Page 85 of Wild Tangled Hearts

Damien swallows hard, and his eyes meet mine. In that momentary connection, I sense the inner turmoil he carries. It becomes evident that the lighthearted dinner conversation was a deliberate effort to protect both themselves and me from the haunting shadows of their past, instead choosing to concentrate on the happier memories they've built together.

After dinner, as I sit on the floor doing a craft project with Lexi, I overhear snippets of conversation between Kathy and Damien. It's clear that she approves of me, but her motherly instincts are at the forefront as she quietly warns her son not to break my heart.

It’s something I’m worried about too. Because the closer Damien and I get, the more I realize how deep his pain goes and how little I know about him.

As the night wears on, Damien becomes increasingly withdrawn and broody. It's only after we've said our goodbyes and he's assisting me onto the back of his motorcycle that he breaks his silence from dinner.

"I’ll take you home." His voice carries a stern tone, and he avoids making eye contact.

I place my palm on his chiseled jaw, the rough scruff grazing my delicate skin as I turn his face to meet mine. "Did I say something that upset you?"

He lets out a deep sigh. "No. It's just..." He takes my hand and presses his lips softly against my knuckles, then shakes his head as if trying to clear the darkness from his thoughts. "Let's go." He secures my arms around his waist and revs the engine.

I assume he's taking me back to my place until we stop in front of an old warehouse.

"Where are we?"

Guiding me off the bike and taking my hand, he leads me inside. "My place."

The loft apartment feels like a world away from the cozy family home we just left. It's enormous but empty of the basics, starkly contrasting the warmth and cluttered memories that filled his mom's place.

Damien tosses his leather jacket over a metal bar stool at the kitchen island, takes a deep breath, and turns to face me. His eyes hold a mixture of fear and longing, and he starts, "Bella, I don't know what this is between us." His voice hints at vulnerability. "But I've never felt this way, and it terrifies me."

"It terrifies me too," I admit, drawing nearer to him. I place my hands on his chest, sensing the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palms.

"I've done things I'm not proud of," he confesses. "I've walked down a shadowy path that led me to some dark places. Crossed paths with dangerous people who still bear grudges against me." His eyes meet mine, and I can see the unease in them. "The thought of involving you in my complicated life terrifies me even more."

I’ve never known anyone like this man: dark, brooding, mysterious, and undeniably dangerous. The fear is mutual, but I can’t imagine walking away from him despite my apprehension. Because he might be dangerous, but he’s also vulnerable, sweet, caring, and…everything I never knew I wanted.

"I like what we have,” I tell him, downplaying how much he’s already starting to mean to me. “And want to know everything about you. The good, the bad, all of it.”

He sighs, his expression reflecting the weight of his past. "Trust me, Bella," he begins, his voice tinged with remorse, “our lives are so fucking different. When I saw you in the coffee shop, I knew you were too good for me. That my life would only pollute your perfect world.”

“My life was far from perfect when I met you. Sure, it was good. But it was also incredibly boring. When I’m with you, I have no idea what will happen next.”

“There’s something good about predictability,” he says.

“There’s also something good about being with you.”

He holds my gaze for a moment, and then his eyes shift away. "It's not just the shit I've done, Bella, but..." His breath catches, and I glimpse the boy he once was—scared, vulnerable, and broken. "A lot of fucked-up shit was done to me as a kid. And I'm fucking terrified I'll bring that toxicity into our relationship."

I move closer to him and rest my hands on his chest. My heart feels like it’s shattering, not for me, but for him. For the pain he’s gone through — the fear he still holds.

"I want to be with you," I assure him, my voice filled with conviction. I kiss him, our lips meeting in a soft, lingering moment, and I feel a sense of belonging, as if the universe has conspired to bring us together. That maybe I was meant to help heal the broken boy that lingers within him. He might find the haven he’s never known with me.

But deep down, a small worry remains — a whisper of doubt.

We break the kiss, and Damien gazes into my eyes, his vulnerability laid bare. "You deserve better than me, Bella. I’ll never be your Prince Charming if that’s what you’re after.”

I give him a wry smile. "Who said I want a fairy tale? I want real, messy, complicated love. And if that comes with a side of danger, I guess I'll have to learn to be a badass like you."

He chuckles, and the tension in the room dissipates.

I nestle my head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. “Maybe I’ll be your Princess Charming, or whatever the equivalent is.”

He laughs and kisses my head, his lips lingering there. "I've never met anyone like you, Bella.”

I smile, bunching my fists in his t-shirt and letting my thumbs brush against his abs. “I’m wondering if your command from early is still in effect?”

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