Page 85 of Watch Me Burn
“I know, Damien.”
“I just want you to know if you want to talk, I’m here.”
She looks at me, and for a moment I think she sees me, all of me. An almost sad smile tugs at her lips.
“Thank you, Damien. You really are a sweet man.”
A derisive laugh wants to escape, but I swallow it down. I’m not a sweet man. I’m a man who’s deceiving her. I lie to her every day and night in both my personas, and she deserves better.
“I’m sorry I’m shit company lately.”
“I don’t think you’re shit company. Ricky obviously doesn’t either.” I nod toward the raccoon using her breasts as a pillow, his hands wrapped around his stuffed monkey, two fingers pulling at its nose. I’m pleased when she snorts.
She reaches for my hand, her fingers wrapping around mine.
“Why are you so good to me?”
Because I love you. Because the child you lost was mine. And I’m hurting too.
The words I long to say burn behind my teeth, desperate to escape. But I can’t. Not now, when she’s as fragile as spun glass. Not when she’s grieving something we both lost, but only she has to carry.
Instead, I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“Because you deserve it.”
Chapter twenty-one
Luna
Idrag the brush through Cotton’s mane in long, steady strokes, finding comfort in the repetitive motion. This mindless routine is what I need right now. The familiar scent of hay and horse fills my nostrils, grounding me when everything else feels like it’s floating away.
“Almost done with you, boy.” I run my palm along his flank. He responds with a low whinny.
The barn door creaks open, letting in a gust of cold air and the sound of boots on straw. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Damien. He changes the air when he enters a space. Thickens it, electrifies it, and makes it press against my skin. My pulse stumbles even though my thoughts are scattered elsewhere.
He’s been coming to visit almost every day for the last week and a half. Just stopping by to say hi, bringing lunch, or bringing Athena to play with Shadow and Ghost. He doesn’t stay long, and though it’s a little strange, it’s been nice.
“Maren told me where you were. I hope that’s okay.” His deep voice echoes in the wooden structure. “Thought you might need something warm.”
I turn to see him carrying a steaming mug, snowflakes melting on the shoulders of his expensive coat. It’s almost comical, this polished billionaire standing in my humble barn, looking like he just stepped off a magazine cover. But that’s Damien.
“Thanks.” I accept the hot chocolate. Our fingers brush, and that familiar spark, the one I’ve been trying to ignore, rushes beneath my skin. The warmth spreads through my palms as I wrap both hands around the mug.
“Don’t you ever work?”
“That’s what I pay Cade for. I hardly ever go to my Denver office anymore. I prefer to work out of my office up here.”
“You’re spoiling me with all this attention. Bringing me lunch from Giacomo’s, just stopping by to bring me hot chocolate. I might get used to this. What’s next? Mucking stalls?”
He chuckles, and the sound sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. “I draw the line at manure. Though for you…” He shrugs, leaving the sentence hanging with that hint of a smile that makes my stomach flutter.
He moves closer. “So, you seem better than you were last week.”
“Yeah, I’m getting back to myself.”
The words come easier now, less like a lie I’m telling myself. Healing happens in increments too small to measure day by day but visible when you step back and look at the whole picture. The crushing weight that settled on my chest after the miscarriage has lifted enough that I can breathe without conscious effort.
Maren has been my anchor through all of it, choosing to stay up here instead of going home to her apartment, claiming the mountain roads are too treacherous for her daily commute. We both know the weather is just her excuse. She’s here because she refuses to let me navigate this alone.
