Damien grabs the robe hanging by the wall and drapes it over me, his movements quiet but firm. That's when it hits me — how bare, how fragile I am in front of him. My breath shakes, and before I can say anything, he lifts me into his arms.
His warmth seeps into me as he carries me back to my room. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the faint trace of sweat and worry, lingers close enough to make my chest ache.
He lays me gently on the bed, but the sudden distance when he moves away makes something inside me twist. I don't want him to leave. And as if he senses that, he lies beside me and pulls me into his chest.
It feels strange — needing him like this. Wanting his closeness just to erase what happened. To silence the fear crawling under my skin.
"Did you call the cops?" My voice is small, trembling.
"I did." His tone is low, edged with restrained fury. "He deserves to rot for what he did. And if the cops don't find him…" His jaw tightens, eyes darkening. "I will."
The way he says it sends a strange warmth through me. I've heard people sound angry before, but not like this — not like they mean it. Damien's protectiveness feels heavier, realer… and I can't help the way it makes me feel.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my face against his chest. My thoughts are everywhere — scattered, wild, afraid.
He exhales softly. "I tried to call Jake too. He didn't pick up."
Jake. My brother. I imagine his face if he knew, the way his heart would break, and I can't bear it.
"Don't tell him," I whisper.
" Lia, he deserves—"
"No, please." I cut him off before he can finish. "It's already bad enough. I can't handle him knowing too."
He goes quiet for a long moment. Then I feel his arm tighten around me, his hand resting at the small of my back.
"Why didn't you bring your car today?" he asks softly.
"It broke down this morning," I murmur. "I was going to ask you for help but…"
He cuts me off, his tone rougher now. "You could've called me. One call, that's all it takes."
I flinch slightly, but his anger isn't directed at me — it's for me. Still, it makes my heart race.
"I thought you were busy," I whisper. "You have a game tomorrow."
He lets out a dry laugh. "You think that's more important than you?"
I don't know what to say to that, so I just stay silent. I'm exhausted — too tired to fight, too tired to think. I close my eyes, breathing in the sound of his heartbeat.
Minutes pass. Then, just when I'm about to drift off, I hear him whisper against my hair.
"I'm sorry."
There's a quiet crack in his voice. "I should've come sooner."
Something in my chest softens at his words. And then — a featherlight kiss brushes the top of my head. My breath catches, heart skipping a beat. Before I can process what just happened, sleep pulls me under completely.
---
🌅 The Next Morning 🌅
When I wake, sunlight spills through the curtains. For a second, everything feels normal. Calm. Then I glance to my side and realize he's gone.
The blanket still carries his scent.
I get up and walk toward the hallway, the floor cool under my feet. That's when I see him — walking through the door, his shirt sticking to his chest, sweat glistening across his skin, oil smeared over his hands. His hair's a mess, and he looks so effortlessly… Damien.
"I fixed your car," he says simply, voice deep and calm. "The battery was dead."
I blink, trying not to stare — and failing miserably. My heart skips when I notice how the sunlight catches on the lines of his arms, the curve of his jaw.
"Right," I manage to say, a little too softly. "Thanks, Damien."
He studies me for a second, his gaze unreadable. "Do you have class today? You don't have to go if you're still not feeling up to it."
"Oh, I— yeah, I do," I stammer, glancing at the clock. "My first class starts at ten."
He nods slowly. "Then I'll drive you. I need to meet my coach anyway."
The way he says it sounds casual, but I can tell it isn't a request.
"Okay," I reply quietly.
I head back to my room to get ready while he goes to clean up. The shower water feels warm against my skin, washing away what's left of yesterday's fear. For the first time, I don't feel fragile. I feel… safe.
Because Damien's still here.
---
🏈 Later That Afternoon 🏈
The day moves faster than I expect. Before I know it, I'm sitting on the bleachers with Stacey beside me, a hotdog in her hand and excitement in her eyes. The football field stretches wide before us, the crowd buzzing with energy.
Derek sits on my other side — the same guy who once nervously asked me to lunch. Turns out, we share a few classes. He's sweet in a quiet, nerdy way, though I can't stop thinking about how Jake once called him "weird."
When I catch him glancing at me, I smile, and he blushes, scratching the back of his neck.
The whistle blows. The crowd roars. My heart leaps when I spot Damien in uniform — confident, commanding, eyes fixed on the game.
It's been ages since I've watched one of Jake's games, but this feels different. Maybe because the person
I'm watching now isn't just a player.
He's Damien.
And I can't look away.
.
.
.
TBC 🌹✨💖