Chapter 5
The next two weeks were the strangest of my life.
Damian was everywhere.
And nowhere.
He was at breakfast.
Making pancakes.
Playing horses on the floor.
Building Lego towers with Milo.
Then he’d disappear for hours.
Sometimes days.
And come back with that cold look in his eyes.
The one that said he’d been doing things no decent human being should ever have to do.
But the second he saw Milo… it vanished.
He’d drop to his knees.
Open his arms.
And be Daddy again.
I watched them.
From the kitchen.
From the stairs.
From the garden.
And I felt something I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Safe.
The compound was surrounded by guards.
Walls.
Cameras.
No one got in.
No one got out.
Milo could run and play and scream as loud as he wanted.
And nothing could touch him.
But I still couldn’t sleep.
Every night I’d lay awake.
Staring at the ceiling.
Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Because this was Damian Stone’s world.
And in his world, happiness never lasted.
One night, I heard the door open.
I sat up.
Grabbed the lamp from the nightstand.
Ready to swing.
It was Damian.
He stood in the doorway.
Wet from the rain.
Bleeding from a cut on his forehead.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“Didn’t mean to wake you.”
I put the lamp down.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” he said, wiping the blood off with his sleeve.
“Just business.”
“Damian.”
He sighed.
Leaned against the doorframe.
“Some of Marcus’s old men tried to make a move.
Took the docks.
We took them back.”
“‘We took them back’?” I said, getting out of bed.
“Does that mean people are dead?”
He didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
I walked to him.
Touched his face.
He flinched.
Like he didn’t deserve it.
“Come on,” I said.
“Let me clean that.”
I led him to the bathroom.
Sat him on the closed toilet.
Got the first aid kit.
Cleaned the cut.
Stitched it.
He didn’t make a sound.
Just watched me.
“You’re good at that,” he said when I was done.
“I’ve had practice,” I said, putting the kit away.
“Five years on my own.
Milo falls.
He cuts himself.
There’s no one else to do it.”
Damian’s jaw tightened.
“I hate that I missed it.”
“Miss what?
The scraped knees?
The fevers at three in the morning?
The first steps?
The first words?”
“All of it,” he said quietly.
“Every single second.”
He stood up.
Towered over me.
“I hate that you had to do it alone.
That you were scared.
And poor.
And I was here… living in this big empty house… thinking you’d left me because you didn’t love me anymore.”
I looked away.
He lifted my chin.
Made me look at him.
“Do you still?” he asked.
“Still what?”
“Love me.”
The question hung in the air.
Thick.
Heavy.
I’d spent five years telling myself I didn’t.
That I’d gotten over it.
That it was just a fling.
A mistake.
But looking at him now…
Bleeding.
Broken.
Trying so hard to be good for us…
I knew the truth.
I’d never stopped.
Not for one day.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Damian closed his eyes.
Let out a breath like he’d been holding it for five years.
“Thank God,” he said.
He kissed me then.
Softly.
Tentatively.
Like he was afraid I’d disappear.
I didn’t push him away.
I kissed him back.
Five years of longing.
Five years of loneliness.
Five years of what-ifs.
All of it came together in that one kiss.
He lifted me.
Carried me to the bed.
Laid me down.
And for the first time in five years… I didn’t feel alone.
I woke up the next morning to an empty bed.
My heart sank.
Then I smelled coffee.
And heard voices.
I got up.
Put on Damian’s shirt.
Walked to the kitchen.
And stopped.
Damian was at the table.
Milo was sitting on his lap.
They were both looking at a book.
A photo album.
“Who’s that?” Milo asked, pointing at a picture.
“That’s your grandfather,” Damian said.
“He was a good man.
Tough.
But fair.
He would have loved you.”
“Who’s that lady?”
“That’s your grandmother.
She… she passed away before you were born.”
Damian’s voice got quiet.
“She always wanted a grandson.”
Milo leaned his head against Damian’s chest.
“I wish I could have met them.”
“Me too, buddy,” Damian said, kissing the top of his head.
“Me too.”
He looked up.
Saw me in the doorway.
Smiled.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” I said, walking in.
“Sleep okay?”
“Better than I have in years,” I said honestly.
He stood up.
Milo still in his arms.
Walked over to me.
Kissed my forehead.
“I have to go out for a few hours,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Marcus’s men are still making trouble,” he said.
“I need to tie up some loose ends.
Make sure they understand the new rules.”
“New rules?”
“No one threatens my family,” he said, looking from me to Milo.
“Ever.
And anyone who doesn’t understand that… gets removed.”
He set Milo down.
“Be good for Mommy, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy!”
Damian knelt in front of me.
Took my hands.
“I’ll be back by dinner,” he said.
“I promise.
And when I get back… we’re going to talk about the future.
All of ours.”
He kissed me.
Quick.
Hard.
Then he was gone.
Milo tugged on my hand.
“Mommy?
Can we go swimming?
Daddy said there’s a pool!”
I looked out the window.
At the blue water glistening in the sun.
At the guards patrolling the fence line.
At the life I’d accidentally fallen back into.
“Sure, baby,” I said.
“Let’s go swimming.”
We spent the day outside.
Milo splashed.
I watched.
For the first time all day, I let myself relax.
Maybe it was going to be okay.
Maybe Damian really could protect us.
Maybe we could be a family.
Then I heard the alarms.
Loud.
Blaring.
Red lights flashed all around the compound.
The guards started shouting.
Running.
Milo stopped splashing.
“Mommy?”
I grabbed him.
Pulled him out of the pool.
Wrapped a towel around him.
“Get inside,” I said, pushing him toward the house.
“Now!”
We ran.
May you like
Behind us, I heard gunshots.
Lots of them.
