reassured her. “One from each of us.”

Micah set his own down first—a neatly wrapped box.

Dakota eyed him warily while carefully sliding her finger under the edges of the wrapping paper, but I could see the little frown on the edges of her lips, her small vulnerability shining through. She got the box open and peered inside.

Every single one of Lana Del Rey’s albums on cassette tapes.

“For the truck,” Micah said. Dakota looked up at him with more tears in her eyes and I knew what she wanted to tell him, knew exactly what three words she wished she could say but was refraining out of fear it’d make him push her away.

I love you.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I love it.”

I had to look back down at my own wrapped gift to ease the ache in my throat.

“Here,” I offered while handing her the gift bag.

She tugged out the wads of tissue paper, letting them drift down onto the table.

The gift was one of those small portable photo printers that connected to your phone.