Chapter 39 Damien
Damien
It’s a rare warm fall day today. The sun’s got teeth this afternoon, biting into my bare shoulders as I sit at the edge of the pool with Noah practically folded in my lap.
There’s a pair of cheap sunglasses perched on his nose, his blue hair damp, and every so often, he wriggles against me, just to hear me complain and wrap my arms tighter around his waist.
I told him I wasn’t letting him sit anywhere else, and if he wants to fight me on it, he’ll lose.
He looks so stupidly beautiful in the light—his skin flushed, legs bare, old scars silvered against his thighs and arms—and he’s exuding the kind of happy that’s so new on him, it still feels like a privilege to witness.
Every time I see him laugh, my chest aches in a way that’s got nothing to do with pain.
There’s color in his face, a lightness in his eyes I haven’t seen in months.
It knocks the air out of me every time I look at him.
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that—how he fits so perfectly in my arms, how every time he leans back, it’s like he’s giving me a little more of himself than before.
I press a kiss to his temple, letting my hand drift up and down his arm while trying to tune out the chaos that is the backyard.
Killian is moving like a general at war, delegating the entire barbecue like it’s a covert op: Ryan and Roman on grill duty—Roman arguing that Ryan will burn the steaks, Ryan telling him to piss off.
Luca is dragging a folding table across the lawn, Thorn and Damon are hanging up string lights and swearing when one of them blows a fuse.
Damon’s only here for the weekend, and the fact that Roman has been constantly glued to his side is both hilarious and good to see.
He’s all ease, grinning like a dope every time Damon so much as looks at him.
Damon, of course, acts like he barely notices, but his hand never leaves Roman’s lower back.
Julian and Eli keep a careful distance, talking to everyone but never to each other, orbiting in the same space but refusing to collide. There’s tension there, enough that the house still notices, everyone tiptoeing around their silent war.
They’re all scattered between tasks, but not Sage and Nate, who’ve claimed matching loungers by the shallow end and are sunbathing, sunglasses on, trading sarcastic commentary about everyone’s work ethic.
Noah sighs, tucking his feet up, and I tighten my arms around him. “You good, Blue?”
He nods, tipping his head up to look at me, sunlight glinting off his glasses. “Yeah. Just… I could stay here forever, I think.”
“You’re stuck with me until I decide otherwise,” I tease, even though the thought of him leaving—packing up and heading to New York, even if it’s just for a while—makes my stomach twist.
He laughs, fingers curling into my forearm. I press my chin to his shoulder, close my eyes, breathing him in—chlorine, sunscreen, the lingering sweetness of his citrus shampoo. I wish I could freeze this. I wish I could hold onto it forever. But I know it won’t last, not exactly.
He’s going to New York soon—he needs the space, the distance from all the things here that have hurt him.
I want to be selfish, keep him tucked under my arm every day, wake up with him, feed him, make him laugh, make him safe.
But if letting him go for a while means he gets to be happy, I’ll do it. I’ll do it a hundred times over.
Luca’s voice shouts across the yard, breaking the spell. “Hey, where’s Red? Somebody tell the ginger he’s not getting out of kitchen duty.”
Shrugs and a chorus of “Dunno, man’s” sounds across the yard. Liam pulls out his phone, already dialing. “I’ll give him a call. He was supposed to help with the skewers. If he’s ghosting again, I swear to god—”
Noah stirs, fidgeting with the hem of my swim trunks. “Hey, Mien?” he murmurs, so quiet I have to dip my head to hear him. “Can I tell you something? It’s about Adrian.”
I nod, instantly alert to the change in his tone. “Of course. What’s up?”
He twists his hands together in his lap, not looking at me, his eyes fixed somewhere over the pool where Sage and Nate are squabbling about SPF.
“When you left for your game the other day, Adrian came by. He was acting weird. I mean, more than usual.” He lets out a forced, shaky laugh.
“But he wouldn’t look at me, kept apologizing and saying it was his fault I was hurt.
He said it a bunch of times. That he was sorry, that he didn’t mean to, that he never wanted me to get hurt. ”
A chill slides down my spine, the kind that comes from hearing something that doesn’t add up. “Did he say what he meant? Did he… do something?”
Noah shakes his head, frowning. “No, he wouldn’t tell me. I tried to get him to talk, but he got spooked and took off before I could ask him anything else.”
I stare out over the pool, feeling a familiar dread settle in my chest. I don’t want to put the pieces together because they don’t make sense. Adrian is a good guy, a sweet guy—quiet, almost invisible sometimes, but he’s kind to his core.
He’s been one of the only people Noah’s really opened up to since he got here, and I know they hang out sometimes, go for coffee, or just sit by the river and talk. But this? Apologizing? Blaming himself?
“He said it was his fault you got hurt?” I ask.
Noah nods, chewing on his bottom lip. “Yeah. He looked like he was about to cry, Mien. I thought maybe he was blaming himself for not noticing how bad I was getting, but… I don’t know. Something felt off. He wouldn’t even look at me. I’ve never seen him like that.”
The pieces are there, jagged and refusing to slot together. Adrian’s been acting off for weeks, but we chalked it up to stress, finals, maybe something with his family. But guilt—real, ugly guilt—was never part of the equation, and now I can’t shake the suspicion that we’ve missed something big.
Noah turns in my lap to face me fully, his eyes wide and a little afraid. “Do you think… he did something? Do you think he told my dad where I was, or…?”
I want to lie, to tell him there’s no way, but I can’t do that to him. Not after everything. “I don’t know, Blue. Adrian’s never been anything but good to you. But fuck… I don’t know. We should talk to him, yeah? Figure out what’s going on before we start panicking.”
Noah nods, curling closer, burying his face in my neck. “Yeah. I hear you. I just… I can’t do this again, Damien. I can’t go back to hiding, or watching everything I say, or… having people betray me. I can’t.”
I feel him take a shaky breath, letting it out against my collarbone.
The backyard swells with the sound of laughter and music, the smell of charcoal and spices filling the air as Killian shouts orders at Roman and Thorn, and Damon and Luca start a wrestling match over the last of the chips.
There’s life here, the kind that swallows grief whole and spits it out as something survivable.
But beneath it all, there’s a chill running through me. Because Noah’s right—he can’t take another betrayal. And if Adrian has been hiding something, it’s only a matter of time before it all comes to light.
I press another kiss to his temple, holding him as close as I can. “You want me to talk to Killian?” I murmur.
Noah nods, so faintly that I feel it more than see it.
He draws a breath, squares his shoulders the way I’ve watched him do before a swim meet, as if steeling himself for a cold plunge.
I give his hip a reassuring squeeze and slide him off my lap—reluctant to lose the weight of him but needing to fix this for him.
I pull him up with me, both of us walking barefoot across the warm stone where Killian stands by the grill, one eye on Roman and Thorn, who are now arguing over whether or not you can grill pineapple.
He looks up as we approach, a single eyebrow arching as he sees the two of us together, his usual cool focus shifting in an instant. “What’s up?” he asks.
I clear my throat. “Can we talk a sec? It’s about Adrian.”
He glances at Noah, then at me, reading our faces in that unnerving way of his, then nods and steps away from the grill. “Rome, keep an eye on this for me,” he says, then he gestures for us to walk. “What happened?”
We walk as I go through what Noah just told me—Adrian’s apologies, the guilt, and how he said it was his fault that Noah got hurt. Killian’s expression grows tense with every word, a frown settling in.
Killian is quiet for a long moment, then he pulls out his phone and scrolls fast, thumb moving so quickly he nearly misses the call button.
He turns away, and I hear his voice drop low.
“Yeah. I need you to check on something for me. No, not that. Adrian Hart. Yes, now.” There’s a beat, then, “Don’t bullshit me. Call me back.”
He hangs up, and his face is pinched, irritation warring with something more like worry. For Killian, that’s saying a lot. He barely glances at us before the phone buzzes again. The call is short this time, his eyes narrowing further as he listens.
Noah chews his lip, twisting his hands together. “I don’t like this,” he whispers.
“I know, me neither.”
Finally, Killian ends the call and turns back to us, sliding his phone into his pocket. He takes a breath, looks from me to Noah, then says, “Did either of you know that Lionel is engaged again?”
Noah stares, mouth half-open. “What? No. He—He never said anything.”
Killian’s gaze is unblinking when he nods. “He got engaged quietly a week before you arrived at Blackthorne. No announcements, nothing public. But it’s legit. There’s a prenup already drafted.” He studies Noah for a long, uncomfortable beat. “He’s engaged to Adrian’s mother.”
It hits like a punch. Noah goes pale, then flushes, confusion and disbelief warring across his face. “Adrian’s… what? I—He never told me. He never told me anything.”
Killian shrugs, but the look in his eyes is sympathetic. “Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he wasn’t allowed. Maybe he thought you’d find out another way, or maybe he just didn’t want to be the messenger. Either way, it’s out now.”
I stare at Killian, mind racing to fit the pieces together. “So… what? You think Adrian’s been in touch with Lionel? That he’s been—”
“I think there’s more going on than we realized,” Killian interjects, holding up a hand. “If Adrian’s mom is marrying Lionel, that puts him in a fucked-up position. We won’t know until we talk to Adrian directly.”
Noah covers his face, fingers digging into his scalp. “Why does it always have to be like this? I finally let myself be happy for two seconds, and my dad’s still in the background, pulling strings.”
I pull him closer, hating the way his voice cracks. “Adrian’s been dealing with this on his own, too. If he was forced into it, that explains the guilt. But I know he never wanted to hurt you, Blue. Adrian isn’t like that.”
Killian runs a hand through his hair, exasperation written all over his face.
“I’ll make sure Adrian knows he’s not in trouble, and I’ll talk to his mom if I have to, see how far Lionel’s gotten his claws into her.
But you need to know, this isn’t on you, Noah.
This is your dad trying to play god with everyone’s lives. ”
Noah lets out a shuddery breath, tears shining in his eyes, but he pulls himself together. “What do I do? What do I say to Adrian if I see him again? If he—if Adrian was helping him—”
“We don’t know that,” Killian says, cutting him off gently. “And until we do—until we hear the truth from Adrian’s mouth—you’re not going to drive yourself mad thinking worst-case. You’ve got enough scars, Adams. Mentally and otherwise.”
I watch Noah nod slowly, still processing, still trying to make sense of something that feels like betrayal wrapped in confusion. Killian notices too and places a hand on Noah’s shoulder, lowering his voice.
“You’re not weak for needing time,” he tells him. “You’re not dramatic for feeling gutted by this. But you’re not alone anymore, either. You’ve got Damien. You’ve got me. And you’ve got a house full of dumbasses who’d go full feral if anyone tried to hurt you again.”
That earns a watery laugh from Noah, just a breath of it, but it’s something. “You’re really bad at comforting people, you know that?”
Killian raises a brow. “I’m not here to comfort you. I’m here to make sure you stay alive long enough for someone else to do it properly.” He turns to me. “That’s you, by the way.”
I offer a two-finger salute. “Understood, Captain.”
“Good,” Killian grins, sliding his usual Golden Boy mask on again.
“Now go. Be normal college kids for a minute, for fuck’s sake.
That’s what you’re supposed to be doing.
” Then he’s gone, blending back into the madness like he was never even serious to begin with, barking at Roman and Thorn to stop arguing before one of them ends up in the pool.
Noah lets his head fall against my shoulder, eyes closed, breath warming the crook of my neck. “He’s scary,” he mumbles.
“Yeah,” I say with a chuckle. “But I think you’ve grown on him. He probably sees you as a little brother now. Killian’s scary when he goes into protector mode.”
He smiles at that—soft, real, the kind of smile I haven’t seen since yesterday, and it loosens something in my chest. We walk back to where we were sitting, and I tuck him into my lap again, stroking my hand along the dip of his waist.
Across the yard, someone throws a ball too hard and knocks a bowl of chips off the table. Thorn starts yelling. Nate screams something about sunscreen. Killian threatens bodily harm if the grill gets knocked over. Everything is loud and stupid and messy again.
But for once, it feels like the right kind of chaos. Not the kind that breaks you—just the kind you can live inside.