I let out my breath and crashed beside Sierra.
The room wasn’t as girly anymore. The pink and cream decor had been replaced with bright, bold pops of color against a soft, neutral backdrop. One wall was covered in chalkboard paint and had a grid of tic-tac-toe games. Damian’s X’s and Sierra’s O’s. The built-in shelves were still the same, but Damian had given them a fresh coat of paint. My eyes lingered on the paper swans that were lined up on them, a comical progression of Sierra’s clumsy attempts, and I realized just how close Damian and Sierra had grown in a short space of time. The room looked like something that Sierra had helped put together. It was brimming with her personality.
I got up and was about to step out of my pants when I looked out the window. Damian was walking down the path that led to the staff wing. He disappeared behind the trees. After a while, a light came on in one of the rooms. MaMaLu’s room. I wondered what he was doing there as I brushed my teeth. When I came back, it was still on. I debated for a moment before putting my shoes on. I wanted to see MaMaLu’s room. She had never let me accompany her there, insisting it wasn’t proper for me to hang around her quarters. Well, tonight was my chance to finally see it.
The door was open when I got there. “Damian?” I peered inside. He wasn’t there, so I let myself in.
The room was small and sparsely furnished. A bare bulb was screwed in to the ceiling. The bed was made up, but the pillow was propped and Damian’s clothes were flung on it. I reached for the Lucky Strike tin that was sitting at the edge of a worn dresser. He had held on to it, his last physical link to MaMaLu.
I knew now why she had not wanted me to visit. I could not imagine the two of them living in this small, tight space while rooms and rooms lay empty in Casa Paloma. I had not understood the distinctions then, but Damian had. He had experienced the other side of wealth and power. It was the reason he wasn’t allowed to attend my birthday parties, the reason why I had private lessons while he hid in the hutch. I would have hated living in the shadow of our big mansion, watching the food other people got to eat, the shiny cars they drove, the parties with music and bright lights. I would have hated my mother being taken away from me, to look after someone else, but Damian had looked past all of that. He had grown to love me. He had never complained or compared, only accepted, and he had gone on accepting until everything was ripped away from him.
Standing in the room he had shared with MaMaLu, I felt like I was wearing his skin. I could see them being torn apart in the middle of the night, the last time he had seen her. Had he seen her? Or had it been too dark? At what point had his faith in the world been broken, the one that every child is born with? Stifling a sob, I turned to leave, the same moment that Damian stepped inside.
He was wiping his face with a towel, and stopped short when he saw me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I shook my head. I should have listened to MaMaLu. I should never have come.
“Skye.”
The way he said it damn near broke me. Damian might be all steel on the outside, but his emotions ran deep. He never did anything halfway. When he hated, he hated with every cell in his body, and when he loved . . . God, when he loved, he said your name like that—like a sigh from his soul, wrapped around his tongue.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I sleep here.”