Chapter 36
I sit alone beside the pool after Damon disappears inside with Jagger.
Wriggling my toes, I watch the water ripple softly around my ankles.
Every once in a while, a breeze moves through the courtyard hard enough to disturb the surface, breaking apart the reflections of the sun glowing across the surface.
It’s cool against my skin, but I barely perceive it.
All I notice is the absence of him beside me, like the space he left behind is still too large to ignore.
My chest tightens at the thought, warmth spreading through me in a way that feels both steady and consuming, because there isn’t fear in me when it comes to him—there’s only certainty.
Damon is dangerous and lethal, and I don’t confuse that with anything other than what it is.
He’s overprotective, possessive, and downright violent when it comes to me, but he is also soft and tender.
I’ve never felt safer or more cared for than I do with him.
I like the feeling of being his. The truth settles over me quietly, undeniable and absolute: I’m not just falling for him… I’m already there.
I stare down at the pool again, watching pale blue reflections dance across my legs.
Exhaling slowly, I finally pull my slightly pruned feet out, water dripping down my calves as I stand.
As I turn, I notice Damon’s boots near the lounger with his socks.
I bend and scoop them up automatically, cradling the heavy boots against my chest, and head toward the house barefoot.
I know Damon said he’d come find me when he finished his call, but honestly, I need to move. Sitting alone with my thoughts feels like drowning. I walk to the command center to bring him his boots.
Voices drift from the command center and down the hallway as I approach: Damon’s low rumble and a younger, male voice through speakerphone. “Kenz? Yeah… We ended that like two weeks ago.”
I stop mid-step in the threshold, my stomach dropping, and the boots nearly slipping from my hands. No fucking way. “Gabe?” I blurt as my brain tries to process what’s happening, Damon jerks in my direction immediately as surprise flashes across his face.
“Kenz?” My name comes through the speakerphone again.
Damon’s brow furrows deeply. Confusion flickers across his face as he looks between the phone and me.
My eyes flick between him and the phone before coming to rest on Damon, ice flooding my bloodstream. “How do you know Da?—”
“Wait,” Gabe cuts in sharply. “The tattooed guy you left campus with was my dad?”
“Shit,” Jagger exhales from the other side of the room, both his brows shooting up. “Pause. I need to get my popcorn.”
Gunnar immediately slugs him hard.
“Fuck!” Jagger snaps, grabbing his bicep. “What was that for?”
“Read the fucking room.”
The two of them continue to argue, but I barely hear them. My brain is too busy short-circuiting.
No, no, no, no.
Gabriel.
Gabe.
Four billion men on Earth, and the only one I’ve ever dated is Damon’s son.
Real fucking funny, universe.
“Oh my God,” I whisper-shout.
Damon drags a hand down his face violently. “Oh fuck.” The words leave him in a horrified mutter.
The poor connection crackles through the phone.
“What do you mean, oh fuck?” Gabe demands.
Nobody answers, because honestly, what the hell are we supposed to say right now?
A moment of deafening silence fills the command center.
“Were you being serious, Kenz?” Gabe snaps, breaking the silence, his voice sounding furious this time. “You’re fucking my dad and all his friends?”
Jagger throws his hands up. “Whoa. Don’t rope me into this like that. The Doc would cut my fucking balls off.”
I stare blankly at the speakerphone, horrified.
“No,” I blurt quickly. “Just your dad.” The second the words leave my mouth, I internally cringe so hard I almost implode.
Shit. That’s not really helping.
Damon closes his eyes briefly, like he physically feels the disaster escalating. “Get out,” Damon growls at the guys.
The instruction in Damon’s voice leaves no room for argument.
Jagger grabs Gunnar’s sleeve. “Come on, Dad. Apparently, we’re not welcome at family therapy.”
Damon shoots a look at Jagger that would make me pee my pants as he points sharply toward the door. The two disappear quickly, Gunnar shutting the door behind them, leaving me and Damon alone with my ex on speakerphone. And me also wishing I could’ve gone with them.
Gabe laughs through the speaker, but there’s nothing amusing about it. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Gabriel—” Damon starts.
“No,” Gabe snaps. “No, seriously, what the fuck?”
“I didn’t know!” Damon exclaims.
I step farther into the room, clutching his boots awkwardly like an idiot. “Neither of us knew.”
Gabe goes quiet for half a second before another bitter laugh crackles through the line. “Wow.”
I close my eyes briefly. This is a nightmare. An actual nightmare layered on top of an already terrifying twenty-four hours. And I don’t know which I’d rather never have to experience again.
Shaking, I set Damon’s boots carefully near the desk. “I swear to God, I didn’t know,” I say softly toward the phone.
“How long?” Gabe asks.
Damon stiffens, roughly rubbing his hand over the back of the tensing neck. “Long enough.” He looks at me from across the desk, and the expression on his face nearly breaks my heart. He is full of disbelief and guilt, guilt for something he didn’t even know.
“No,” Gabe grumbles. “How long, Kenz? How long did it take before you realized he was good enough to fuck?
“It’s not like tha?—”
“Don’t you dare fucking talk to her like that,” Damon roars over me. “You were raised better than that.”
“How would you know? You weren’t there.”
“Because I know your mother, and she would put you through the fucking wall if she heard you talk to a woman like that.”
“Yeah… she’d have a few words to say about this to you, too.”
The silence that follows feels massive, like it might swallow us all whole.
“Seriously, Kenz? Him?” Gabe sounds exasperated.
I glance at Damon. Tall. Ripped. Tattooed. A trained killer who is old enough to be my father. Tender. Compassionate. Arms that make me feel safe the second they wrap around me. An adoring man showing me a world I didn’t know existed. One where I am beautiful and worthy of being worshipped.
“Yeah…” I smile at Damon, despite the disaster unfolding around us. “Him.”
“Why?” Gabe’s anger has subsided a little, replaced with what almost sounds like heartache at my answer.
For as much as a jerk Gabe was sometimes about sex—or the lack thereof—I know him well enough to know this isn’t about me giving myself to his dad instead of him.
This isn’t about his ego. I can hear it in his voice.
While Gabe might be a six-foot, athletic frat boy with a six-pack and a jaw line that demands attention, he harbors the same insecurity I do. That he’s not good enough.
“Gabriel,” Damon’s voice is calm but strained as he exhales heavily, “listen to me. I care about her.”
My pulse stutters, hearing him say it. He didn’t have to share that. Not right now. Especially not while everything is burning down around us. And judging by the silence on the phone, Gabe didn’t need to hear it, either.
“No, you listen,” Gabe snaps back immediately. “Do you have any idea how insane this sounds?”
“Yes.”
“At least you admit it,” Gabe grumbles. “Because this is so fucked up.”
I sink into one of the chairs near the table because my legs suddenly feel weak again. The past twenty-four hours have officially exceeded my emotional capacity.
My father’s corruption.
My mother’s murder.
Assassins—or is it hitmen—coming to kill me.
And now I accidentally made out with Damon’s son before sleeping with Damon.
On paper, this reads like the beginning of a really nice vacation home and private yacht for my future therapist.
Truly incredible work, Mackenzi.
I drop my face into my hands briefly. “This cannot be my life.”
“I didn’t know who you were to each other,” Damon says firmly. “If I had?—”
“You always put yourself first,” Gabe snips. “You still would’ve fucked her.”
The accusation hangs in the air, Damon hesitating to respond. He doesn’t need to say anything for me to know Gabe is right. The truth is written all over Damon’s face. He’s gone for me. Completely.
“Jesus Christ! You would’ve!” Gabe exclaims before sighing heavily. “You know what’s the most fucked up part?”
“What?” Damon asks cautiously.
“You’ve put more effort into defending your relationship with her than you have into building one with me.”
Pain flashes across Damon’s face—real pain—and suddenly I understand something important about him. For all his confidence and control, there is a part of him terrified that he failed as a father.
“I’m trying,” Damon replies quietly, the honesty in his voice painful to hear.
“Not hard enough.”
Damon leans against the desk beside me, exhaustion written through every line of his body.
“You know what? Forget about coming.”
“Gabriel—”
“Actually… don’t bother coming to anything ever again.”
My stomach drops. “Gabe—” I start quickly, the line disconnecting, cutting me short. Dead silence fills the room, other than the suddenly deafening soft hum of electronics.
I stare at Damon.
He stares at me.
And for several long seconds, neither of us says a word.
Because, honestly?
What the hell is there to say after that?
I already know how this ends…