Chapter 5 #2
“I can call him. We sent him home this morning to spend some time with Trina, but I’m sure he’ll—”
“Call him. Now. Zeke, where are the other guns?” Damien turns his attention back to my brother and asks.
His urgent tone worries me instantly. Serena gently moves the bottle of anti-anxiety medication from the sink to the kitchen island as she walks past, nonchalantly reminding me that they’re there if we need them.
I can’t help but narrow my eyes at her, not really appreciating the recollection, and she just waves quickly before slipping out.
Once she walks into the garage, I turn my attention back to Damien.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him softly and reach to grab his hand.
He squeezes my fingers with his, but he doesn’t look down at me yet.
It’s like he can’t convince himself to gaze in my direction, and it breaks my heart all over again.
He stares harshly at Zeke, like his entire life is hanging on his answer.
“They’re put up just like they were before, D. What do you want me to do?”
“Search the perimeter with me,” he demands in a crisp tone, and then turns back to Carter.
“I want an update on the security of the house. I don’t care if you and Kade have to meld your brains together to get it done, but I want it impenetrable.
No one enters the property without my knowledge from here on out.
I want cameras in the forest, around the fence line, and definitely up the back trail that’s going to lead to your new house, if you’ve already mapped it out. ”
“Yeah. I’ll see what I can do,” Carter replies confidently, but that’s not enough for Damien. His hand squeezes mine a little tighter, and his body tenses even more.
“That’s not good enough! Make it happen,” Damien demands a little more brutally this time, and I try to pull him closer. He doesn’t let himself budge, though, and I just get even more upset.
“Come sit down, baby. We should probably talk about a few things before you get too carried away.” I need to tell him about John. Victoria wasn’t even aware that he was still alive, so I know Damien doesn’t know either. They’ll be here any minute, and he doesn’t need this taking him by surprise.
“We can talk later,” he snips at me, and it shocks me a little.
So, I just close my mouth, not wanting to upset him.
Zeke narrows his eyes subtly, like he’s also trying to figure out where his head is before he speaks.
I turn my head to glare at Victoria as she walks inside, and thankfully after meeting my gaze, she continues to walk back upstairs.
Whatever he said to her outside clearly upset her, and even though I sound like a horrible person, I’m happy about it.
“We’ve been checking the outside, D. No one has been here, I promise,” Zeke says softly, like he’s trying to reassure him, but it clearly doesn’t work.
“It’s not enough!” Damien shouts, and it takes me by surprise. I can’t help but flinch a little as I look back over to him, and that’s when his attention finally snaps over to me. My eyes meet his, and I see the instant regret there, but then he turns and shakes his head.
My heart plummets when I see Leanne’s car pull into the driveway, and Damien freezes. His grip on my hand only gets tighter, and I move to rub his arm with my other hand, but then he pulls away and takes my heart with him.
“I’ll check the back,” he says sharply and storms off.
“Damien, just wait a second…” I try to stop him, but it’s no use. We all watch him walk to the back door. That sickening feeling returns tenfold, and now I’m not sure how this is going to go. Thankfully, he makes it outside just as Leanne and John walk in.
“Where is he?” John asks as he stomps inside, but it’s clear that he’s a little unsteady.
Bandages still cover his throat, and his skin remains that ghostly pale color, but he’s managing through it.
Leanne walks in with her arm wrapped around his as she tries to lead him over to the furniture, but he’s not having it.
He starts to walk towards the stairs, letting go of Leanne’s arm to push his way through.
I stand quickly and step in front of him, placing my hands on his chest to keep him from going up there.
Damien isn’t even there, and if he sees Victoria, he’ll kill her.
Hell, I still might.
“John, you need to calm down before you see him. He’s agitated right now,” I try to warn him. I don’t know what all Leanne told him, and I’m not sure she even knows most of what he’s been through since he’s been home.
“I don’t care. I need to see my son,” he demands.
“I know you do, but he thinks you’re dead,” I blurt out, and he comes to halt.
He looks down at me with that same sorrow I’ve only seen from him a few times.
There’s a good chance that if I don’t let him see Damien right now, he might just keel over.
“He was watching on a live feed when they shot you. I haven’t had the chance to talk to him about it yet, and he’s scared right now. We need to do this right.”
His gaze hardens, and he gently, but firmly, grips the tops of my arms in each hand. I can’t quite tell if it’s to intimidate me or steady himself, but either way, it’s working.
“Ashia,” he says sternly. “I love you. You are the best thing that could’ve happened to my son, but if you don’t get out of my way and let me see my boy, we’re going to have a very different relationship from here on out.”
I stare back at him, hating the raw emotions in his eyes.
He’s so desperate to see him—to heal him—that I’m not even sure if he knows what he’s asking.
Damien seems lucid enough, but I don’t know if he’s still hearing things or if he even believes what he sees.
His mind is so fragile right now. There are a thousand ways this could go, almost all of them ending badly, but John’s tightening grip on my shoulders tells me that he’s not taking no for an answer.
I just hope he understands the turmoil he’s putting them both in.
“He’s out back,” I whisper, and I almost hate myself for it.
John darts past me and storms off in the same direction Damien went, not wasting another second to see him.
Shockingly, Leanne doesn’t follow him. She watches him walk away with the rest of us, because even she knows not to intervene right now.
A part of me is glad, because I’m not sure Damien could handle her waterfall of tears that will inevitably happen when she sees him.
She steps up to me, and even though there are tears pooling in her bottom lids, I’m thankful she hasn’t unleashed them yet.
“This is contact information for a therapist. Her mentor counseled John and I after I was taken. I told her you would be calling.”
“Leanne, I don’t know if he’ll—”
“Make him,” she tells me in a short, clipped tone, like there’s no room for negotiation on this.
“He needs it. I may not know everything that happened, but I know that. She’s not exactly conventional, but I’m confident that she’ll be able to help him.
” I silently nod back at her and take the card, knowing that she’s probably right.
She looks towards the back door like she wants to go as well, but thankfully, she refrains. “Let me make you all dinner.”
“You don’t have to, Leanne. I was going to cook, but D wants me to check the property with him. Maybe that’ll help, and then I can after,” Zeke tells her, but she shakes her head.
“No, please. It’ll make me feel better. What should I make?”
I glance over at Zeke and notice the sad expression on his face.
He’s just as worried as I am, and I don’t miss how his eyes keep darting to the back door.
My heart clenches. I wish I was outside with him to help him through this.
A part of me isn’t sure if I should, though.
As much as I hate it, it seems that my presence isn’t helping Damien right now.
Perhaps John can get through to him in a way that I can’t.
I take a deep breath to steady myself before I focus back on Leanne.
“I think we were going to make steak and potatoes, so he gets a lot of carbs and iron. Pretty much anything that’s going to fill him up and help him gain some weight back.”
“Consider it done.” She lightly rubs my back and then turns to start in the kitchen.
I plop down and sink into the couch, rubbing my belly and trying to contain my tears as the baby continues to move.
We knew it was going to be difficult when he woke up, but I thought I would be able to help him.
He's pushing me away, though, and I can’t coddle him.
If I restrict him too much, he might feel like he’s still trapped.
I’m terrified that he’ll think he’s just traded one prison for another, and I don’t want to cage him in.
He'll be okay. He has to be. Once things settle down and his fight or flight reflex learns that he’s not in danger anymore, it’ll get better.
I have to find a way to help him relax without overwhelming him.
I’m not sure how I’ll do that, since he can barely look at me, but I’ll figure it out—no matter what it takes.