Chapter 43
Westbridge looks exactly the same.
After everything that’s happened since I was practically dragged from campus, it still exists in this untouched bubble of ivy-covered stone and students stressing over GPAs, like the world continued to go on as normal.
The Gothic buildings glow amber beneath the late-afternoon sunlight as students cross the quad, carrying backpacks and coffee cups. Music drifts faintly from an open window while laughter echoes across the courtyard.
It’s all normal. The entire campus feels painfully normal, except for packing up my dorm room. Again.
Damon stands in the middle of my room, looking like a six-foot-four security threat. My roommate, Chloe, hasn’t known peace since he arrived an hour ago.
To be fair, neither have I.
Though, for me, it’s mostly because watching Damon move around my tiny dorm room in a fitted black Henley, carrying heavy boxes like they weigh absolutely nothing, should probably qualify as foreplay.
He ducks slightly beneath the low doorframe with another armful of my things, while Chloe pretends very hard not to stare at him, which is difficult because he looks wildly out of place here.
Compared to the Westbridge frat boy and jocks who look like Calvin Klein models and smell like expensive cologne, Damon looks like he was granted parole an hour ago.
“I still think this is ridiculous,” I huff while packing the last of my sweaters into a duffel bag.
Damon snorts softly from across the room. “You’re not staying here.”
“I survived here perfectly fine before you.”
“Mm-hmm.” He stacks another box near the door. “Not convincing.”
I’m putting up a fight, but in reality, I’m not actually upset about it. Not even a little.
Excluding the three days he spent in Bogotá, I haven’t gone a day without waking up tangled around him since the first night he was in my bed.
The thought of sleeping anywhere without Damon feels wrong in a way I can’t fully explain.
And Damon apparently agrees because the second we boarded the flight back to Chicago, he informed me—with absolutely no room for negotiation—that I would not be spending a single night anywhere except beside him.
Chloe clears her throat awkwardly as Damon lifts my suitcase effortlessly from beside the desk while balancing another box against his hip. “You know,” she says carefully, “most boyfriends just help lug a laundry basket or two.”
Damon glances at her. “Most boyfriends aren’t moving their girlfriends into their home.”
My entire face heats instantly, and Chloe’s eyes widen. Damon looks completely unaffected by the fact that he just casually dropped girlfriend into the conversation for the first time, and my pulse absolutely does not survive it.
He notices, too, because the corners of his lips twitch slightly as he walks over to me. “Ready?”
I nod weakly.
Chloe hugs me goodbye while Damon somehow balances a large cardboard box in one arm and my suitcase in the other like he’s physically incapable of struggling with anything.
“You’d better text me,” Chloe says firmly.
“I will.”
“And if he murders you?—”
“You’ll never find the body,” Damon deadpans.
Chloe stares at him, desperately hoping he’s kidding.
“He’s kidding!” I exclaim.
Chloe points at him immediately. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about.” Damon looks completely unrepentant, and a laugh slips out of me before I can stop it.
A few minutes later, the three of us head downstairs, stepping out into the crisp Chicago air, as students flood the pathways between dorm buildings. Chloe heads to class, and Damon leads the way to the nearby parking lot, carrying nearly all of my belongings despite my repeated protests to help.
His SUV sits parked beneath a row of trees near the edge of campus. He loads everything into the back effortlessly while I hover nearby, pretending not to admire his forearms flexing beneath pushed-up sleeves, which is difficult. Very difficult.
Once the last box is inside, Damon closes the hatch and immediately turns to face me and pulls me into him. A startled laugh leaves me as my hands land on his chest automatically.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m still upset with you,” he informs me, seriously, “that you wouldn’t give me the opportunity to have the college experience on the tiny dorm bed.”
“Oh my God,” I choke on a laugh, “my roommate was not leaving me alone with you.” I shove lightly at his chest. “I’m pretty sure she’s currently calling the FBI to see whether there’s been a recent prison break.”
Damon laughs quietly, the sound low as it rumbles against my chest. God, I love hearing that from him.
His hand slides gently into my hair, tucking a loose strand behind my ear before kissing me softly.
“Hey,” a familiar voice interrupts. We both turn, and my stomach flips clean over when I see Gabe standing a few feet away. His hands are shoved self-consciously into the pockets of his jacket while his eyes bounce briefly between the two of us.
Damon straightens slightly beside me. “When I texted, I didn’t think you’d come.”
Gabe exhales softly through his nose. “Truthfully? I wasn’t going to.”
Hurt flickers across Damon’s expression.
Gabe shrugs one shoulder awkwardly. “But… I’m here.”
Damon nods once. “I’m glad.”
The few seconds of silence that follow are painfully awkward.
Gabe huffs a laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll be honest,” he says. “This is still weird as fuck.”
“For me, too.” I giggle before I can stop myself. “You aren’t the one who’s made out with both of you.”
Gabe barks a startled laugh. And for the first time since all of this started, I see a glimpse of the easygoing boy I first met at Westbridge before everything in my life became complicated. “I guess it’s a good thing we never slept together, huh?”
Damon’s head turns toward me slowly.
“Wait.” His brows lift. “You made out with him?”
“Oh my God.” I slap him lightly on the chest. “Stop it.”
A grin spreads slowly across Damon’s face, and Gabe laughs a little harder.
The light moment cuts the tension between them a little. It’s not fixed or even comfortable, but it’s better.
Gabe’s gaze flits between the two of us before landing on his dad. “You look happy,” he says finally. Damon stills beside me. Gabe shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. “Like… really happy. In a way I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”
Emotion flickers across Damon’s face so briefly that most people probably wouldn’t notice it, though I do.
His arm wraps around my waist slowly before pulling me a little closer into his side.
“I am,” he states simply, glancing down at me.
And the way he looks at me nearly steals the breath from my lungs. “Very happy.”
No one has ever looked at me the way Damon does, like loving me is the easiest, most natural thing he’s ever done.
Gabe notices it, too, I can tell by the way his expression softens and tightens at the same time. Part of him still doesn’t know how to process seeing his father like this. Seeing us like this.
He shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry,” he starts honestly. “This is going to take some time.”
Damon nods immediately in understanding. “I’ve got time. However much of it you need.” His voice softens slightly further. “But I’m your dad, Gabriel. I’m always here for you.”
Gabe’s gaze falls to his feet for a second before he clears his throat roughly. “So…” He gestures vaguely. “Dinner sometime?”
“Dinner sounds good.”
“With rules,” Gabe adds quickly while pointing between us. “If either of you starts flirting aggressively in front of me, I’m leaving.”
I laugh. “That’s fair.”
“Very fair,” Gabe mutters.
The goodbye afterward is still awkward, but promising. Maybe this impossible situation won’t stay impossible forever.
Gabe starts backing away, while Damon rounds the SUV toward the driver’s side. As he opens the door, Gabe pauses. “Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah?” Damon stands against the open door.
“When you come to parents’ weekend…” Gabe’s eyes flick toward me mischievously. “Maybe don’t bring my new stepmom.” The huge smile splitting his face makes my humiliation approximately one hundred times worse.
“Oh my God.” My entire face combusts, and I bury it in my hands.
His stepmom… The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“Gabe,” I groan through my hands.