Chapter 10 Damien
Chapter ten
Damien
My mother looked like a ghost.
The coffee in her hand had gone cold hours ago—I could tell by the film forming on the surface—but she hadn't noticed. Hadn't moved. Her eyes were fixed on Sebastian's face like she could will him awake through sheer stubbornness alone.
She'd lost weight. Hollowed cheeks. The cardigan hanging loose. The cough had started three days ago—but today it was worse. Wet. Persistent. She'd waved it off every time I'd brought it up.
But now the circles under her eyes looked less like exhaustion and more like bruises.
"Mrs. Holt," a young nurse said from the doorway. "Is there anything I can get you?"
My mother's head turned.
"No, thank you. I'm—"
A coughing fit seized her, sharp and ugly, phlegm catching at the back of her throat loud enough for both of us to hear.
I glanced at Emma from where I stood at the foot of the bed. Concern crossed her tired face.
She'd been amazing. Every possible moment she'd spent devoted to Sebastian, Rosie, me, and Candace.
I was failing them both. The woman who raised me. The woman I loved.
I should have stepped up days ago. Taken the title she'd handed me and done something with it.
A knot cinched beneath my ribs—fear again, sharp and unwelcome—while my mother's coughs quieted, her inhales growing steadier.
"Mrs. Holt," the nurse tried again. "Are you okay?"
She waved her off. "I'm fine, dear. Just a little tired."
The nurse's mouth thinned. "I'm so sorry," she said carefully, regret on her face, "but we can't allow sick visitors into the ICU."
The only sound was the quiet beep of the machines keeping Sebastian alive.
Finally, my mother broke the silence. Low. Dangerous. "I'm not leaving."
"Mom—"
"Shut up," she snapped, turning back to Sebastian.
"Rosie." Emma spoke beside me, soft and steady. "I know you don't want to leave. Believe me, I understand. But if you're sick, you can't stay. It isn't good for Sebastian, let alone the others on this floor."
My mother leaned in. Drawn to Emma like gravity.
"But who will be here with him?" she whispered, tears welling.
And I didn't have an answer for her. Emma and I could handle nights, but the days? Impossible. Rotating shifts would raise suspicion long before anyone asked the right questions.
But Emma spoke again—gently, steadily. "I can call Candace?" she offered. "She has more free time now that she's moved out. And I think having someone to help might be good for her."
My mother blinked. "Candace?"
"My best friend." Her tone stayed gentle. "She's… going through something right now. A big change. And I think—" She chose her words carefully. "I think this would give her purpose."
My mother's brow furrowed, uncertainty flickering across her exhausted features. "I don't know, sweetheart. I don't know her. It might be awkward."
"She's good people, Mom," I said, finally adding something useful. Her attention drifted between Emma and me, then back to Sebastian.
"You'd do that for us?"
My mother set the cold coffee on the side table, fingers trembling.
Emma leaned forward and grasped my mother's hand. "Of course."
"You're an angel," she whispered, a single tear sliding down her cheek. She turned to me. "Damien, if you ever—"
"I know. I know," I said quickly, warmth flooding my face.
She still hadn't brought up the truth about how Emma and I began, but she hadn't forgotten. She'd hold it over my head forever, threatening to rain hell on me if I ruined this.
Especially after this past week.
Now Emma might even edge me out for my mother's love. Hell, she was probably already ahead.
My mother getting the daughter she'd always wanted. Emma getting the mother she never had.
I looked at Sebastian.
One day, I promised myself, my hand tightening on the rail of his bed.