CHAPTER 22—DAMIAN
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The Happy Bonnie and Clyde are coming back... and they're looking for their son. Let's find him.
SHIT. I'M STILL IN this damn werewolf costume. Looks like I'll be prowling Ocean City like I'm auditioning for "Santa's Sexy Werewolf" - not exactly the Christmas card image I had in mind.
At a red light, I can't help but steal glances at Maddie. She's bent over her notebook, all furrowed brow and nibbled lip, jotting down ideas. My fingers itch to trace that crease between her eyes, to feel if her skin is as soft as it looks.
"Uncle Damian?" Ava's voice pipes up, yanking me back to reality. "Why do you keep looking at Princess Maddie? Is there cinabutts on her face?"
I nearly choke. "Cina-what now?"
"Cinabutts," Ava says, as if I'm the clueless one. “You know, the yummy spice Mommy puts in hot chocolate. Daddy Sandro says it's cinnamon, but I like cinabutts better. I used to call Cinammon buns like that. When I was little."
“Little?”
“When Mommy met Daddy Sandro.”
“So, less than a year go.”
“Yes, little,” Ava says like I’m the one not making sense. And I guess, she’s eight, now.
Maddie looks up, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yes, Damian," she purrs, her voice doing things to me that definitely aren't PG, "is there cinabutts on my face?"
Heat blazes up my neck, and this furry costume feels way too warm. "No cinabutts," I grunt, trying to ignore how her lips curl around the ridiculous word. "Just... making sure you're not getting carsick."
Maddie's eyebrow arches, and damn if that isn't sexy as hell. "Oh really? How thoughtful of you, Bitey."
We pull up to the Ocean City event, and holy reindeer, it's a Christmas explosion. Grant wasn't kidding about going all out. There are celebrity cardboard cutouts wearing Santa hats, professional photographers snapping away, and more tinsel than an elf factory.
"Wow," Maddie breathes, her eyes wide. In the twinkling lights, she looks like a Christmas angel.
Ava tugs on my furry sleeve, nearly yanking off one of my fake paws. "Uncle Damian, look! They have a Santa's Workshop where kids can make toys for the shelter animals!"
I exchange a glance with Maddie, who's trying and failing to suppress a grin. "That's actually a pretty good idea," she admits. "Though I'm not sure how the kids will react to a werewolf in Santa's Workshop."
"Hey, maybe I'm one of Santa's furrier helpers," I growl playfully, surprising myself.
Maddie laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out. "Oh yes, I'm sure you're at the top of Mrs. Claus's naughty list, Bitey."
We spend the next hour exploring the event, taking notes and snapping pictures—while we wait for Grant who's been delayed in a meeting. Maddie's in full journalist mode, and I'm trying not to trip over my own tail. More than one kid points and giggles at my costume, but Maddie's appreciative glances make it almost worth it.
As we're checking out the virtual fostering program, I overhear two volunteers stressing over a database problem. Without thinking, I step in.
"Excuse me," I say, trying to look authoritative despite the furry ears poking out of my Santa hat. "I couldn't help but overhear. I might be able to help with that database issue."
The volunteers exchange bemused glances, clearly trying to reconcile the offer of tech support from a man in a werewolf costume. But desperation wins out, and the next thing I know, I'm hunched over a laptop, Maddie peering over my shoulder.
"I didn't know you were a tech whiz," Maddie murmurs. "Is there anything this big bad wolf can't do?"
I shrug, trying to play it cool despite the shivers running down my spine. "Just picked up a few things over the years at the shelter and they're using the same program we do. Turns out, even werewolves need to stay current with technology."
"You're pretty amazing, you know that?" she says quietly. "A tech genius wrapped in fur and tinsel. Who knew?"
For a second, I'm thrown off balance by her words, warmth spreading through my chest despite the chill in the air. But then I spot them over her shoulder, and it's like someone's dumped a bucket of ice water down my back. My muscles lock up, every instinct screaming at me to run.
Maddie's smile fades, her brow furrowing. "Damian? What's wrong?"
I open my mouth, but the words stick in my throat. That's when Ava bounds up, arms full of handmade toys, oblivious to the shit storm brewing. "Look what I made for our shelter animals!" she chirps.
I try to smile, but my face feels frozen. The world narrows, sounds muffling like I've been dunked underwater. My chest tightens, each breath a struggle.
Maddie's hand finds mine, warm and grounding. "What's going on?" she asks, voice low and worried.
I force the words out, tasting bile. "My parents," I grunt. "My parents are here."
The admission hangs there, heavy with years of pain and abandonment. As if on cue, Ava's voice cuts through the fog. "Uncle Grant!" she calls out to the man in a suit nearby.
This day just went from Hallmark movie to horror show in ten seconds flat.
I'm rooted to the spot, unable to move. It feels like my heart's been ripped out and tossed somewhere along the boardwalk, leaving a gaping hole in my chest.
Maddie squeezes my hand. "Can I go see him?" Ava asks, practically vibrating with excitement.
I vaguely register Maddie asking Grant to keep an eye on Ava, her voice tight with concern. Part of me feels guilty for ruining Ava's day, but I can't focus on that now. Not with them standing right there, acting like the past twenty-three years never happened
When Maddie returns, her presence anchors me enough to speak. The words tumble out, raw and painful. "They left me on Christmas Day. On my birthday." I swallow hard, the memory bitter on my tongue. "I was eight. They left a fucking letter. That I could read. Telling whoever was going to find me that I was cute—but difficult."
I pause, the weight of what I'm about to say crushing down on me. "And the worst part?" My voice cracks. "Remember that dog I told you about?"
"Your first dog?" Maddie prompts gently.
I nod, feeling like I might shatter. "That one... Pan. they kept him. I had a cat, too. Lightning. That I had to leave behind." The betrayal burns anew, as fresh as it was all those years ago. "Before abandoning them too. A few months later."
I take a shaky breath, forcing myself to continue. "My mom - the only one who's truly been a mother to me - she ended up finding them for me when I moved in with her."
The admission hangs between us, years of hurt and abandonment laid bare. I feel exposed, vulnerable in a way I haven't allowed myself to be in years. But as Maddie's hand tightens around mine, I know I'm not facing this alone anymore.
My eyes dart through the crowd, every muscle in my body tense. I know they saw me. Their gazes burned into me like branding irons, marking me as theirs all over again. Bile rises in my throat.
"Do you want to leave?" Maddie's voice cuts through the roaring in my ears.
I clench my jaw, forcing down the urge to bolt. "No," I growl. "We're here to chat with Grant—get introduced to the marketing director of this event. Help the shelters." The words taste like ash in my mouth, but I've got a job to do. I won't let them derail that. Not again.
But as we push through the throng towards Grant, her voice slices through the air. Poisoned honey, dripping with fake sweetness. "Oh honey, it's him. It's really him."
My head snaps up. There she is, phone aimed at my face like a weapon. My stomach lurches as I realize she's recording, like I'm some prop in her feel-good Christmas special.
"We found him," she coos into the camera. "Our lost boy, we found him again. Thank you to everyone who helped. It's a true Christmas miracle."
Miracle? Is that what she calls abandoning an eight-year-old kid on Christmas Day? On his birthday? Because, really, he started being too loud, not as docile during your big dreams of robbing banks after years of petty theft?
My fists clench at my sides, and I'm counting all the reasons in my mind why I shouldn't lose my shit right here on the boardwalk.