Chapter twenty - two Damon
Chapter twenty-two
Damon
As is becoming commonplace these days, we’re a man short for our regular flag football game.
His twin, Noah, is stuck on set somewhere downtown, advocating for a client; I think Henry’s fiancée’s sister is working on the same movie.
Adam has to leave early to visit Maya’s parents in DC, while Cory showed up late sporting a hickey and looking quite pleased with himself.
After a rocky start, he and Denise are still going strong.
I grip the ball against my chest, continuing into the end zone, and sneak another glance at Cory’s bruised neck. I wish Kendra had left some marks; proof that last night wasn’t just my overactive, undersexed imagination playing tricks on me.
But no. Even without the bruises, I know last night happened. The scent of lemon verbena was all over me this morning, triggering vivid memories of her hands squeezing my hips, her mouth gasping in pleasure, and the quiver of her thighs as she came.
I adjust my shorts to hide my rapidly forming half-chub and pass the ball back to Henry.
I can’t help but think I made a mistake in leaving last night.
Kendra and I talked about it ahead of time.
We agreed it was one night only, since I want more than she’s willing to give.
The sex was fire. More than fire. I knew it would be.
And my heart tugged painfully, just like it did the first time we were together.
When I tricked myself into thinking her looks meant something.
That we were both feeling the same earth-shattering connection.
This time, I ignored those tugs and stuck with the plan.
I gave myself two minutes in the bathroom to freak out about the best sex of my life—the word transcendent comes to mind—then I slapped myself to clear my head, washed up, and walked out as agreed.
It took everything I had not to leave my jacket or tie behind so I’d have a reason to go back.
I didn’t miss the hurt that flashed across her face when I came out dressed, though. She was snuggled under that blanket, warm and inviting, and it had nearly killed me not to strip down again and spoon her from behind. But she didn’t want that…did she?
Cory runs up from the sideline and flicks my ear.
“Hey!” I shout, rubbing the tender skin. He just rolls his eyes.
“Hey nothing, Damon. You’ve been spacing out all game. What’s up?”
I punch him in the shoulder on the way to the bench, grumbling under my breath. Henry drops his arms to his sides with a slap.
“I guess we’re taking a water break?” he complains.
“If that’s the case, I’ll probably only have time for another play or two,” Adam says, sitting next to me on the bench.
Cory nudges me again.
“Spill. What’s got you so distracted?”
Should I tell them? These are my brothers. I love them more than anything. But they’ve got their own lives. Own wives! And my bullshit must seem like peanuts in comparison.
I take a swig from my water bottle.
“Nothing, man. Just thinking about the kids at Centerpoint. Carter and Robbie are—”
Adam interrupts me with a flick to my other ear, and I hiss out a curse.
“Would you guys quit it? We’re grown men!”
“Then act like it,” Adam demands, leveling me with a glare.
“First you were off because of things with the league. We get it; coming home is tough, and it takes a while to get adjusted. But you found a job, a good job where you get to work with kids to keep doing what you love. So why the fuck are you moping?”
I don’t appreciate being scolded by my baby brother, but he’s only the youngest on paper. He’s further along than any of us in relationship terms, though Henry isn’t far behind. I wonder how long until Cory pops the—
“He’s doing it again,” Cory says with a sigh. “Tuning us out in the middle of a conversation.” He turns to me. “Are you ADD, dude?”
“No,” I answer automatically, though I’ve never checked. Getting my bachelor’s like Dad demanded was damn near painful; I always preferred hands-on learning over being glued to a desk. Maybe I am ADD?
“I went out with Kendra last night,” I admit quietly.
Cory snorts and digs into the cooler for a Gatorade.
“Was it a real date this time, or are you two still making things unnecessarily complicated?”
Like a Rubik’s Cube. I can’t believe I ever thought things between us could be simple.
“Who are we talking about?” Henry asks, giving up the charade that we’ll actually go back to playing instead of skipping straight to post-game drinks.
“Kendra Gray,” Cory answers, still giving me the side-eye.
Henry frowns.
“You better not be messing her over. She’s been through more than enough.”
I bristle at his chastising tone.
“Of course not. You think I would mess her over after everything that Andre asshole did?”
“I can’t discuss details of the case,” Henry replies, snapping into lawyer mode. Then he sees my face and softens. “But I think it’s safe to call Andre an asshole, yes.”
He looks me over, suddenly impressed.
“Kendra Gray, huh? You did good, kid. She’s an amazing woman.”
“And cute,” Adam adds, though he averts his eyes when I frown at him.
“It’s no big deal,” I lie, trying to seem nonchalant. I’d much rather shout it from the top of the Empire State Building, but I doubt Kendra would want me getting into details with my brothers. Especially given how strangely last night ended…
“No big deal?” Cory scoffs. “You’ve been drooling over the woman since the day you two met!”
“Longer if you count when he was still living in Spain,” Adam mutters, then stops cold. I told him about the billboard in confidence, and he just blurted it out to everyone!
Two pairs of eyes look back and forth between Adam and me, shocked.
“Sorry, man,” he says with a wince. “It just slipped out.”
I sigh, resigned to letting them in on the whole pathetic saga. As much as I can while respecting her privacy, anyway. I don’t mention my suspicions about her assault, or say anything about Andre they couldn’t read online, but I do tell them about the billboard, that night in Little Italy, The Met.
They listen with rapt attention, asking clarifying questions like, Did you seriously go to all her shows in the city?
(Yes, like a stalker), When did the billboard first go up?
(Almost two years ago now.), and Why didn’t you take her home that first night?
I laid everything out, right up until I left her apartment last night.
“I’m sorry, but that was a major fumble,” Adam says, shaking his head.
“What are you talking about?” Cory cuts in. “She literally told him that last night was a fluke and she wasn’t looking for anything serious.”
Ouch! Hearing it put so bluntly is doing a number on my ego.
“I hate to agree with Cory,” Henry says, wiping the back of his neck with a towel, “but she hasn’t even been divorced a year. Getting into a relationship now isn’t the best idea.”
“Are you guys for real?” Adam asks, appalled. “He’s been pining for the woman for years. They’ve steadily been becoming friends. The sex is off the chain. Why should he walk away?”
“Because she asked me to?” I answer, feeling more unsure with each argument they offer. Is Adam right? Am I getting schooled by my little brother?
“The key word being asked. Past tense. A lot can change once the clothes come off. You should’ve just asked her.
” Adam lowers his gaze for a moment, looking somber.
“Trust me when I say that communication is key if you want to go the distance. Don’t let something minor get in the way of something great. ”
“Baby bro!” Cory says, shocked.
“Again, I hate to agree with Cory,” Henry starts, dodging the used sweat towel Cory launches at him, “but that was deep, Adam. It’s the kind of thing a best man might say for a wedding toast.”
Adam’s expression turns smug, and the conversation devolves into bickering over who Henry should choose as his best man.
It’s pointless—we all know Noah’s the obvious choice—but an arm-wrestling tournament as a tie-breaker would be fun.
Or maybe a trivia night about all things Henry; winner gets to be best man.
I leave the park with no more answers than when I arrived, but I feel better. My brothers might have their own things going on, but they’re still there for me. And Adam’s right; Kendra and I need to talk.
Once I’m back at my apartment, I dial her number before bothering to shower.
“Hello?” she finally answers after the fourth ring. She sounds guarded even over the phone, but she still picked up, and I lean heavily against the back of my couch in relief.
“I, uh…,” I start, unsure what to say. “I wanted to call to…explain? Things felt really weird when I left last night, and I couldn’t let any more time pass before we talked about it.”
It’s silent for what feels like an hour before she responds.
“I—” she sighs. “I don’t know what to say, really. We had a great evening, followed by an amazing night, and then you left me naked in the living room.” Last night’s hurt is now laced with anger.
“See, in my mind,” I counter, “I wasn’t walking out on you so much as respecting your wishes. We laid out the ground rules before I even came over; I was just playing by them.”
“Playing huh?” she asks, sucking her teeth. “So, does that mean last night was a game to you?”
“No!” I demand. “Last night was…” I take a breath. Yelling won’t solve anything.
“Last night was incredible,” I continue, my voice calm. “Fireworks. Shooting stars. All that mushy shit. But I felt that way last time too, and then you rushed me out the door and said you didn’t want anything serious. How was I supposed to know this time was different?”
“Shit,” she groans, sounding embarrassed. “You left…so I wouldn’t kick you out again?”
It feels like a trap to admit she actually hurt my feelings last time. Men are supposed to grin and bear it, no feelings required. But if I’ve learned anything over these past months, it’s that she won’t judge me. She has my back, even when I don’t.
“Well…yes,” I confess. “But it wasn’t all bad. You did agree to be friends,” I say with only slight sarcasm. She groans again.
“Double shit. I sound like such a jerk,” she mutters, clearly frustrated with herself.
“You’re allowed to not be ready for something serious,” I offer, trying to comfort her. “You just came out of a marriage, after all.”
She laughs weakly.
“That may be true, but I didn’t need to take it out on you.”
“You didn’t,” I insist. I didn’t call to beat her up about it. I wanted to clear the air.
“So,” I hesitate, trying to keep my hope in check, “you wanted me to stay last night?”
“Yes!” she says adamantly. I can’t contain my smile. “If I’d had my way, you’d still be in bed with me right now.”
Ugh! Sexy as hell and a natural domme? How could I possibly resist?
“At the moment, I’m in desperate need of a shower. I could be down for lunch and a walk in the park tomorrow, though.”
I hear her smile through the phone, and feel right for the first time since leaving her apartment.
“I’d like that.”