“You look different,” I muttered and studied him closer. Like me, Damian had brown eyes and dark hair, but his eyes had an almond shape that made him look as if he had a bit of Asian heritage.
“Perhaps it’s because I’m not in uniform.” He had a pronounced Irish accent that made his speech sound friendly and melodic. I loved the Irish accent, but I didn’t have one myself. My mother had been born in London, and my teacher had been from England too. Liv teased us children that we would make great announcers on BBC because we spoke very properly. How could we not after having Conor O’Brien as our teacher? He had cared a great deal about our sounding sophisticated and cultivated.
“Ye think I look different?” Damian touched his hair. “I styled my hair so ye can see that I don’t always have helmet hair.”
My eyebrows drew together. “You styled it for me?”
He nodded. “How’s yer ankle? Better?”
“My ankle is fine.” I wrapped my arms around my legs and lowered my head to my knees. “Thank you for saving me.”
“My pleasure.” Damian gave me a sad smile. “I’m sorry about yer mom, lass.”
My nose tickled the way it always did when I felt tears prickling behind my eyelids.
“I wish that we could have saved her, too.”
I didn’t want to cry, but the mere mention of my mom set me off. Using the heels of my hands, I dried away the tears that I didn’t want to shed in front of a stranger.
“I’ve been thinkin’ about ye a lot,” Damian said with sympathy. “How are ye copin’ with everythin’?
“I try not to think of it, but it’s hard.” I nodded my head at the boxes on the floor. “We were allowed to retrieve things from our rooms, and your sister was kind enough to pack everything in my room, but I can’t look at it. Everything reminds me of my mum.”
“Ye shared a room with her, didn’t ye?”
“Yes. It was only my mum and me.”
“Where’s yer da?”
“Maybe he still teaches at Cambridge.” I shrugged. “All I know is that he was her professor. Mum told me he was the most brilliant man she knew, but impregnating his student when he was married and already had a family wasn’t very bright, was it?”
“But if he had a family, that means ye might have siblings.”
My fingers played with my bedsheet. “My mother was used by my father and let down when she needed him the most. I have no interest in meeting him, ever. As for potential siblings, I don’t want to rip up their family by revealing that their father cheated on their mum.”
“But they’d be adults now.”
“Atlas, River, Nathan, and Maximum are my siblings. We made a pact to always be there for each other. I don’t need my father’s side of the family or my mother’s, for that matter. My grandfather banned my mum from his house after she fell pregnant. The reputation of his fine Indian family name was more important than supporting his daughter in the most difficult time of her life.” I sighed. “My mum gave up everything to have me, and she died while protecting me.”
Damian’s eyes looked a little moist too. “Seems God was making sure ye lived. He must have plans for ye, lass.”
I looked away. “I don’t believe in a God. If there were such an entity with infinite powers, then why would he let my mother die? She never did anything bad to anyone. My mum was kind and sweet.”
Damian reached for the tissue box on my bed and handed it to me. “Here.”
I took a tissue and blew my nose. “Do you still have your mum?”
“I do. My mum is from Thailand. She married my father and moved here twenty-eight years ago. I was born less than a year later.”
“So, you’re twenty-seven then.”
He nodded. “Twenty-seven and two months. My birthday is September 17th.”
I leaned my head to one side. In my eyes, Damian looked very grown-up with his size, deep voice, broad shoulders, and stubble, yet his need to count months reminded me of Atlas, who was sixteen.
“When’s yer birthday?” Damian asked.
“September 1st.”