• 38
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This was not easy.
I had explained the lore.
The brothers.
The drama.
The emotional trauma.
I was halfway through passionately explaining why Damon was misunderstood and deserved grace when I realized something was wrong.
Very wrong.
I looked over.
Enzo was asleep. Freaking sleeping!
Head tipped back. One arm hanging off the couch. Mouth slightly open like this was the most boring documentary he'd ever been forced to sit through.
I stared at him in disbelief.
"You did not just fall asleep," I whispered. "Not during this episode."
I huffed, offended, and turned back to the screen, shoving another chip into my mouth.
Fine.
His loss.
I gasped quietly at an almost-kiss scene, leaning forward, then the elevator dinged.
I looked over.
My heart jumped before my brain even caught up.
The doors slid open, Nico stepped out.
My chest did that stupid thing it always did when I saw him. He looked so good. His messy hair, the tight button up, sleeves rolled up. Tattoos, muscles, the man was perfection. I got excited just looking at him.
He scanned the room immediately, eyes sharp, protective, before landing on me. His shoulders visibly relaxed, like they always did.
Then he frowned slightly, looking around.
"Where's Enzo?" he asked.
I pointed lazily toward the couch. "Sleeping. Right there."
Nico walked around the couch, took one look at Enzo passed out cold, and actually chuckled.
A real one.
"So this," he said dryly, "is the man who was supposed to keep you company."
I grinned. "Hey. He tried."
Nico glanced back at me. "Did he?"
"Well," I said, shrugging, "he did sit here for a while."
He shook his head, amused.
I stood up just as he reached me. He held his hand out without thinking.
I took it.
He pulled me up easily, and before I could stop myself, I wrapped my arms around his waist.
He looked at me for half a second.
Then his arms came around me, solid and warm.
"I missed you," I murmured.
"I know, I'm back now," he said quietly, kissing the top of my head.
I pulled back slightly, smiling. "By the way—Enzo brought me clothes. He's really sweet."
Nico's expression shifted.
Just a little.
"Sweet," he repeated.
"Yeah," I said. "He even brought snacks."
His jaw tightened.
"I could've done that."
I laughed rolling my eyes. "Nico, relax."
"I'm serious," he said. "I could get you better clothes. Way better. I could go right now."
I stared at him. "Are you crazy? I don't want better clothes. I like these."
He narrowed his eyes. "Then stop calling him sweet."
I rolled my eyes. "You're jealous."
"I'm not," he said immediately.
"You so are."
He sighed, pulling me closer again. "He's still an idiot."
I laughed softly, resting my head against his chest.
Behind us, Enzo snored.
Perfect timing.
Nico glanced at him once more and muttered, "Useless."
I giggled.
Their relationship was cute in a quiet way.
You could tell they loved each other, even if they'd never admit it out loud. They showed it in the way they always had each other's backs, the way they teased instead of saying anything soft, the way they smiled when they thought no one was looking.
I knew the kind of love it was.
Lizzy and I were the same, I'd do anything for her.
He took my hand again.
"Come on," Nico said softly.
He led me back into the bedroom. We didn't rush. We sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that our knees brushed, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him beside me.
His hand came up first, slow, careful, fingers sliding through my hair. His touch, sent warmth all over my body.
I had it twisted up in a loose bun, the way I always did when I didn't want to think about it too much.
He tilted his head, studying it.
"Daria," he said quietly.
"Yeah?"
His fingers found the tie holding it up. He hesitated, just for a second, like he was asking without words.
Then he gently pulled it free.
My hair fell around my shoulders in soft, unruly curls.
He raised a brow.
"...Your hair is curly," he said, almost to himself.
I felt my cheeks heat instantly. "Yeah," I said quickly. "I ... uh hate it."
He turned to me, brows knitting together. "You hate it?"
"I don't let people see it like this," I admitted, suddenly nervous. "I always straighten it. Or tie it up. It's messy and—"
"No," he said firmly, cutting me off.
I blinked.
His hand came up to my cheek, thumb brushing softly under my eye. He looked at me like he was seeing something precious he didn't know existed until now.
"It's beautiful," he said. "You're so beautiful like this."
I swallowed.
"I don't think anyone's ever said that," I whispered.
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. Then another, softer one into my hair.
"I don't even think I ever knew," he murmured. "But I love it. I think this is how you look most like yourself."
My chest tightened.
No one ever saw my curls. Not really. Not like this. Only Lizzy. Only home. I always hated it because it made me feel different.
And here he was, looking at me like I was the most beautiful thing in the room.
I smiled without meaning to. My eyes stung a little. Okay don't start crying Daria.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He smiled back, slow and soft. "You're welcome, my princess."
I leaned in and kissed him, gentle and grateful, like the moment deserved to be held carefully. He kissed back softly, I wanted more. I wanted him to toss me back on the bed, and just— wow when did I become so feral for him?
When we pulled back, his hand stayed at my cheek.
"You know you're mine, right?" he said quietly.
I didn't hesitate. "I'm all yours."
Something flickered in his eyes. Not heat this time. Something heavier.
He exhaled.
"Are you ready to face him?" he asked.
I knew what he meant.
My biological father.
Sean Doyle. Enzo said that was his name.
The man who had kidnapped me.
I nodded slowly. "I think I am."
He glanced at his watch. "We don't have to go right now."
"I want to," I said quickly. "I have courage right now. I don't think I'll have it later."
He searched my face, reading me the way he always did.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," I said. "Please. Let's go now."
After a long second, he nodded. "Okay."
I pulled on my hoodie, hands shaking just a little. I needed to get this over with.
He stood. "I'll wake Enzo."
He left the room, and I sat there alone for a moment, heart pounding.
I was about to face the man who had kidnapped me. The man who had hurt me. The man who shared my blood.
I took a deep breath.
And when Nico came back, I stood up, ready.
Not because I wasn't scared.
But because I wasn't alone anymore.