CHAPTER 8—DAMIAN
***
Shelter group chat: Should we add garlic in the rooms?
I've always loved Twilight. Do you twinkle in the sun, Damian?
"IT'S AN IMPORTANT QUESTION : Do you twinkle in the sun?" Alessandro chuckles as we settle into our booth at Liquid Assets. The text is still fresh on my phone's display. "Actually, don't answer that. I want to finish listening to Maddie's podcast episode."
He turns up the volume on his phone, and Maddie's voice fills our headphones, somehow cutting through the tinny Christmas music playing overhead. Her article has definitely made waves, and this podcast episode? It grabs me by the throat.
She starts off funny, with a "Dear Santa, I swear I'm organized. Please don't put me on the naughty list." But then her tone shifts, becoming more serious, more... Maddie.
"It's hard to be seen. Really seen during the holiday season," her throaty voice explains. "And sometimes, well, despite loving Christmas, watching the Christmas movies, loving making people smile. It can still be lonely."
Her words hit me harder than I'd like to admit. I find myself leaning in, hanging on every word.
"Those comments you all have been leaving on the letter before we took it off? The funny ones? The ones offering support and light to others? Well, they made my day. Especially seeing as some are still quoting from it and tagging me with reasons it made them smile. I mean, yes, some may not be the positive ones I love to read, but this isn't my first viral rodeo as you know. And well, I've seen worse. P.S: keep the funny ones coming. Love them. And keep spreading joy, to share your random acts of kindness. You never know how they might snowball."
As she wraps up the episode, I realize I've been holding my breath. "So, Dear Santa, thank you. And I'll be back with new letters and another podcast episode soon. Thank you for listening, Swans Cove. And world."
The episode ends, and I'm left staring at my untouched drink, Maddie's words echoing in my head. My gaze zeroes in on the outside. You can't see the beach from here, but I know what's behind the buildings.
Ocean City in winter's got its own charm. The crashing waves, the fog rolling in - it's like the beach is giving everyone the finger. But solitude? Not in the cards today. Especially with Liquid Assets decked out like Santa's workshop threw up all over it. Tinsel everywhere, a sad-looking plastic tree in the corner, and "Jingle Bell Rock" playing for what feels like the millionth time. Christ.
"Still playing lovesick teenager with your fiancée?" I grunt at Alessandro. He's been nursing the same damn beer for an hour, phone glued to his hand. The others haven't come in yet. As always they're going to trickle in like they've got all the time in the world.
"Says Maddie's traded hot chocolate for Bailey's," he smirks. "Something about Ava spilling the beans on a certain vampire."
I groan, scrubbing a hand over my face. Maddie and Christmas are becoming as intertwined in my mind as... well, as I'd like to be with her. Damn it.
Did I hate my mom emailing about garlic? And Imani's gif of Nosferatu? Not as much as I thought.
And knowing Maddie's still replaying our moments, same as me? That she's aching for more? Well, shit. Turns this clusterfuck into something... different. Something that makes my blood run hot and my chest tight.
"You haven't been going over the bridge to Annapolis and Severna Park since she moved in," Alessandro notes. "Just saying."
"Been busy." I take another swig of my beer, not telling him that ever since I've touched Maddie, heard her moans, I can't think about touching anyone else. I let the bitter taste wash away the memories. But Maddie's throaty laughter echoes in my mind. I feel the urge to text her, to say something that might make her smile. Maybe even ask about her laundry schedule, just so I can run into her in that stuffy room decorated with our Post-its, like it's all by chance.
My hand hovers over my phone, but then I catch myself. What the hell am I thinking? I shove the phone into my pocket, forcing myself to remember why I can't let her get too close. Some ghosts you can't outrun, no matter how hard you try. And the last thing I need is to add another to the list
Luckily, Jeremy, Micah and Kellan stroll in like they own the joint right at this moment—even though I know Jeremy's been wrestling with nightmares for years now. And Kellan? He's been busting his ass trying to get research funding for a more affordable "bionic leg" as he calls it.
Micah's wearing the ugliest Christmas sweater I've ever seen, complete with blinking lights. "What?" he says, catching my stare. "It's for the kids at the VA Christmas party."
"Remind me why we're meeting in a bar?" Kellan grunts. He hasn't touched a drop in years.
"Because they serve the best non-alcoholic Christmas Mojito your dry ass will ever taste," Alessandro shoots back. "Tastes like candy canes and regret. Plus, Zoe had to postpone the meeting until 8pm. And the room in the Carousel isn't open until then."
"Can't believe Zoe's still doing this shit for us," Kellan mutters, shaking his head.
Alessandro gives him a look that could cut glass. "I can."
We all know Zoe and Kellan had... something. Something Kellan refuses to acknowledge because the stubborn bastard thinks he was better before. Before the leg, before the nightmares, before all this shit.
"We all agreed to teach each other something. Remind each other we have something to offer." Alessandro pauses. "Like Damian can tell us all about vampires. And Bram Stoker." He gives me his shit-eating grin, before adding. "Or he can teach us how he's been helping dogs feel more secure in the adoption room. And what he's learned in his online business class. Zoe is doing this with us—because she's one of us, too."
"Plus, our group therapist is meeting us there right after our painting to debrief on what we painted," I add.
Alessandro inhales deeply. "We got this."
"We got this," Jeremy says, his voice serious as a heart attack. Then the fucker pulls out a garlic necklace from his bag and drapes it around his neck like he's auditioning for Van Helsing. "Merry Christmas, Damian. May it ward off vampires and unwanted holiday cheer."
Alessandro barks out a laugh, and Jeremy? He's practically pissing himself, wheezing so hard I'm worried he might keel over.
"You've got to be shitting me," I groan, but I can feel the tension in my shoulders easing up.
We knock around some balls on the pool table, talking shit and dodging the real issues. Micah mentions the toy drive we're doing for the shelter kids, and for a moment, I think about Maddie and her ideas for the shelter. How we could brainstorm something together. How I—
My phone beeps, cutting off that train of thought. As soon as I see her name, I step away from the table.
"Man, we're not done playing," Kellan grumbles, but I barely hear him.
"I think it's Miss Vampire herself," Jeremy chimes in, his voice teasing.
I ignore them, swiping to read Maddie's text. "I was thinking a Christmas Adopt-A-Thon," it says. And then another: "Also... hi."
"Oh, he's bitten hard. Or did he get bitten?" Alessandro jokes, but I can hear the knowing tone in his voice.
I turn away, fighting the smile threatening to break out on my face. "Sounds peachy," I text back. Then, after a moment's hesitation: "Hey."
So what if I wonder if my text has her flushing and maybe smiling, too?
"Let's go!" Jeremy calls and we pay our tab, cross the road to one of the Carousel's meeting rooms and as we settle in for our session with Zoe, ready to pour what's left of our battered hearts onto canvas, I let myself breathe. Just for a moment.
These assholes might be idiots, but they're my idiots. And they understand what it's like to keep everyone at arm's length, to fear letting anyone get too close because the closer they get, the more it hurts when they leave. And the impulse to see Maddie smile, to be one of the reasons she smiles? It may mean she's already too close.
Zoe clears her throat as we all dip our brushes into the paint. "We may have all bonded over PTSD but we actually like each other, too. This version of us. Now, who wants to paint some holiday trauma?"
And I do.
But the trauma I don't paint? That's the one that haunts me most. The one that started long before my time as a Navy SEAL, back when Christmas meant something different. Back when it was about more than lights and presents—it was about family. About warmth, love, and a sense of belonging. Back before everything changed, before I learned how fragile those things really are. The real reason I hate Christmas? It's a reminder of everything I lost, everything I'll never get back. And that's something I don't talk about—except with my own therapist and sometimes my mom.
AS WE PULL INTO SWANS Cove, I tell myself the only reason I'm dropping by Alessandro's is to make sure Maddie doesn't need a ride home. But deep down, I know it's more than that. I'm drawn to her, to the way she sometimes sees me in that laundry room, not just as the brooding guy next door but as someone worth knowing.
Plus, in the weirdest Christmas gift exchange ever after our painting and therapy sessions, Alessandro got a massive poster of "101 Rom-Coms to Watch Before Next Christmas" The thing's so big it could double as a sail for a small yacht. And of course, he's insisting we hang it up tonight.
"You know," Alessandro says, grinning like he's been doing more often since we moved to Swans Cove. Since he's been with Aisling. "This is totally a meet-cute moment. You, showing up unexpectedly...Maddie not realizing she was waiting for you."
"Shut it," I growl, but those images aren't sending me running. "I'm just being neighborly."
"Sure, sure," he chuckles. "Like Hugh Grant was "just being neighborly" in Notting Hill."
I shake my head, but as we step into their house, the warmth and scent of vanilla and cinnamon envelop me. Then I see her: Maddie, laughing so hard she's got tears streaming down her face, flour dusting her cheeks and hair like fresh snow. She's attempting to bake cookies with Aisling, and it's a disaster in the best way possible.
There's flour everywhere, coating every surface like a winter wonderland gone wrong. Ava's rolling on the floor, her giggles mixing with the excited barks of the dogs. The chaos is a stark contrast to the peaceful silent night outside.
"So not Silent Night around here," Alessandro grumbles, but there's a smile in his voice. He wraps his arms around Aisling, pulling her close for a soft kiss. She sighs, melting into him, and I force myself to look away. That kind of intimacy... it sets off alarms deep in my chest.
Instead, my eyes lock with Maddie's. She's wearing a Michael Myers shirt, but the slasher's sporting a Christmas hat. My gaze trails lower, taking in the way her leggings hug every curve. There's no panty line, and the thought of what might be underneath has my mouth going dry and my jeans feeling suddenly too tight.
"Dad," Ava stage-whispers, tugging on Alessandro's sleeve. And pointing at me. "There's a vampire in the house."
Maddie's laughter cuts off abruptly. Her eyes drop to my lips, then lower, lingering on my chest before dipping and snapping back up quickly. A blush spreads across her cheeks, and she dissolves into giggles again, but there's a heat in her gaze that makes my pulse quicken.
"I... I need to go home," she says, her voice husky. She takes a step and wobbles slightly, and I'm moving before I even realize it.
"Let me walk you," I say, my voice rougher than I intended.
She and Aisling exchange a look I can't decipher, but right now, I don't care. I just want her safe. And if I'm honest with myself, I want a few more moments alone with her.
"Hmm-hmm," Maddie hums, and the sound goes straight through me.
"How about my poster?" Alessandro asks, breaking the tension.
"Tomorrow. Your poster can wait."
"But... Hugh Grant can't. I get it," he says with a knowing smirk.
As I guide Maddie out, my hand hovers at the small of her back, not quite touching but close enough to feel the heat radiating off her. For a split second, I want to close the gap, to let my hand rest there, to feel that connection. It's a simple gesture, but one that feels like it would mean too much. I can almost see her turning to me, smiling, maybe leaning into my touch. But then, just as quickly, I pull back. The cool night air hits us, a sharp contrast to the warmth inside, but it does nothing to cool the fire building between us. I keep my distance, reminding myself why I need to.
"What's that?" she asks, eyeing the small canvas in my hand. I painted two tonight. One big one for the fundraiser. And this little one.
When I show it to her, she freezes, then bursts into giggles. "Is that a peach with a crown?"
"Yep." Real eloquent, Damian.
"She's pretty," Maddie says, her voice soft.
"The most beautiful," I murmur before I can stop myself. We keep walking through Swans Cove, and I can't help but wonder if a third night together could maybe scratch this deep desire. This... attraction.
It can't be more anyways. I don't want more.
Plus, she's going to win that contest. And then she'll be gone, like almost everyone else who ever had a choice.
'Tis the fucking season, after all.