Chapter 7 Cracks in the Armor
Rainy Afternoon
Texas weather made absolutely no sense.
One moment the sky was bright blue.
The next, it looked ready to fall apart.
Elliot discovered that fact the hard way.
The afternoon had started normally enough.
Classes ended early, leaving him with a few free hours before volunteering at the youth center. Since the weather looked pleasant, he decided to walk through town rather than drive.
His sketchbook rested inside his messenger bag.
Music played softly through his earbuds.
For the first time all week, life felt uncomplicated.
Then the clouds appeared.
Dark gray masses rolled across the horizon with surprising speed.
Within minutes, sunlight disappeared.
The air grew heavy.
Humid.
The kind of atmosphere that seemed to hold its breath before something happened.
Elliot glanced upward.
"That doesn't look good."
The sky apparently agreed.
A distant rumble of thunder answered him.
Wonderful.
He quickened his pace.
The youth center sat several blocks away.
If he hurried, maybe—
Rain exploded from the sky.
Not a drizzle.
Not a light shower.
A full Texas downpour.
Water crashed onto streets and sidewalks with astonishing force.
People scattered immediately.
Store owners rushed outside to move signs.
Drivers switched on headlights.
Within seconds, Elliot was soaked.
"Seriously?"
The rain showed no sympathy.
Wind pushed water sideways.
Thunder rolled overhead.
His sweater clung to his skin.
His hair stuck to his forehead.
This was officially miserable.
Elliot broke into a jog.
Any shelter would do.
A store.
A restaurant.
A bus stop.
Anything.
The problem was that the nearest buildings sat another block away.
By the time he reached them, he would already be drenched.
Then he spotted a familiar garage.
Across the street.
Large metal doors.
Several trucks parked outside.
Instant recognition followed.
Damon's garage.
Or at least the garage where Damon often worked.
At the moment, Elliot wasn't particularly concerned with details.
He was concerned with not drowning.
Water splashed around his shoes as he crossed the street.
The storm intensified.
Rain hammered rooftops.
Thunder shook the sky.
The weather had officially declared war.
Breathing hard, Elliot ducked beneath the large overhang extending from the garage entrance.
Relief flooded through him.
At least he was dry.
Mostly.
Okay, partially dry.
Still better than before.
Several mechanics moved around inside the building.
Tools clanged against metal.
Engines hummed.
The familiar smell of oil and machinery filled the air.
Elliot stepped farther beneath the shelter and pushed wet hair away from his face.
The timing couldn't have been worse.
Or maybe better.
Depending on perspective.
Because standing near one of the trucks was Damon Blackwell.
The older man looked up from whatever he had been working on.
Their eyes met.
For a second, neither spoke.
Then Damon glanced toward the storm.
Back toward Elliot.
The expression on his face suggested he found the entire situation mildly amusing.
Elliot couldn't even blame him.
He probably looked ridiculous.
Wet.
Disheveled.
Standing in a garage doorway like a lost puppy.
"Having a good day?"
Damon's deep voice carried easily through the building.
Elliot laughed.
"What gave it away?"
"The weather."
"Right."
Thunder cracked overhead.
Both instinctively glanced outside.
The storm wasn't slowing down.
If anything, it seemed determined to get worse.
Damon wiped grease from his hands with a rag.
"You walking?"
"Was."
The older man raised an eyebrow.
"That was your first mistake."
Elliot smiled despite himself.
Something about Damon felt easier lately.
Not easy.
Never easy.
The older man still carried walls higher than most buildings.
Still pushed people away whenever conversations became too personal.
Yet the distance between them felt smaller than before.
The diner.
The porch conversation.
The way Damon kept showing up whenever trouble appeared.
All of it had changed something.
At least for Elliot.
Maybe for Damon too.
The thought made his chest feel strangely warm.
Dangerous thought.
Very dangerous.
"So what happens now?" Elliot asked.
Damon looked outside.
The answer was obvious.
"You wait."
"Helpful."
"I try."
The older man's mouth twitched slightly.
Almost a smile.
Almost.
The sight made Elliot's stomach do something alarming.
He immediately ignored it.
Or tried to.
A mechanic nearby shouted something to Damon.
The older man responded before walking deeper into the garage.
Work called.
Reality returned.
Elliot remained near the entrance.
Watching rain pour from the sky.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
The storm showed no signs of ending.
Lightning flashed.
Thunder followed.
Several employees eventually left for the day.
One by one, trucks disappeared from the parking lot.
The garage gradually grew quieter.
Soon only a handful of workers remained.
Including Damon.
Eventually, the older man wandered back toward the entrance carrying a bottle of water.
Without a word, he offered it.
Elliot accepted.
"Thanks."
A shrug.
"No problem."
The simple gesture shouldn't have mattered.
Yet it did.
Small acts of kindness often mattered most.
Especially from people who rarely offered them.
They stood side by side watching the storm.
Not speaking.
Just existing together.
The silence felt comfortable.
Which was becoming increasingly common.
And increasingly dangerous.
"You know," Elliot said eventually, "most people would've left me out there."
Damon glanced over.
"You were standing in a thunderstorm."
"Fair."
The older man shook his head.
"You have terrible survival instincts."
Elliot laughed.
"That's twice you've insulted me today."
"It wasn't an insult."
"Sounded like one."
"It was an observation."
The distinction seemed important to him.
For some reason, Elliot found that adorable.
The realization nearly made him choke on his water.
Adorable?
Really?
The six-foot-three tattooed roughneck was many things.
Adorable wasn't one of them.
Apparently his brain had stopped functioning properly.
Rain continued pounding the pavement outside.
The storm remained relentless.
A quick glance at his phone revealed more bad news.
The weather forecast predicted another hour.
Maybe longer.
Fantastic.
Elliot sighed dramatically.
Damon immediately noticed.
"What?"
"I'm supposed to be at the youth center."
The older man's expression softened slightly.
"You can call."
"I already did."
"They understand?"
"Yeah."
The disappointment must have shown.
Because Damon studied him for a second.
"You like it there."
The statement wasn't really a question.
Elliot nodded.
"A lot."
The older man seemed thoughtful.
Then surprisingly, he smiled.
A real smile this time.
Small.
Rare.
Enough to completely transform his face.
"Good."
The single word landed harder than it should have.
Because it sounded genuine.
Not polite.
Not casual.
Genuine.
Elliot found himself staring.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Fortunately, Damon looked away first.
Unfortunately, the moment remained.
Lingering between them.
The garage grew quieter still.
Another mechanic headed home.
Then another.
Soon only Damon remained.
Outside, rain continued falling in heavy sheets.
The parking lot resembled a lake.
Thunder echoed across town.
Elliot glanced toward the street.
No chance of walking through that.
Not unless he wanted to swim.
Apparently Damon reached the same conclusion.
The older man folded his arms.
Studied the storm.
Then sighed.
A long-suffering sound.
As though arguing with himself.
Elliot recognized the expression.
Something was coming.
"What?"
Damon looked annoyed.
Mostly with himself.
"You're not walking home."
"I figured."
"Good."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
The older man clearly disliked whatever thought was forming.
Which immediately made Elliot curious.
Finally, Damon muttered something under his breath.
Then louder:
"You can stay here until it passes."
The words sounded reluctant.
Painfully reluctant.
As though offering shelter violated several personal rules.
Yet the offer remained.
Real.
Sincere.
Elliot smiled.
A genuine smile he couldn't stop.
"Thanks."
Damon immediately looked suspicious.
"What?"
"You know you're a nice guy, right?"
The older man groaned.
The reaction made Elliot laugh.
Unfortunately, it also made his heart feel strangely light.
Because beneath all the warnings.
Beneath the reputation.
Beneath the walls.
Damon Blackwell kept revealing pieces of someone entirely different.
And the more Elliot saw, the harder it became to look away.
Stories Shared
The storm showed absolutely no intention of leaving.
An hour passed.
Then another.
Rain continued hammering the metal roof above the garage with enough force to drown out most other sounds. Thunder rolled across the sky at regular intervals, while flashes of lightning briefly illuminated the parking lot beyond the open bay doors.
What had started as a quick stop for shelter had somehow turned into an entire evening.
Not that Elliot minded.
At least, not entirely.
Being trapped in a garage with Damon Blackwell should have felt awkward.
Instead, it felt surprisingly natural.
Dangerously natural.
The remaining employees eventually headed home, leaving only Damon behind.
Apparently, part of his job involved locking up and making sure everything was secure before leaving.
That responsibility seemed perfectly suited to him.
Everything about Damon suggested reliability.
Steadiness.
The kind of person people depended on whether they admitted it or not.
The realization made Elliot smile.
He was sitting on a stool near one of the workbenches when Damon returned carrying two cups of coffee from a small break room.
Without a word, he set one down beside him.
Elliot looked at the cup.
Then at Damon.
"Again with the secret kindness."