Right away, I recognized the cross on the rosary.
It was Damon’s. The one he wore in high school, and the one he had in the fountain when we were kids.
The other object was metal, with a sharp clasp, and a design on it. A hair barrette.
And then a memory flashed—me taking this out of my hair. Why did I give this to him?
The rosary, the barrette, the fountain…
I bit him.
What?
The memory was so fleeting, but it was vivid and strong. “I’d bitten him that day,” I said out loud, realization flooding back. “Before we went to the treehouse. He let me bite him in the fountain. He was glad I did it. Why?”
What were we doing in that fountain? And why was it more important to Damon than what happened afterward in the treehouse?
Leaving the box and bag, I carried the items with me back out in the corridor, retracing my steps.
“Winter?” I heard Rika’s voice.
“Hey,” I replied, holding out my hand for her.
“Did you get lost?” she asked, coming over for me to take her arm.
But I just shook my head. “Just exploring,” I told her. “Would you take me to the bathroom, please?”
“Are you okay?”
“I hope so,” I joked.
I had no idea how to answer that, and the way my life had been going, the answer could be different in five minutes. Ask me later.
Right now, though, I just needed another shower. The floors in that part of the catacombs were non-renovated and filthy.
And then there was last night, so…
She walked us both to the spacious bathroom, and I found the vanity chair and lowered myself into the seat.
“Are they still in bed?” she asked, messing with some items in the cabinet.
I opened my mouth to tell her ‘yes’, but then the nature of her question hit me, and I froze.
Are they still in bed? There was more than one bedroom down here, I was sure. Why would I know if Will was still in bed?
Unless…
“You heard,” I said, my shoulders slumping a little.
I couldn’t catch a break. I’d never had much of a sex life, but when I did, everyone knew everything.
“I heard a little,” she said, and I could hear the amusement in her tone.
“Michael, too?”
When she didn’t answer, I knew.
Dammit.
“It’s okay,” she soothed, coming over and dabbing something on my forehead. I hissed at the sting of a cut I didn’t realize I had. Must’ve gotten it in the accident last night.
I frowned. “What you must think.”
Every moan and cry that left my mouth last night raced through my head, and I was a little mortified. Private things needed to stay private, because not everyone would understand. I could just see her and Michael coming down to make sure we were okay last night and hearing what they heard. It must’ve seemed so shallow.
“I’m thinking… I understand,” she told me. “And you don’t need to explain yourself to me.”
I appreciated her manners, but still…
She cleaned my cut, remaining quiet for a moment, and then affixed a Band-Aid to my hairline.
“Our life is a series of plans,” she finally said. “Days, weeks, months, years… And then, there are moments. Moments you don’t see coming and you don’t plan, but everything you need, all the things you want to feel, are in that moment.”
I listened to her, letting it sink in.
“People come together, and for a tiny space of time,” she went on, “it’s beautiful and raw, because you can’t think and you don’t want to. You just feel.” She paused and then continued. “The moments are what we remember.”
People come together. So…
“You and Michael and…?”
“Kai,” she answered quietly. “Before he was married, of course.”
She put the first aid stuff away, refastening a cap and closing the box.
“So believe me when I say I understand,” she explained. “Men don’t feel ashamed for enjoying sex on their terms. You shouldn’t either.”
I gave her a little smile, thankful we all had our secrets.
“You have some marks on your neck,” she told me. “Just an FYI.”
Marks? Like hickeys?
Splendid.
“So have you forgiven him?” she asked.
“Who?”
“Damon.”
I thought for a moment and let out a long sigh. Now that was a question.
“Yes,” I replied. “No…I don’t know. I’ve been angry for so long. But I love him.”
“You just don’t know if you can trust him.”
“I don’t know if I should,” I clarified.
Should I entirely?
I wanted to trust him, and there were things I would never doubt.
I knew he’d always come for me. I knew he loved me. I knew that however long this lasted, it would probably be the happiest and most miserable I’d ever been. He made me so angry, I wanted to punch him.
But then there was nothing like kissing him.
I shouldn’t forgive him. That was the textbook answer.
But I didn’t want to ever be without him, so in reality… There was never a question of forgiving him.
“Will you forgive me?” she suddenly asked.
I pinched my brows together, confused. “For what?”
She fell silent, and I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until my lungs started to ache.
“I gave Damon the information on your father,” she finally said.
My face fell, and I didn’t know how to respond. I’d thought Damon was entirely responsible for that, and it was something I’d already gone through the anger for. With Damon and my father.
But knowing she was working with him. That she knew his plans all along and helped him?
“Rika.” A stern voice pierced the silence, and I jumped.
Damon. He was across the room, probably in the doorway, and after a moment, I felt Rika leave my side, walking away.
“Call Banks and Kai,” he told her in a softer voice. “Get them over here. And can you get her something to eat?” And then he added, “Please?”
“We have breakfast laid out upstairs. I’ll bring a plate,” she said. “And some clothes.”
I kind of wished I didn’t have to borrow her clothes now, but I didn’t have a choice. Was I angry with her? She gave Damon information that changed my life forever and sent my father on the run.
But then again, the money we lived off of wasn’t ours, and my father wasn’t a good man.
One way or another Damon would’ve gotten what he wanted. I just didn’t like that more people than just him were in on it. It made me feel like a pawn in a scheme much grander than I knew. Powerless.
And their families weren’t exactly saintly, either, so what right did they have to take mine down?
Damon came over and cupped my face with one hand. I didn’t pull away, but I shifted in my seat, not really in the mood.
He knelt down, coming down to my level. “If you don’t hate me, don’t hate her,” he said. “I had info she needed, and she had what I needed. She regretted giving it to me almost immediately.”
I knew he was right. I shouldn’t hold her to a different standard than I held him.
I’d just already processed my anger with him, and this brought that up again.
He picked up the objects in my hand, and I blinked, remembering I was holding them.
“Why were they here?” I asked.
He didn’t answer immediately, but then told me, “They were safe here, I guess. I didn’t want to leave them at my house when I knew I was going to jail.”
Jail.
For three years.
And I’d been sent back to Montreal to escape the storm and chaos that raged over the town when he, Will, and Kai were sentenced, and to run away from the taunts and whispers of everyone who thought I was a slut.
He lied to me. He shouldn’t have done it, and he paid the price.
But there was so much more than that between us. Buried in the cracks of all the broken things, where the words were always true and days were too long without him.
When no one else could make the world look like he could, and even after years, in the quiet parts of my mind, I missed the feel of his eyes on me.
Maybe on those nights, sneaking into my house and taking me on adventures, was the real Damon Torrance.
I dipped my forehead to his and took my barrette back, clasping it in my hair.
“I need a shower.” I grinned. “Step into my fountain?”
I heard him exhale a laugh, and then he stood up, pulling me into his arms.