Chapter 24 The Dandelion
THE DANDELION
EMERY
It’s a beautiful day. Almost too beautiful.
The sun shines down on us, the warm rays of light kissing our skin.
Birds chirp in the distance, carrying the whispers of an impending spring.
Tree leaves rustle in the gentle wind, and it smells like new beginnings.
But for Damon, today is an end. Today is the closing of a chapter, of an entire book.
As we approach the cemetery, I reach for Damon’s hand but he subtly jerks away from me, halting before the imposing iron gates.
I flick my gaze to Quinton, and we exchange a look of mutual empathy.
Maybe if there are no more words to read, no more sentences to dissect, no more pages to bookmark and dwell on, maybe then Damon can move on.
Move forward. Look at the future, not the past. Maybe after today, when she’s finally laid to rest, Damon can hear her words, accept her forgiveness, and hopefully, find his own.
Damon stares at the gates of the graveyard, his expression cold and hard. And it’s like his whole body is frozen, stuck on this side of the story—a tale that needs to end.
“Why don’t you go ahead and see if the pastor needs anything?” I say to Quin, who nods and gently squeezes Damon’s shoulder before heading through the gates.
Damon remains unresponsive, closed off as his hands clench in and out of tight, white-knuckled fists. I take a tentative step toward him, positioning myself by his side, close enough that he can reach out and touch me, use me for support, but not so close that I’m encroaching on his space.
“You don’t have to stand here with me,” he finally says, clipped and broken.
“I know I don’t have to.” I keep my gaze focused on the monuments, on the statues, on the headstones in the distance. “I’m choosing to stand here with you. We can stand here for hours if you wish. We booked the pastor for the entire day. There’s no rush.”
Long, charged minutes pass as we stand silently together, only the whistling of wind interrupting the quiet.
Pollen floats around us, riding the waves of wind and air.
I follow the dispersing seeds of dandelions as they dance, seeking new homes, new earth on which to grow.
I’ve always liked dandelions. They’re such resilient little weeds.
It’s a common misconception that dandelions are lawn killers.
Most homeowners panic and run straight to their weed whackers when they encounter the sprouting buds of a dandelion.
But that’s untrue. Dandelions fertilize the soil.
Make it rich. Make it more hospitable for plants and vegetables and trees.
A dandelion seed lands on Damon’s shoulder, and I smile, letting it rest on the fabric of his black suit.
Damon thinks his grief is a weed. That it needs to be pulled.
That it’s destroying his life. But he, too, is wrong.
His grief, while traumatic, allows for other emotions to find a home in his heart.
Like love. His love for his parents. His love for his sister.
His love for me. For this baby. For Quin. And his love for Alison.
Damon breaks the silence, voice distant and pondering. “I wonder what kind of life she would’ve had if she didn’t die.”
I swallow, banishing the thought that my entire life’s trajectory would be different given his implied narrative. But it’s not about me. Not now. Even though I know that if she didn’t die, I would have.
“She said she had all these goals…” Damon trails off. “She never told me what they were. I-I never really asked. I should’ve asked her.”
He’s quiet again, and I realize I’m not required to reply, to comment. I’m simply here to listen, no matter how difficult the story is to hear.
“I bet Quin asked,” he says, jaw clenching.
“Quin would’ve asked. He… I think he loved her more than I did.
He-He accepted her just as she was. But I…
There was always something I tried to fix in her.
Something I tried to hide.” Damon slowly cranes his neck toward me, acknowledging me for the first time.
His tone is flat and matter-of-fact as he reveals, “She was a stripper. Did we ever tell you that? When we first met her? She danced at Lux.”
Alison’s heart rattles between my lungs, but the sensation coursing through my veins isn’t one of shock or surprise but of peace, understanding. Charles mentioned she was an exotic dancer. It all makes sense. Everything that happened makes perfect sense.
All I can do is nod.
Damon looks away from me again, gaze locked on the swaying trees in the distance. “It’s all my fault, you know?”
“Damon—”
He holds up his hand, shaking his head. “Don’t.
I need this, Emery. I need to tell you the truth.
At least, I think it’s the truth.” A ripple cascades down the length of his throat.
“I’ve been telling the lie for so long that I’m not even sure I know the whole truth anymore.
But I-I know it’s my fault. Losing her. Every single time.
I lost her. And it was my fault.” He pauses, teeth clenched.
“And I blamed him. Every single fucking time, I blamed him. But it was never his fault. He never betrayed me. He… I don’t understand how he can even look at me.
I don’t understand how he could be in the same room as me after everything I’ve done. ”
I slip my hands into the pockets of my jacket, anxiously twisting the fraying fabric of the internal hem. He’s talking about Quin. He’s… He’s telling me what happened. He’s telling himself. Perhaps for the first time.
“We met her at the same time at Lux,” he begins, refusing to look at me.
“He noticed her first. But I was there. God, she was beautiful. Black hair, blue eyes. And the way she looked at us, we knew immediately that she’d be ours.
We used to share back then. Never anything serious, but we’d have fun.
I didn’t think I would fall for her, not as hard as I did, but it happened.
Quin fell too. It was a disaster. Fucking the same person is one thing but loving them? Completely different ballpark.”
My stomach twists, and I want to disappear, but I can’t. He’s opening up. Talking. I can’t shut him down. I can’t run away no matter how uncomfortable I feel. This woman gave me my life back. And so I stand and listen to all of Damon’s regrets.
“Alison was smart, almost conniving. I knew she liked us both, but Quin was always a bit too gentle for her. She liked it rough, she liked the drama, the fights. She loved the highs, not so much the lows.” He takes a breath.
“So, eventually, I gave her an ultimatum. It’s either me or him, and if she picks him, then I no longer exist. I will no longer be an option for her, no matter what happens.
I told her she’d be dead to me.” He expels a self-deprecating chuckle.
“So, she picked me, and our relationship was exactly how you’d expect it to be—totally chaotic.
As time passed, I started thinking more and more about settling down and having kids.
My parents… My parents didn’t like the idea of Alison as my person.
They didn’t think she was worthy of the Cavanaugh name. I mean, she was a stripper, right?”
I look down at my feet.
“One night we got into a fight at a restaurant. She basically said she didn’t want kids. I said some dumb shit, and she ended it with me. Guess where she went?”
“To Quin?” I whisper.
“I was so fucking angry. I couldn’t believe it. And then in less than six months, they were engaged.” He scoffs. “Fucking engaged, Emery. So…you know what happened then.” He releases a low sigh, closing his eyes. “Christ, I was a monster. He loved her, he truly loved her, and I ruined it for them.”
“But you loved her too, Damon.”
His eyes spring open, and he whips his head at me, tone dripping with disdain.
“He proposed to her, Emery. He proposed to her and told his family and friends about her. He wasn’t ashamed of her past. And he didn’t hide her from the media.
But I did. And I didn’t hide her because I wanted to keep her safe.
I hid her because I didn’t want the world to know I fell in love with a stripper. ”
My mouth gapes open. “Damon…”
“Fuck, that’s horrible to say out loud, isn’t it?
” He winces, shaking his head. “I-I promised her the world, Emery. I promised her I’d change for her.
Be a better man.” His lip twitches. “But I couldn’t even bring her to my father’s birthday dinner.
I was so afraid of what everyone would say.
And she left. That night. Again. She left, and I drank, and then…
And then she died. I-I killed her. So…” He faces me, his gaze sweeping across my flustered face.
“Being loved by me never leads to anything good.”
My pulse races as I process everything he’s said. Every emotion. Every ounce of hatred. So much hate. And it’s only directed at one person—himself.
“Now you know the whole truth, Emery,” he whispers, glancing down at my belly.
“Now you know I’m not a good person. This baby…
” His eyes well up. “You should raise this child with Quin. He-He’d be a great father.
He’s honest and kind and forgiving. He’s not a monster.
” Tears trickle down his cheeks. “But I am… I’m-I’m going to hell.
I—” His knees give out, and he sinks onto the gravel floor.
He drops his face into his hands. “I can’t do this, Emery.
I can’t be here. I don’t deserve to be here. ”
There’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing I can say.
No words will soothe him. No amount of ‘I love yous’ will help him right now.
I take a step forward and wrap my hands around his neck.
He rests his forehead against my stomach and simply sobs, soaking the fabric of my black dress.
He cries until the well is dry. He cries until there’s nothing left.
He cries until the weight is lifted, and he’s no longer trapped on the ground.
He peers up at me through damp, dark lashes, expression tight, embarrassed. “I’m ready.”
I frown, stroking the back of his head. “Are you sure? We can postpone—”
“No.” He rises to his feet and dusts off his pants. “Now.” He turns around and marches into the cemetery, not waiting for me.
I rub my pulsing temples as I quickly follow behind him toward the Cavanaugh family plot. As we round the corner, an additional pair of footsteps sound behind me and I turn around to find Quinton emerging from the restrooms.
He lifts a brow. “Is everything alright?”
“No,” I pant, putting a hand on my hip. “Damon’s definitely not alright. He told me everything that happened with Alison. The real story, and then he—”
Quin frowns, placing a hand on my back. “Hey, breathe, okay? Slow, deep breaths.” He mimics the rhythm and I follow. “Yes, just like that. Good.”
“Then he ran inside,” I finish, using Quin for support as I subtly lean on him.
“I-I don’t know what to do. Every time I think we’ve made progress, he just shuts down again.
It’s like a roller coaster, Quin. I…” It hurts to even think this, but…
“I think he might leave us. I genuinely think he might just…run.”
Quin’s face falls as he rubs small circles on my back.
“He needs to heal, Emery. He’s… He’s got so much pain and hurt to work through.
It’s not going to be linear, it never is.
But I don't think there's anything you or I can do. I know I’ve said that before, but it’s true.
All we can do is support him and hope that he doesn’t think he’s a lost cause. ”
I swallow, staring at the back of Damon’s head as he approaches the pastor and shakes his hand. “But what if he does, Quin? What if he does think he’s a lost cause? What then?”
Quin shrugs. “I-I don’t know, Emery. I’m sorry. I wish I did.”
I won’t let him get lost. I won’t let him fade away into the darkness. Not now. Not anymore. Not when I’ve seen how joyous the light can be. He can stay here with me. With us.
“Let’s go.” I grab Quin’s hand. “He needs us right now.” Before taking a step, I look up at him and smile. “You’re a good man for forgiving Damon. Most people wouldn’t.”
“I had something worth forgiving him for, Emery.” He cups my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin. “I’d forgive the devil himself if that’s what it took to be with you.”
“Do you ever regret it?”
He shakes his head, kissing my temple. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”
If I could absolve Damon, I would. If I could save him, I would.
Please don’t leave.
Please.