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Again, his bottom lip trembles and a few tears escape his eyes. He takes off his glasses and sets them on the coffee table. After he’s wiped his face and calmed himself, he starts to tell me about his family.
I’m fucking livid.
Since his mother died, Damon has been living a life of hell. Used for manual labor, talked down to, making him feel like he didn’t belong in his own home. I fucking hate it. I hate hearing it. I hate that I can’t do anything about it while I’m here. It would be too easy to call Quin and Savage and have them take care of it. I want to fucking kill them all myself for what they did to him.
“Michael?” Damon calls me when he finishes talking.
Swallowing my anger, I answer, “Yeah?”
“You’re hurting me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, then loosen my arms from around him.
“It’s okay. I don’t tell anyone this. I told Abel, but that’s only because he told me about his brother. I don’t … trust anyone. They wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh, baby,” I mutter, kissing his forehead. “I grew up in foster care. I understand better than you know. Do you want out? Do you need help to leave?” I stop short of asking if he wants me to put a bullet in their brains.
Damon starts to cry again, and I feel like shit, even though I don’t know why he’s crying. “I’m sorry. It’s just … I want to leave. I do. But I keep hearing my mother’s voice, telling me to take care of her new favorite men. That’s one of the last things she said to me before she left on that flight that took her life. It’s like I hear her voice and I can’t ignore it. It’s like she wants me to stay and be there for them, even when they don’t appreciate me. Whenever I get the courage to go, something happens, and I know it’s because I’m supposed to stay. I want to leave, but I don’t think I can.”
God, I hurt for him. I didn’t have the best upbringing, being in and out of foster homes and sent to a group home from thirteen to eighteen, but I learned to take care of myself. I turned my shitty younger years into anger that carried me far until my body caught up with how big my rage was. Then my fists and size helped me further.
Damon has none of that. He’s so shy and gentle and sweet and innocent. He’s been beat down so much that he believes what he hears. He doesn’t fight back. I want to help him do that. He deserves the world, as well as to feel like he’s worthy. He’s more than worthy.
Tipping his chin up so he meets my eyes, I say, “If you want to leave, say the word. I’ll help. I’ll do everything I can for you. Just say the word.”
Damon slams his eyes shut and he burrows into me again. “I … not right now, Michael. I can barely go to another state myself. I don’t think I can move out on my own. Not yet.”
I grit my teeth, wanting to tell him he’s being abused. That no one there will treat him as well as I can, but he doesn’t need that right now. He needs to make up his mind himself. But he’ll always have me. Even if I have to hide out in California until he’s ready, I will.
The ringing of his phone snaps us out of our thoughts and Damon bites his lip but pulls it from his pocket. A grin lights up his face when he sees the name on the screen. This time, he stays right where he, head on my chest.
“Hey, Abel,” Damon practically sings and I’m happy he’s in better spirits.
“Damon! Oh my god! It’s so good to see your face again!” Abel exclaims, eyes welling immediately. “I’ve missed you, my friend.”
“I missed you too.” The line is silent for a beat, then both Abel and Damon burst into tears and start trying to talk over one another. I rock Damon, rubbing his back to comfort him, even though I know these are happy tears.
They talk for about thirty minutes, their tears drying up at around the five minute mark. They both catch each other up on their lives and I tune them out while I continue to hold Damon. He doesn’t make a move to climb from my lap, and I don’t ask him to. I like him right where he is.
My name being used catches my attention and I turn to the phone to see Abel’s cheeky grin. “Did you hear me?” he asks.
“Can’t say I did,” I say dryly, making Abel laugh.
“I said you two look cozy.”
Looking down at Damon, I see his cheeks are red, but his smile is wide. “Michael is my new favorite muscle pillow.”
Rolling my eyes, I pull him higher so his head is on my shoulder. “Yeah, well, I like being your muscle pillow.”
He ducks his head and peeks at Abel, who’s trying to hold his laughter in. “I won’t hold you two up. Call me later, Damon. You too, Michael. Or you two can call me together. Oh yes! Together!”
I grin at Abel’s exuberance. Damon says he will call and hangs up.
“Feeling better?” I ask.
“Much. Abel used to always make me feel better when I told him about the stuff going on at home. He’s really good at that.”
Leaning away from me, Damon stretches and slides off my lap. “I want to try these on,” he says, pointing to his bags. “I was going to in the stores, but I didn’t want other people laughing at me if I looked ridiculous.”
