Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
DAMON
Blake freezes on the porch steps, staring at something by the front door.
“Is that—” she asks, cutting herself off in shock.
Her medical bag.
My hand instinctively goes to where my gun would be. “Stay here.”
“It’s my bag,” she says, already moving toward it.
“Don’t.” I reach it first, scanning the porch and driveway for any signs of threat. There’s nothing. Just the bag sitting there like someone carefully placed it out of the snow. There’s an envelope taped to the top with Blake’s name written in neat, feminine handwriting.
Lexi.
Blake crouches to open the bag, quiet and shocked. I watch her take inventory of the contents— stethoscope, supplies, even the fucking taser that knocked her out.
And the envelope with the money. All of it.
“Read the note,” I say. She opens it carefully, and I read over her shoulder.
Blake,
I found your bag in the exam room after everyone scattered. Your address was on the luggage tag inside. I wanted to return it—and to say I’m sorry. For hurting you. For not trusting you when you were trying to help.
I’m going somewhere they’ll never find me. Somewhere I can be whoever I want to be.
The money is yours. You earned it, and honestly, it’s blood money anyway. Do something good with it. Something that helps someone else.
Thank you for trying to save me, even when I didn’t want to be saved.
Merry Christmas,
Lexi
Blake reads it twice, and I watch her throat work as she swallows hard.
“She got away,” she whispers, rubbing her eyes. “She really got away.”
I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close. Part of me is still furious at Lexi for hurting Blake, for that moment of pure terror when I thought I’d lost her. But the bigger part, the part of me that Blake has softened, understands.
Desperate people do desperate things. Fuck, I’ve been there more than once.
“Because of you,” I tell her. “You gave her a chance when no one else would.”
“We both did.”
She stares at the envelope of money in her hands. Seven thousand five hundred dollars. Blood money from a forced marriage contract.
“I know what I want to do with this,” she says. Her face is determined, a look I’ve seen so many times before.
“What?”
“Stephanie. The nurse from my unit.” She looks up at me. “She’s a single mom, been working doubles just to keep up with rent. Her car broke down last month and she’s been taking the bus with her kids in the snow.”
Of course, my Angel wants to give away the money to help someone else. I’d never expect any less.
“Can we stop by the hospital on the way to the Shea’s?” she asks. “Drop it off anonymously?”
I cup her face, this brilliant, compassionate woman who always thinks of others before herself. “Yeah, Angel. We can do that.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling into the hospital parking lot. Blake tucks the money into a plain red envelope—no name, no note, nothing traceable, just Stephanie’s name on the front. She scans her ID and we head inside.
The fourth floor is quieter than usual. There’s only a skeleton crew of staff wanting that sweet holiday pay. I spot the nurse Blake mentioned at the station, hunched over charts.
“Wait here,” Blake says, squeezing my hand before letting go.
I watch her approach the nurse station, walking casually like she’s here for a friendly visit. The nurse, Stephanie, looks up and she points to the bandage on Blake’s head.
They exchange a few words. Blake gestures to something, and Stephanie gets up to check. The second her back is turned, Blake’s hand darts into the bag hanging on the chair, slipping the envelope inside.
So slick…like a true professional.
My little vigilante.
Stephanie comes back, they talk for another minute, and then Blake walks back to me with that satisfied smile on her face.
“Done?” I ask as we head to the elevator.
“Done.”
I take her hand, lacing our fingers together. “You’re incredible.”
“Do your cameras reach the nurse’s station? I’d love to see her face when she notices the envelope.”
I raise a brow. “Of course they do. I’ll make sure I set it to record the rest of the night.”
God, I love her.
We drive to the Shea’s, and I keep my hand on her thigh the whole way. I can’t seem to stop touching her. It’s like my body needs the constant reminder that she’s here, alive and safe beside me.
Their house is lit up like a Christmas explosion with lights on every surface, blow-up decorations everywhere, warmth pouring out from the windows. It looks like a Hallmark movie threw up.
“Amanda has added to her collection this year,” I say, taking notice of a few inflatables I’ve never seen.
Before we’re fully out of the car, the front door bursts open. Bailey comes flying out first, Jasper right behind her.
“Blake!” Bailey crashes into her, careful of her head but still fierce. “Oh my God, how are you doing? We’ve been so worried!”
“I’m doing great,” Blake says, hugging her back. “I promise.”
Jasper pulls her into a bear hug next, and I see his jaw clench. “You scared the shit out of us.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Leon and Falin are at the doorway. “Get inside, dummies! It’s freezing out here!” Falin yells, making Blake laugh.
We’re ushered into the warmth, surrounded by the smell of turkey and stuffing and pie.
Everyone starts talking at once while drinks are poured and appetizers set out.
They ask questions about Blake’s head, about what happened, about Lexi and Patton.
It’s a chaotic mess, but that’s no different than normal.
We catch up on the details of their Christmas Eve too.
I keep my arm wrapped around Blake as she excitedly tells them how Lexi returned her bag, and what we did with the money. Pride swells in my chest again.
“I hope Lexi made it somewhere safe,” Blake says, finishing up the story.
“I’m sure she—” Bailey suddenly stops mid-sentence and stares at me. Her eyes go wide. “Is that—Is that a Freddy Krueger Christmas sweater?”
The entire room goes silent. Then everyone bursts out laughing.
“Blake made me wear it,” I say flatly.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Leon says, barely containing his laugh.
“Just wait until you open your gifts,” Blake teases Leon and Jasper.
Falin pulls out her camera. “I need all the pics.”
“You didn’t get us those too, did you?” Leon asks, shaking his head, while Bailey digs through the pile we brought in.
“I need to find those boxes,” Bailey says. “This is the best Christmas ever.”
I look down at her, this woman who almost died last night and is now laughing and joking with our family. What she doesn’t know is I’d wear a hundred stupid sweaters if she wanted me to. I’d do anything for her. I keep that thought in though. I know how much she loves to watch me squirm.
“You’re lucky I love you,” I whisper in her ear as Jasper makes another joke about posting my pic online.
“I know.” She smiles against my cheek.
Mrs. Shea comes in and claps her hands. “Alright, enough teasing Damon for his hideous sweater. Dinner’s ready. Everyone to the table!”
As we move toward the dining room, Blake’s hand finds mine again. Despite everything that we’ve gone through in the past twenty-four hours—the blood, the terror, the concussion, the forced marriage insanity, being here with her—with them, is the only place I’d want to be.
Here, together, building our future one fucked up holiday at a time.
With a skeleton named Holly waiting for us at home.