Chapter 7 #2
Before I can finish my question, he leans down, grabs my face in his hands, and crashes his lips to mine.
It takes me by surprise, considering how upset he was before, and in his mind, his father just came back from the dead.
I quickly melt into it, though, unable to deny how amazing it feels.
My skin comes alive, and the warmth that was already wading through my body spreads into my chest. He pulls back after a few moments, and I immediately hate the space.
The corner of his mouth curves into a faint smile, and I’m quick to match it.
“Hi,” he whispers while keeping his face just a few inches from mine.
“Hey,” I reply quietly.
“I’ve missed you.” His lashes flutter just a little as he looks into my eyes, and a hundred emotions hit me all at once.
I wasn’t sure that I would ever see him look at me that way again.
There was a real chance that I would never hear those words leave his mouth, but hearing them now almost steals my breath.
“I missed you, too…” I move my hand to cup his face, and the way he leans into my touch almost takes me out.
“Well, I’m going to go taunt our little guest. Yell for me when dinner’s ready.” Zeke smirks again and stands, but he doesn’t hold the same attitude this time. Damien turns his head and looks at him, but not enough to move my hand.
“Leave Victoria alone. She won’t be a problem,” he says confidently, and Zeke groans in disappointment.
I can’t lie, I’m also let down. Victoria deserves some type of repercussion for what she’s done.
I want her to suffer insurmountably, just like he has.
But for whatever reason, Damien doesn’t feel like it’s necessary—at least for now.
Zeke starts to step away, a little less excited than before, but Damien cuts back in, holding him back.
“Thanks for everything, Zeke,” he says softly, and Zeke’s face practically melts.
“Always, man.” He pats Damien’s shoulder and makes his way towards the stairs.
I start to scoot back on the couch, wanting to give Damien some room to sit, but he just kneels down beside me instead.
He leans over to wrap one arm around me, and his other hand moves over my belly in gentle swipes.
I’m not sure my heart can take it. I want to wrap my arms around him and hold onto him so tightly that he can’t ever leave my side again.
If I could, I would glue me to him to keep us in this position forever, but I can’t.
I need to let him move at his own pace. So, as much as I hate it, I refrain from acting like a complete psychopath.
His eyes lock on my stomach, and I try to keep the mood light when I speak.
“Your mom is making dinner. Are you hungry? We’ve got plenty of water, and—”
“I don’t want you to worry about me, I just…” He swallows harshly, like he has to steady himself. “I want to know about you. I need to know how you two are really doing.”
I rub his arm gently, hoping to help ease some of the aches I know are still in his muscles.
There’s a lot that we need to talk about, but I don’t want to overwhelm him.
As much as I’m sure he hates it, he’s fragile right now—both his mind and body.
I don’t want to potentially jeopardize his healing by making him too stressed.
“We’re okay, and the baby’s good—she’s great, actually,” I say truthfully, but his brows pinch together in confusion, like he doesn’t quite believe me.
“Then why are you on bed rest?” he asks accusingly, and I can’t help but sink into the couch a little further.
He doesn’t necessarily sound angry, but there’s a darkness to his voice I haven’t heard in a long time.
Did Victoria tell him while they were outside, or did he hear that news some other way?
Regardless of how he knows, it's put him on edge, and the only thing I can do now is try to ease his worries.
“Well, for a few different reasons. My blood pressure is a little high, and the doctor just wants to be cautious after the accident…”
His eyes snap over to me, and his pupils thin into small points.
“I thought you said you weren’t in the accident?” he asks frantically, and that darkness is quickly accompanied by anger.
“No, I was. I… I wasn’t in the Equinox, though. I was driving the Charger, following my car—”
“Why weren’t you driving the Equinox?”
Dread instantly fills my chest. I know where this conversation is going, and while it’s unavoidable, I was hoping to put it off a little longer.
The color must drain from my face, because the icy wave that flows over me makes the hair on my arms stand on end.
Damien instantly notices the look, and the worry lines on his face deepen.
“I was going to, because we had an appointment that day, but when we started it up, it sounded off. So, we were going to drop it off at Grease’s garage before we went to the hospital…”
His nose crinkles in confusion, and my throat tightens with fear before he even has the chance to process. I should’ve been more careful with what I said, and his next question pops into my mind prior to him even saying it out loud.
“Who’s we? Who was driving?”
I can’t lie to him. There’s no way to hide this.
He needs to know that he can trust us. Ezra’s death is still fresh in all of our minds, but it won’t hit anyone harder than it will Damien—this news will crush him.
He really liked Ezra, and they were almost as close as the rest of them are.
I know he’ll blame himself for this, somehow.
Worry gnaws at my bones, but I rub his arm a little more before I speak, hoping the soft touch will lessen the blow.
“Ezra was…” I whisper. “He didn’t want me driving it with it sounding like that…”
His throat clenches, and he freezes. The hand that was caressing my belly doesn’t even twitch now, and the light in his eyes starts to die out.
It’s obvious that he’s putting the pieces together, but I still can’t bring myself to say the words.
I should just say it. Isn’t that what they tell doctors—that unless they say it out loud, the victim’s loved ones won’t really understand?
Tears start to blur my vision, but I quickly blink them away, knowing that I need to be strong for him right now.
“Ezra died that day. I’m so sorry, baby…” Sorrow tears at my insides and my words shake, like I can’t steady myself. He shakes his head lightly and grits his teeth, fighting through the grief and anger rolling through him.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. None of this is your fault…” He goes back to staring at my belly and embraces it once again, making me feel even worse.
His eyes follow the movements of his hand, like he has to get lost in it to keep himself together.
A small tremor moves through his body, making him adjust his position on the floor, and I get that overwhelming urge to hold him again.
I go to move, so I can invite him onto the couch, but his grip around me tightens—letting me know that he wants to stay like this.
“I should’ve told someone where I was going.
.. You were just so upset that afternoon, and I wanted to surprise you.
I wanted to fix it…” He sniffles, and my gut twists in an almost violent way. “You never got your ice cream…”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” A small sob bubbles up in my throat, but thankfully, I think it passes for a chuckle.
“Hell yeah, it is. My princess and my queen wanted ice cream.” He tries to chuckle back, but it doesn’t quite reach a humorous tone. His gaze remains on my belly as he traces small circles over the fabric of my shirt, like he’s studying every inch of growth he’s missed.
“I'm so sorry we didn’t find you sooner…” I say softly.
“Ashia, please. It’s not—” The baby starts to move around once again, only this time, Damien jerks his hand away simultaneously, taking my breath away. His eyes widen and his mouth is slightly parted, like he’s afraid to move.
“Did you just feel that?” I ask breathlessly, and for a moment, I’m not sure he hears me.
He doesn’t move. His gaze remains locked on my stomach in wonder.
We stay completely still, long enough for me to think his brain short-circuited, before a new light falls over his features.
His mouth curls in the corner, and the blues in his eyes brighten up again, like he just witnessed a miracle.
“Fuck yeah, I did.” He adjusts his position, so both of his hands rest on my stomach, and he leans down so his lips barely graze the fabric of the shirt I’m wearing.
“Come on, baby girl, do that again.” We both wait in silence and stillness, not daring to move and potentially cause her to stop.
When she kicks another time, his eyebrows shoot up, showing me that he felt it a second time.
I almost can’t believe it. We’ve been waiting for this moment for what feels like forever, and to have him here, experiencing it with me, is surreal.
Endearment warms me as a soft gasp rushes in his mouth, and he slowly tilts his head up to meet my gaze, like he doesn’t want to move too quickly. “Have you felt her on the outside yet?”
I shake my head, and just when I think we’re making progress, my heart sinks.
He turns away, looking towards the other end of the couch.
His chest rises with a heavy breath, and I’m not sure why I’m so anxious about it.
Should I have felt it before? Is he worried that I did something wrong?
When he turns back to me, his eyes are filled with a mixture of joy and grief, and when a tear falls from them, my throat tightens.
“I didn’t miss it?” he whispers, and his question makes my stomach flip in the most agonizingly beautiful way.