CHAPTER 14—DAMIAN
***
Kellan: Thanks for the save, man. I owe you one.
Damian: Anytime, brother. We all have demons. Call if you need to talk.
I DRAG MY ASS OUT OF bed for an early morning call with my therapist, my mind still reeling from last night's events with Kellan and the late-night planning session with Maddie. As I lace up my running shoes, the therapist's words echo in my head.
"Damian, we've talked about your anger, your need for control. But what about the flip side? What connections are you avoiding? What dreams are you afraid to chase?"
I'd grunted something noncommittal, but she wasn't done. "And what about your parents' interview? That email they sent asking to meet - how do you feel about that?"
Too many feelings. That's how.
Now I'm pounding the pavement along Swans Cove's promenade, trying to work through the mental shitstorm she stirred up. Sweat trickles down my back despite the chill, each breath burning in my lungs.
I'm so lost in my head I almost eat pavement tripping over a fat bunny sprawled across the path.
"Goddamn bunny!" A guy with hair redder than a fire engine is glaring at the furball. He's rocking sweatpants with a buttoned-down shirt that probably cost more than my monthly protein shake budget, topped off with... Santa slippers? Really?
"Liam!" I call out, recognizing Aisling's brother. "Bunny giving you trouble?"
"I need this little escape artist to stay put for five minutes," he grumbles.
Right. Liam. The guy who found out he's been a dad for over a decade without knowing it. Talk about life throwing you a curveball.
Before I can respond, a high-pitched voice cuts through the morning air. "Dad! Did you find him?"
A girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, comes tearing down the path, her eyes locked on the bunny. Right behind her is Sophie, the new teacher in town, trying to keep up.
The kid skids to a stop and scoops up the bunny, hugging it close. "Mr. Rabbit! You can't keep running away like that."
Liam's face... It's like someone flipped a switch. All the frustration melts away, replaced by something I can't quite name. But it reminds me of how I feel when I'm with the shelter dogs, especially the older ones. That sense of purpose, of being needed.
I watch Liam fumble through a pat on his kid's shoulder. Shit, it's like looking in a funhouse mirror of my past - those first awkward days with Mom after she took me in. All that uncertainty, the constant fear of screwing everything up.
But look at the guy now. He's stumbling through it, yeah, but he's showing up. And that kid? She's got stars in her eyes for her old man, ridiculous Santa slippers and all.
A memory flashes through my mind - Maddie's face lighting up as we planned the "Silver Paws" segment for the Adopt-a-thon. That same mix of excitement and uncertainty I'm seeing in Liam now.
Sophie catches up, slightly out of breath. Her eyes meet mine over the heads of Liam and his kid, and there's a softness there that makes my chest tighten.
The realization creeps up on me, not sudden but a slow-building ache. This feeling - it's not just in my head. It's a physical longing, a desire for connection I've been pushing away for too long.
This. This is what my therapist was talking about. The connections I've been avoiding. The experiences I've been missing out on.
Letting someone in.
For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like. To have someone look at me the way Sophie's looking at Liam. To hold someone close and know they're mine to protect, to... love? The word feels foreign, terrifying, but not as impossible as it once did.
I think about Maddie, about her passion for the shelter, her determination to make a difference. About how she challenges me, pushes me to be better. How she sees past my gruff exterior to the man underneath.
Maybe it's not about finding the perfect setup. Maybe it's about the people you choose to let in, the family you build along the way.
The thought of Maddie leaving to chase her dreams still twists my gut, but... maybe it doesn't have to mean goodbye. Maybe I could support her, be there for her. After all, distance doesn't have to mean abandonment.
As I watch Liam with his newfound family, I make a decision. It's time to stop running. From my feelings, from the possibility of a future. But my parents? That's a whole other ballgame. Their email asking to meet still sits in my inbox, a ticking time bomb of emotions I'm not ready to defuse.
I shake my head, trying to clear it. One step at a time. Right now, I've got work: admin, meetings, and one slow and steady class to teach. But first, a shower. I smell like a locker room and regret.
As I approach our building, that Christmas tree in the entrance catches my eye. It's listing to one side again, ornaments clinging on for dear life. Maddie's handiwork, of course. She'd put it up with such precision, double-checking every angle like it was a Pulitzer-worthy piece. Knowing her, she probably thought it was perfect.
I've been ignoring it for days, telling myself it's not my problem. But maybe it is. Maybe fixing small things is how you start tackling the big ones.
With a grunt, I crouch down next to the tree. It takes some doing - the base is solid, I'll give her that, but it's not quite level - but after a few minutes of adjusting, the tree stands straight and proud.
I step back, surveying my handiwork. It's not perfect, but it's stable. As I adjust a few ornaments, I can't help but think about Maddie. About how she might leave after the contest, chasing her next big story across the globe for a year.
The thought still twists my gut, but... fuck it. Even if she goes, it doesn't have to be the end of... whatever this is between us. If there even is a this. People do this shit all the time, right? Not that I'm planning anything. Just... considering possibilities.
Shaking my head at where my mind's wandering, I head upstairs for that shower. I wonder if Maddie will notice the fixed tree. Will she know it was me? Will she care?
And why the hell am I spending so much time thinking about her reaction?
I guess that's one more thing to add to the growing list of shit I need to figure out. But for now, I've got posters to deliver, work, and dogs to help. The rest? Well, that'll have to wait.
At least until after the Adopt-a-thon. One clusterfuck at a time.
AFTER BUSTING MY ASS all day at the gym, I head to the library, a folder of dog portraits weighing heavy in my backpack. These old dogs need homes, and the more people who see their faces, the better our chances at the Adopt-a-thon.
As I push through the doors, the scent of old books and lemon polish hits me. A gaggle of wide-eyed kids crowd around someone in a Santa suit, hanging on his every word. I nod at Mrs. Johnson behind the counter, sliding the folder across to her.
"Thanks, Damian," she says with a smile. "Oh, and that book you wanted? It's back on the shelves. XB section."
I grunt my thanks and head down the aisle, my mind already on the Darbi Kane novel I've been itching to read.
As I round the corner into the XB aisle, I spot her before she sees me. Maddie's there, reaching for a book, her curls wild and untamed. She looks beat, dark circles under her eyes that even her makeup can't hide. Fuck. She's been up all night answering those shitty comments, hasn't she?
My jaw clenches, thinking about all the crap she's been dealing with. For what? Sending the wrong letter? Making one mistake? It's bullshit, and I hate that she's losing sleep over it.
"Need a hand there, Peach-y?" The words rumble out of me, rougher than I intended.
Maddie startles, nearly dropping an armful of books. My eyes catch on the titles – "Ride A Cowboy" (I volunteer even though I'm not a cowboy – where do I sign up for a rodeo?) sandwiched between "Serial Killers Through the Years" and some F1 romance by Andie Christopher. Her gaze meets mine, and for a second, I see the exhaustion there before she covers it with a smile.
"Hey, Bitey," she says, her voice a little raspy. "Thanks for fixing that Christmas tree downstairs. It's not doing the drunken lean anymore."
I shrug, aiming for nonchalant. "Couldn't let it fall on some unsuspecting caroler."
She chuckles, the sound warming something in my chest. "Well, it reminds me of what my therapist says about working on myself. Sometimes you need a little outside help to stand up straight."
"Your therapist and my therapist must be having lunch together. I heard something similar."
We both reach for the same book on the top shelf – the new Darby Kane I've been eyeing. Our fingers brush, and I swear I feel a jolt of electricity. Maddie's eyes widen, and for a moment, we're frozen.
"You read Darby?" she asks, breaking the silence.
I nod. "Yeah, The Last Invitation had me on my toes. Listened to the audiobook and it was fucking great."
Maddie's face lights up. "Me too.. And I've read Pretty Little Wife , too. The twists and turns! Different note, but did you read The Last Patient? Oh and The Only One Left by Riley Sager?"
Before I know it, we're deep in conversation, swapping theories and favorite plot twists. As we walk, still chatting, we stumble upon a display of historic yearbooks. Maddie's eyes catch on one from the '90s, and she lets out a soft laugh.
Her finger hovers over a photo, and she goes still. "Middle school was the worst," she says, barely above a whisper.
I wait, giving her space to continue or not.
"I was always trying so hard," she says finally, her voice tight. "Easy target."
Something in my chest clenches. I think of the Maddie I know - sharp, confident, takes no shit. Hard to imagine her as a target.
"I'm sorry. It sucks," I offer. It's not much, but it's true.
She snorts, a sound caught between a laugh and something darker. "Yeah, well. I learned quick. If I was perfect, they couldn't touch me."
The bitterness in her voice makes me want to do something to ease it. I want to say something, anything, but the words stick in my throat.
Maddie shakes her head, like she's shaking off the memory. "Anyway, by high school I had it down. Miss Perfect. The Ice Princess."
"You're not ice," I say, the words coming out rougher than I meant. I clear my throat. "You're... I don't know. Lava, maybe. Hot. Dangerous. Unstoppable."
For a second, I think I've fucked up. Then Maddie's lips twitch, and she lets out a real laugh, breaking the tension.
"Lava, huh?" she says, shaking her head. "That's a new one." Maddie's eyes light up suddenly. "You know, this gives me an idea for the Adopt-a-thon."
I raise an eyebrow. "What, we're going to read old yearbooks on air?"
What if we showcase the shelter's history? Get previous adopters to call in, share updates and funny stories?"
I consider it, intrigued. "Not bad. Could fill time, keep it local. People love that stuff."
"Exactly!" Maddie grins. "We still need to nail down the schedule though."
"Yeah," I nod, suddenly aware of how close we're standing. "I've got that Santa Pet Pictures thing at the shelter tomorrow. Swing by and we can finalize everything?"
"Sounds perfect," she says, her voice softer now. "I'll be there."
As we stand there, the air between us shifts. Maddie's backed up against the bookshelf, and I find myself leaning in, one hand braced on the shelf above her head. We're not touching, but I can feel the heat radiating off her body.
My eyes lock onto hers, and for a moment, everything else fades away. It's just us, breathing the same air, tension crackling like electricity. I'm hyper-aware of every little detail - the way her chest rises and falls with each breath, the slight part of her lips, the faint flush creeping up her neck.
A memory flashes through my mind - our bodies tangled together, skin on skin, the taste of her on my lips. It was explosive, fueled by pent-up anger and frustration. But this? This is different. Slower. More intense, somehow.
Slowly, deliberately, I lean in closer. Maddie's eyes widen, but she doesn't move away. I pause, my lips just inches from her cheek. I can smell her shampoo, feel the warmth of her skin. My heart's pounding so hard I'm sure she can hear it.
When I press my lips to her cheek, it's soft, lingering—loaded with everything I'm too afraid to say.
It's not an innocent kiss, not by a long shot. I feel her sharp intake of breath, the slight tremble that runs through her body. My own body responds, heat pooling low in my gut.
I let my lips brush against her skin as I move towards her ear. "See you tomorrow, Peach-y," I murmur, my voice low and rough.
As I pull back, I catch her expression - eyes dark with want, lips slightly parted. If anyone walked by right now, they'd think we were up to something a hell of a lot more scandalous than a simple kiss on the cheek.
I force myself to step back, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. The space between us feels charged, like the air before a storm.
Maddie swallows hard, her voice a little shaky when she responds, "Tomorrow."
I turn and walk away, my body thrumming with unresolved tension. It was just a kiss on the cheek. So why does it feel like I just ran a marathon?
As I push through the library doors, a realization crashes over me. I don't just want her body. I want all of her - her laugh, her thoughts, her dreams. And that terrifies me.
Getting close means being vulnerable, risking pain. I've spent years building walls to avoid exactly that. Part of me wants to run, to push Maddie away before she can get too close. It'd be easier, safer.
But I'm tired of playing it safe.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. I've been doing the work, facing my shit in therapy, trying to be better. But there are still demons I need to confront. That interview with my bio parents, the email asking to meet - I can't keep avoiding that shit if I want to move forward.
The thought of Maddie leaving after the contest twists something in my gut. Time's running out, and I know it. And yes it doesn't have to mean the end of something that still needs to kind of maybe start. But rushing in. dragging all my baggage along? That's not fair to her. Or to me.
As I step out into the cool air, I feel a familiar surge of determination. I've faced down worse odds before. If I can survive what life's thrown at me so far, I can handle this too.
Tomorrow can't come soon enough. Not just to see Maddie, but to start facing those demons head-on. Because the more I know her, the more I know: she's worth fighting for.