“I want to apologize. That’s why I’m here.”
“You could have sent me a text message.” I’m curt.
“Too impersonal. I wanted to say it to your face.”
“What are you apologizing for exactly?”
“For snapping at you last night. And for storming off. I should have handled that better. I don’t like walking away from you upset.”
“Shit happens,” I blow it off.
“Don’t be like that.”
“Don’t be like what?”
“Dismissive.”
“How else should I be? We’ve said everything we needed to say.”
“No, we haven’t.” He gets up off the bed and comes to stand in front of me. Right in front of me. Like, only several centimeters away. The closeness makes me uneasy, because I don't trust myself when I’m around him. Despite the front I put up. “I know there’s more.I know,” he emphasizes, “underneath whatever bullshit reservations you have, you care about me.”
“Of course, I care about you. I’ve known you my whole life.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I’m in love with you, Liv. And I have been since I was nineteen years old.”
Hearing that absolutely kills me. It both breaks my heart and glues it back together, because I truly believe he means it. I truly believe what he’s feeling is real. But then I think back to last night with the cocktail waitress, and I question everything. How do you profess your love one minute, and then give your attention away so freely the next?
I lost my trust in him ten years ago, and no matter what, I don’t think I’ll ever get it back.
“Damon, this is getting exhausting,” I sigh.
“Good. That’s the point. Tire you out so you give in and finally realize I’m right.”
I look up into those crystal-blue eyes and know, if I ever give in, I will be done for. I will lose this battle, and my heart, and possibly the ability to ever love anyone else again. Because Damon will consume me. He will own me. And he will destroy me if I let him. If I love him and he betrays me the way so many of his MC predecessors have done before him. It’s a vicious cycle, and I’m all too aware of the signs and the consequences.
“You need to go.” I push him away lightly, my palm resting in the middle of his chest.
He takes my wrist and holds it tight, pleading with his eyes. “I may not have many tomorrows left. And the only thing I’m sure of is that I want to spend every tomorrow I can get with you.”
Damon plus determination equals head explosion. How do I deny him after an earnest declaration like that? I need to think. Get my shit in order and figure out what exactly to do with Damon. I’m torn apart, and I have no idea what I really want. I thought I did, I thought I had it all figured out, but now I’m questioning everything.He’smaking me question everything. These are the moments I wish my father was still here. He was always good at helping me see the forest for the trees, and he would definitely be able to advise me about Damon. He knew him better than anybody.
“I need some time to think.” I slide my hands into my hair and ball them into fists. I don’t tighten them too hard, just enough to feel a kiss of pain.
“If that’s what you need, then I’ll give it to you.” He sounds defeated.
“What I need is someone who’s going to want only me,” I abruptly raise my voice.
“What?” Damon is clearly confused.
I stomp over to where his cut and T-shirt are draped over the hotel room chair, fish into the pocket, and pull out the napkin. A huge part of me hoped it wouldn't be there. That he just threw it away. But sadly, it is. Charging back at him, I slam it against his bare chest, right over the colorful phoenix tattooed on his left pec. “Violet,” I mock.
Damon takes a step back from the force of my hand, then grabs for the wrinkly napkin.
He looks down at it and scoffs. A strange array of expressions intersecting on his face. “Liv, this . . .” He seems to be searching for words. “This is nothing.” He crumbles the napkin and tosses it across the room. “I wasn’t even going to call her.”
“Then what’s the point of getting her number?”
Damon just shrugs. “Old habits die hard?”
