Page 22 of Surviving the Break
Debra’s petite form peeked around him. “Sorry, Mr. Jackson, he wouldn’t listen.” She looked frantic. Just months shy of her retirement, she couldn’t wait to be rid of Damon.
“It’s all right, Debra.” I threw the pen I held onto the stack of papers in front of me, removed my glasses, and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Why must you torment my executive assistant, Damon?”
“She loves me.” Damon closed the door and strode purposefully to take the seat opposite my desk.
“She curses the day you were born, Damon.”
“Why have you been avoiding me?”
“For fuck’s sake, I’m not avoiding you—”
“Bullshit. I haven’t seen or heard from you in a week, and you haven’t returned my calls.”
With all that he had going on in his life, he still found time to obsess over me. I should’ve been flattered. “I came by the house the other day,” I said, knowing it would make him explode.
“When you knew I wasn’t there!” He hung on the unreasonable end of the spectrum today.
“How do I get an appointment with Blake?”
“It doesn’t work like that, and you know it.”
Blake was the more reasonable half of Damon. Nowadays, Damon was more of a blend between his two selves, less separate. Moody Damon was what I referred to him as. “I stopped by to talk to Justin about Max. I’ve been avoiding you because he’s been on my mind a lot, and I didn’t want to deal with your irrational disapproval.”
“Because you’re too good for him.” His lip curled.
“Fantastic. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.” I put my readers back on and picked up a patient file, raising it high enough to remove Damon from my field of sight.
Damon pushed the file down with a finger. “Sorry.” He said it like it hurt. “Talk to me, please.”
“Shouldn’t you and Max be getting along, now?” Surely enough time had passed by now. Maybe being territorial was a part of Damon that would always remain.
“Some days are harder than others.”
“You meaneasier.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He tossed the paperweight he’d picked up onto my stack of papers.
I didn’t have it in me to spar with him any longer. Sensing this, he put his own feelings aside.
“Talk to me, Ash. Dodging each other has never been us.”
He was right. “He’s different, Damon. Max is warmth, strength, and light.” You felt it simply by being in the same room with him.
“So, what’s the problem?”
“He’s scared. I could let it go if I believed he wasn’t into me.” I bit the arm of my glasses, replaying the last words Max said to me in that bathroom.“One night.”
He blew out a breath. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. I can see that something about this is different. You’ve never spent your time fixated on anyone. This torch you’re holding is more.” His face soured. “I want you happy. I need it.”
My expression softened. “I love you too, brother.”
AFTER MY RUN-INwith Damon at the hospital, I went to see my mother. “Mom! Your favorite son is home.”
Her laughter trickled from the kitchen. “Don’t let Damon hear you, baby boy.” She stood at the stove stirring something in a pot. It smelled amazing.
“Mmm, whatcha making?” I grabbed her by the waist before she could respond, spinning her around in circles before placing her back on her petite feet. Sauce, from the spoon in her hand, landed on the tiled floor. I kissed her forehead and dodged her swatting hand.
“You’re worse than Damon sometimes.” She pretended not to love it. “By the way, he came here looking for you. Stormed in here like a raging bull, searching the house. Said you were avoiding him. I had to whack him in the head to get him to simmer down.”
