Chapter Twenty
Where I Belong
Quinn
There’s a strange kind of peace that comes when your life finally starts making sense. Not perfect sense. Life rarely works that neatly. But the kind of sense where your heart stops feeling like it’s fighting itself.
That’s where I am tonight. Standing in the middle of House of Ink while the shop buzzes with the familiar sounds I’ve grown to love.
Tattoo machines humming. Music playing softly through the speakers.
Alistair arguing with Skye about whether pineapple belongs on pizza.
(It absolutely does, for the record.) And Damien standing beside me like this is the most natural thing in the world.
Like we didn’t just start dating a few weeks ago, like we’ve always been this way.
“Careful,” he murmurs quietly.
“What?”
“You’re staring again.”
I blink. “At you? That’s not staring.”
“It absolutely is.”
“I’m observing.”
“That’s my line.”
I smile and lean slightly against the counter beside him. “You’re very observant today.”
“I always am. You just didn’t notice before.”
“That’s probably true.”
Across the room Skye suddenly throws her hands into the air. “See? Even Quinn agrees with me!”
“I did not agree with anything,” I call back.
“You’re clearly on my side.”
“About pineapple on pizza?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, yes.”
Alistair groans. “Traitor.”
Everyone laughs. And just like that the moment settles into something warm and comfortable again. This place has a rhythm and a life of its own. And somehow I fit into it now.
Not as a visitor. Not as the girl who occasionally brings cupcakes. But as someone who belongs.
“You’re smiling again,” Damien says.
“I do that sometimes.”
“More lately.”
I glance at him. “I smile when I’m happy. You’re responsible for that.”
“I’ll take the credit.”
“You should.”
He looks pleased with that answer. I’ve noticed something about Damien over the last few weeks. He doesn’t demand attention and he doesn’t dominate conversations, but he notices everything.
Every shift in someone’s mood. Every small detail. Every moment that might matter. Which means he noticed the change in me almost immediately. The lighter feeling. The way my shoulders don’t feel so tense all the time. The way I laugh more easily.
“You know what’s weird?” I say.
“What?”
“I thought breaking up with Emette would destroy me.”
“That would have been understandable.”
“But it didn’t.”
He nods slowly. “Sometimes the thing that hurts the most also sets you free.”
“You’ve been saving that line, haven’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, it’s accurate.” I glance around the shop again.
Laine is finishing a tattoo in the booth near the back. Alistair is sketching a design for a client. Skye and Alistair are still arguing about pizza toppings like it’s a life-or-death situation. And for some reason the whole scene makes my chest feel warm.
“I like it here,” I say quietly.
Damien follows my gaze around the shop. “Good.”
“No,” I say. “I really mean it.”
“I know.”
“I feel ... safe.”
He looks back at me. “That’s important.”
“It’s more than important. It’s everything.”
We stand there quietly for a moment. Then the bell above the door jingles as a couple walks in for a consultation. Damien moves automatically toward the desk.
“Be right back,” he says.
“Take your time.”
I watch him greet the new clients calmly, explaining paperwork and answering questions. Helping them feel comfortable in a place that might seem intimidating to someone new.
Damien isn’t just good at noticing people. He’s good at caring about them. Quietly, consistently, and without expecting anything in return. Which makes the fact that he waited for me even more incredible.
“You’re doing it again,” Skye says suddenly.
I jump slightly. “What?”
“Staring at Damien.”
“Stop sneaking up on me. Besides, I’m allowed to stare now.”
“I was already standing here.” She says with a grin.
“That’s worse.”
She grins even wider. “So?”
“So what?”
“Are you happy?”
The question catches me off guard, but the answer comes easily. “Yes.”
“Like ... really happy?”
“Yes. I’m stupidly happy.”
“Good.” She nods approvingly. “Because he’s been walking around like he won the damn lottery.”
I laugh softly. “That’s adorable.”
“Disgustingly adorable.”
Luke walks over at that moment. “Who’s disgustingly adorable?”
“Damien and Quinn,” Skye says.
Luke squints at me. “Yeah, that checks out.”
“Why is everyone analyzing my relationship?”
“Because we like Damien and we like you,” he says without preamble. “And we enjoy happiness.”
“That’s suspiciously wholesome for someone with as many muscles and tattoos as you have.”
“We are more than what you see on the surface,” he says honestly. “We have layers. Besides, I have kids so I have to be somewhat wholesome.”
I shake my head, smiling. Across the shop Damien finishes with the new clients and walks back over.
“What did I miss?” he asks.
“Relationship analysis,” I say.
He groans. “I knew leaving you alone with them was a mistake.”
“Too late now.”
He slips his arm casually around my waist and the gesture feels natural and easy. The warmth of his hand against my side sends that familiar little spark through my chest.
“You ready to head out soon?” he asks.
“Where are we going?”
“Dinner.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Then maybe a walk.”
“Also nice.”
“And if you’re lucky...” He leans closer. “...dessert.”
I laugh. “You’re bribing me with dessert?”
“Cupcake diplomacy.”
“That’s my strategy.”
“I’m learning from the best.”
We say our goodbyes to the crew a few minutes later. Skye hugs me, Alistair waves, and Laine gives Damien a knowing smirk that I pretend not to notice.
Then we step outside into the cool evening air. The sky is turning a soft shade of purple as the sun sinks below the trees. Damien holds the door open for me.
“After you.”
“You’re very polite.”
“Still have that good mother.”
“I should thank her someday.”
“I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”
We walk toward his truck together and as he opens the passenger door I realize something that feels both simple and huge at the same time. For the first time in a long time, I’m not wondering if I’m enough for someone. I’m not trying to be the person someone else wants.
I’m just me. And Damien looks at me like that’s exactly who he hoped I would be.
He starts the truck and glances over.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“Good.”
I smile softly. “Actually...” I reach over and take his hand. “I’m more than okay.”
Because sometimes the right person doesn’t arrive with fireworks. Sometimes they show up quietly. They wait patiently. They stand beside you when things fall apart. And when the dust settles...
You realize they were the one who was meant to be there all along.