Callum
THIRTY-FIVE
NOW
Having Damien around grounded me in a way I didn’t think possible. All in all, I’d had an easy life. Our sudden breakup and separation had been the most difficult thing I’d been through, and I’d managed to get through it without him.
And while I sort of felt like the whole fabric of my life was a lie, having him here made things easier. True to his word, he ordered dinner and ran me a bath. He didn’t keep me company in the bath, saying that he wanted to give me some breathing room.
I could hear him talking to Crudinski and every so often Crud would answer back.
The idea that the two of them were bonding made my chest tight.
Having Damien around wasn’t something I’d ever let myself imagine.
We’d been woefully young and too eager to please Sam, who probably hated everyone and everything his whole life.
We’d done everything Sam asked, and I knew now that nothing would have been good enough for him.
What I couldn’t wrap my head around was why my parents would keep my paternity a secret from me? I mean, if it was true, it was pretty fucked up that Sam knew and I didn’t.
More than anything, it was that fact that burned a hole through me.
How could Sam know, but I’d been kept in the dark?
I guess it made sense, though, because they were fine with me living far away and only coming home for short visits around the holidays.
They had their real son to keep them company.
Something ugly twisted in my insides, and I rethought every interaction.
Every holiday. Every phone call where they pretended to miss me. Had everything been a lie?
“Food’s here,” Damien called from the other room just in time to save me from my downward spiral.
I pulled the plug and stepped out of the bath, feeling wetter, but no better than I had felt when I got in. After drying off quickly, I didn’t bother with clothes and just wrapped the towel around my waist and joined Damien in the living room.
The clean living room.
It wasn’t that I was a slob or anything, but it had been a day, and I’d sort of acted like an unhinged goblin and had maybe made a bit of a mess. The letters and their contents were tucked away somewhere. Out of sight, out of mind.
“I hope you still like burgers,” Damien said when I sat down next to him. “I got one with fries and one with onion rings so we can share.”
He glanced over at me and took note of my lack of clothing. Heat flared in his eyes, but he kept his hands to himself. “Are you going to be warm enough?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine,” I told him, flipping the lid of the container open. I picked up the burger, which had been wrapped in foil, and carefully unwrapped it.
The burger was juicy and full of flavor, proof that life went on even when you didn’t know who your parents were.
Was I maybe going to obsess about that until I got answers?
Probably, yes. I must have made progress, though, because when I’d lost Damien, everything had tasted like ash for weeks.
Grief had been this burden that felt too heavy for me to carry.
I’d dragged it around behind me for months and, eventually, it started to get a little easier.
Either I’d gotten better at weathering bad news, or teenage me had felt more for Damien than adult me felt for my whole family.
I didn’t want to dissect that just yet so I picked up an onion ring and bit it instead.
“Thanks for coming,” I said once our burgers were done and we were picking at the sides. “I was kind of losing my shit there for a bit.”
“I’ll always come when you need me,” he replied, looking at me like he wanted me to know that it was the most important thing he’d ever said and that he meant it with every bone in his body. “Always,” he promised.
I wanted to hate the promise because we’d made them before and at the first sign of resistance, we’d folded like lawn chairs.
But we were young. It wasn’t until years later that I realized how young we were.
Still in high school. Still relying on our parents for everything.
Still regular teenagers who thought they knew everything, making plans for a future that revolved around another person.
It had been insanity and maybe it had always been doomed to fail.
But if things had been different, we might at least have had a chance.
“Maybe we shouldn’t make promises,” I said anyway, because deep down I was still a scared kid who’d been hurt and didn’t want to go through that again.
Damien looked at me and his eyebrow arched a little. “Maybe we should, now that we’re in a position to actually keep them. We couldn’t before. You know that. And I know that.”
“It would have been nice to know it back then.” Feeling naked and vulnerable all of the sudden, I stood and clutched the towel so it wouldn’t fall. “I’m… I need clothes.”
I was in the bedroom, stepping into a pair of pajama pants when Damien appeared. He leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked at me like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
“What?” I asked when he didn’t say anything.
“When you go see your parents, I want to go with you.”
“What makes you think I want to see them? And apparently, they’re not my parents.”
“They raised you. DNA doesn’t make a family.”
“Secrets don’t either.”
Damien’s arms dropped and he pushed away from the wall. I stood there and watched him approach me, wanting nothing more than to fall into his arms, but I couldn’t make myself move. I got what I wanted anyway when he wrapped his arms around me.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry they kept this from you.”
I let him hold me. I buried my face in the curve of his neck and took a deep breath. And then another. My hands slid up his back and rested on his shoulder blades. Damien’s arms were wound around me like a shield. What I wouldn’t have given to have had this kind of comfort with me through college.
Our breakup was hard and it had taken me a long time to put myself back out there.
When I finally did, I’d taken things slow with the men I’d dated.
And then, when I’d stopped taking things slow, my hookups still felt hollow most of the time.
But being held? I’d missed it so much. Sometimes I’d been tempted to go online and put something in my bio to indicate that I didn’t want sex, just snuggles.
But I doubted that would’ve gotten me very far.
If I could, I would’ve climbed into his skin and made myself at home.
I was so wound up in him, it was stupid.
I was an adult and Damien was basically a stranger now.
But he didn’t feel like one. Seeing him again had been a kick to the solar plexus, and I wasn’t sure I’d caught my breath yet.
But I knew I’d give up a whole lot of shit to hold on to him and that should scare me.
And it might have if I hadn’t already lost everything.
But with Sam gone, my parents not my parents—allegedly—what did I have left?
A handful of friends. A job that was easy to replace. A whole bunch of nothing.
I had a pub I had drinks at sometimes and the bartender knew me by name. I had a diner I drank coffee in for book club on the first Saturday of every month and Arlene always asked how I was doing and she never pressed when I told her I was fine, but sometimes she’d bring me an extra dessert.
“I don’t know what to do.” After I confessed this, Damien kissed the side of my head.
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“It feels like I do. Like I need to confront them or something. I want answers, theoretically. I mean… what if I don’t want answers? What if I’m better off not knowing where I came from?”
“Do you think you would be?”
I shook my head. “No. I think it’s going to drive me nuts until I find out. Like, who am I? Who are my parents? Why didn’t they tell me? Why did Sam know? Did they know Sam knew? But I’m just so fucking tired, Damien.”
He held me tighter, like he wanted me to know that I could let go and he could take my weight. “What do I do?”
“For now? Nothing. For now, you rest and let me take care of you.”
I thought for a split second that he was going to kiss me, or undress me, or something. But he just held me. He let me hang off of him, giving him as much weight as I wanted. He rubbed my back and kissed my hair and just let me breathe and try to find my center again.
Every day since Sam died, it had been a new adventure.
On some level, I was upset about Sam’s passing, but on another level, I wasn’t.
I wasn’t all that sad. I wouldn’t miss him all that much.
Sam was kind of a prick to me even before he caught me with his best friend.
It was hard to mourn someone I didn’t like, and I’d already dealt with the idea that we wouldn’t be friends like we had been when we were little kids.
Growing up, Sam and I had been fairly close. And then he got older and temperamental. His moods grew uglier and darker. He put on a good front for everyone else but would take his attitude out on me.
Leaving home had been a blessing. Yes, I’d missed Damien like I’d lost a limb, but the freedom I felt when I realized I wouldn’t have to talk to Sam or see him all that much lit me up inside.
But because of Sam, my life was in shambles again and right then I was too tired to pick up the pieces.
“Come to bed with me,” Damien said, steering me toward the bed. He pulled the covers back and urged me to climb in.
I’d just stepped into the pajama pants, but it was no hardship to take them off again and climb into bed. I scooted over to make room for him.
Watching him undress made anger twist inside me. He’d been a gangly teenager when we were together and somewhere along the way, he’d turned into a handsome man, and I hadn’t been there to witness the transformation.
“We missed so much,” I said as Damien slid into bed beside me. He lay on his back, and I scooted closer, draping my body over his, using his chest as a pillow. I slung an arm around his waist and he put his around me.
“Can I make a confession?”
“Always.”
Damien shifted around so he could look me in the eyes. “I fucking hate your brother.”
Satisfaction flickered in the darkest parts of me, because I was here and Sam wasn’t.
“Can I confess that I do too?”
“Too bad we couldn’t have figured that out years ago, hey? But maybe,” Damien paused and ran his hand down my arm until he found my hand and tangled our fingers together. “Maybe things are working out exactly as they were meant to.”
For so long, I hadn’t dared to hope for anything that I almost forgot how bright it made everything.
How light it made me to have a dream to cling to.
Damien was that dream. He’d been the dream all those years ago, and he was the dream again.
It might be foolish, but I couldn’t help the rush of feelings that had come at me when I saw him again.
“Maybe,” I said, shifting closer. “Maybe you should give me a kiss.”
“Just one?” He was smiling when he said it. Smiling and already leaning in.
“Maybe you should kiss me more than once,” I whispered, his lips almost brushing against mine. Maybe he should kiss me forever.