Damien, Forever (An Art of Sinners Novel)

by Tempest Phan

  “Will you just sit here like a coward while the girl of your dreams, the one you’ve loved since you were in fucking diapers, that girl rides off into the sunset with some dude she doesn’t even love? You can’t let that happen. As your friend, I’m here to tell you—”

  “Enough!” My savage roar startled me. I jumped to my feet, hands fisted tightly at my sides, nearly out of control. I breathed in deeply and stared him down. “Enough,” more softly this time.

  “No, Dame. I love you, and I can’t stand seeing you broken over this. You love her. You fucking love her. Everything you’ve ever done. Your songs. The fucking ink on your fucking arm, on your fucking back. On your fucking heart. It’s all about her. You love her. She has to know. You can’t let her slip away.”

  “She deserves better than me. And she’s found him.”

  Stone.

  “I can’t take that away from her.” I fell back a few steps, disoriented, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands.

  “She deserves the man she loves, Dame. And again, it’s not that viking dude.”

  I leaned an arm against the wall, burying my face against it.

  “You don’t understand, Syn. This girl, she deserves all that is good in the world.”

  I turned back to the sofa and crumpled down onto it. Seconds ticked by, and I felt Syn’s warm hand on my shoulder.

  “She does, Dame.” His hand was still on me. “And why can’t that be you?” He squeezed my shoulder. “I can’t even begin to understand what goes on in that crazy mind of yours, but believe me when I say that there isn’t a better man out there. You’re worthy. I know this. She knows this. You were worthy then. And you are worthy now, more than ever. After all the fucking work you put into fixing your shit.” He took a deep breath. “Don’t make the mistake of letting this girl walk out of your life because you have some misguided, misplaced sense of guilt. I don’t know her, but I know you. I’m lucky enough to be able to call you friend. A girl who elicits this kind of passion in you has got to be special. And a girl like that wouldn’t give a fuck about your past.”

  I remained silent, my eyes clamped shut, Syn’s hand still burning my shoulder.

  “She’s known you since you were kids, Dame,” he continued. “Have you thought that perhaps she already knows everything there is to know? And she hasn’t run away, at least not without you pushing her away. Give it a chance. She’s yours. Only yours.”

  She’s yours. Only yours.

  I’ll wait until you’re ready, my Damien James.

  Ready? I so fucking was. After all the years working to make something of myself. After all the time in rehab and therapy. After all of this, for her. Always for her. I was. I finally was. For her.

  I looked up. “Leave before I fucking trash your face, Syn.”

  He looked at me, must have seen something in my blurry eyes, before nodding, grabbing his jacket, and heading toward the door.

  “And Syn,” I said, not turning around. “Thanks, asshole.”

  “Yeah,” he whispered and walked out.

  I sat there for what seemed like hours, but really, it was only minutes. I’d already waited nearly ten years, more than enough for a lifetime.

  I picked up her letter again, looked at her beloved handwriting, turned it over. And that’s when I saw her little scribble on the back:

  PS: MDJ, I’ll keep you in my heart instead. Kisses and bites.

  My heart, which I’d thought broken beyond repair, started to thump like a kick drum inside my chest.

  And everything Syn had said now made more sense than ever. She wasn’t marrying Lukas for love. How could she when she loved . . . me.

  I’ll keep you in my heart instead . . . Her lyrics to My Girl Next Door, a message to me through the passing years.

  What other fucking signs did I need?

  She was mine, just like I’d been hers from the time we were seven and she’d stuck a pack of cookies in my backpack.

  In that instant, I knew what I needed to do.

  I jumped off the bed, grabbed my keys, and flung the door open, coming up short as my eyes took in all the ink and leather and metal staring at me from across the hallway.

  All the members of My Tell-Tale Heart were leaning lazily against the wall, waiting. Syn was smacking his gum. Crash was running his hands over his spikes. And Luce was staring intently at his nails, painted blue to match his hair. All three looked up.

  Syn nodded toward the elevator bank as Crash and Luce slapped me on the back.

  “Come on, motherfucker. We’ll drive.”

  And it suddenly hit this dumbass that, somehow, the boy who’d had nothing but shadows and pain growing up, was now surrounded by some of the very best friends anyone could have wished for. Saint. Syn. Crash and Lucien. And now, maybe, Bella, Bella, Bella.

  Damien

  She hasn’t run away, at least not without you pushing her away.

  The boys dropped me off right in front of the church, and I ran like a maniac, the deafening pounding of my heart in my ears.

  Don’t let it be too late. Please don’t let it be too late.

  I reached the door and threw it open. It took me a second to take the scene in around me. There she was, standing at the altar next to him. All heads slowly turned toward me, followed by soft gasps.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” This, from her father as I rushed down the length of the aisle.

  Slowly, she spun around, making me forget how to breathe. Standing there in a cascade of white silk and chiffon, her dark hair pulled back from her face, her enormous eyes looking at me in disbelief. It took me back to that time, so long ago, when I’d stared at her across a crowded dance floor, as she stood as she did now, in her soft and delicate beauty, in another man’s arms. She’d been seventeen and not mine then either. Never mine. As I looked at her, my love for her thrumming through my veins, a love beyond madness, beyond right and wrong. I loved her more than my own breath, more than my own life.

  My voice came out like thunder, and I yelled out, “Bella, God knows I’ve been the biggest jackass, but I love you. I love you more than I will ever be able to put into words, and I want to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

  Her dad was on me. He was accompanied by a vaguely familiar dark-haired man with green eyes and a slight limp. They grabbed me and tried to pull me back.

  “Daddy, stop.” When he didn’t listen, she said again, more forcefully, “Stop it, dammit.” He let go and spun around to look at her. They all did.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned to Lukas, gently touching his cheek. In a dream, I heard her say softly, “Lukas, I’m so sorry . . . Lukas . . .”

  He closed his eyes and I thought I heard him murmur, “I was wrong. I suppose I can’t love you enough for the both of us . . .” Then, he gently removed her hand from his cheek, pausing ever slightly to look at her before turning away and walking down the steps, shoulders rigid. He stopped in front of me, his eyes broken, made a move as if to say something, but then thought better of it. In long strides, he headed for the entrance, the tall, dark-haired man upon him as they exited the church.

  And then Bella was rushing down the altar steps, bypassing her incredulous father and the gasping crowd. She threw herself into my arms, and I held her like a drowning man holds on to his salvation.

  “You came back,” she whispered in my ear.

  “I’ll never leave you again,” I replied. “Ever.” I closed my eyes and breathed her in deeply, feeling her scent of blossom and light settle deep inside my soul. And suddenly, all those deep gashes inside my heart, tattered and broken for so long, closed up, making me feel whole for the first time in my life. “Sweet baby girl, I am . . . for you. Always and forever.”

  ***

  Bella

  Lynda was sitting out front with the members of My Tell-Tale Heart by her side. For a split second, I even imagined what that looked like. My sweet, Chanel-wearing Lynda next to all of those mohawks and spikes, talk
ing about the weather and how they liked to take their tea. I smiled in spite of the tension in the room.

  All of the other guests had gone. Only Damien, my father, and I remained. We were inside the small dressing room in the back of the church. My father sat on a bench, his head lowered, his elbows on his thighs. He hadn’t said a thing.

  I sat next to him, the silk and chiffon from my dress spilling in a sea of white around us.

  “Daddy,” I said softly.

  He did not acknowledge me.

  “Daddy, I am sorry for this.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. He continued to ignore me. “But I’m not sorry for choosing Damien. He is my life.” I glanced sideways to Damien, who was looking out the window, his arms crossed over his chest. “All of these years, I never said a word, but now I will say them out loud. Damien is the love of my life. He’s been since we were seventeen. I should have said something then, instead of running away from any conversation with you.”

  My dad just breathed in deeply but still did not respond.

  I continued, starting to lose faith that I would ever get through to him. “I love him, Daddy. And I love you. I know that you’ve only ever wanted the best for me. And I’m telling you, this is what it all looks like. I’m sorry it had to happen this way. Maybe you won’t forgive me, but I needed you to know.”

  He finally looked up, and I could see the tears in his eyes. “You’re everything I have. How can I ever look at myself again, knowing that I wasn’t able to protect you? I promised your mom I would always protect you. And look. Look!” He didn’t even raise his voice, just shook his head before covering his mouth with his hand.

  “I know that all Mama cared about was for me to be happy, Daddy. And I am. I’m so sorry about the firm, but I need to do this for myself.” I took his hand in mine, a hand that was still so strong and hard, still clenching stubbornly until he eased it somewhat to let me hold it.

  “It was never about the firm, Mira.” He placed his other hand over his eyes, shielding their depths from me.

  I nearly recoiled, realizing that once again, my father had tried to manipulate me. I looked at his broken form, felt the despair ripple around him, and understood. My father loved me deeply. His misguided actions had, of course, been his way to try and ensure my happiness. He was who he was and hadn’t known any other way. But today I was looking forward, not back. With the love of my life now by my side, it was easy to forgive.

  “I am happy, Daddy,” I repeated gently.

  He dropped his hands and stared at me, eyes bright with unshed tears.

  “He’s not good enough for you!” He did shout, this time. Damien was still staring outside, but his shoulders tensed.

  “Who are you to say? If you only knew the kind of man he is. And it’s not even about who he is now. It’s about who he’s always been. If you only saw how he’s always taken care of everything, everyone around him, no matter how broken.” I reached out to touch my father’s cheek, trying to force him to look at me. He continued to avoid my gaze. “If you only knew. You’d love him like I do.” I touched his cheek again, but still, he refused to look at me. “Daddy, he saved me. He saved me on a dark and terrible night. If he hadn’t been there . . .”

  I shook my head. My dad returned my stare, this time. And all of the emotions he’d ever withheld from me tumbled out of his glacier eyes. Anguish, pain, devastation. Self-flagellation.

  “He might have stopped Hunting, but he’s still not good enough, Mira.” And he pushed my hand away, shaking his head as the tears finally spilled out.

  Damien slowly turned. Our eyes met and danced, and I couldn’t help but feel a jolt of pure electricity and love from the impact of his adoring gaze.

  He ran a hand through his hair and slowly ambled over. He stood over us for the space of a few heartbeats before crouching down, placing a hand on my father’s shoulder and meeting his stare straight on.

  “You’re right, Mr. Davenport. I’m not good enough for Bella,” he started as I gasped softly. He continued, “No one is. But I swear to you. I listened. I cleaned up my act. I have the means. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it all up to her. I love her, Mr. Davenport. Since that first day I came over when I was seven and took her to the park. She’s the love of my life. So believe me when I say I’ll do everything in my power to make sure the universe revolves around her. Because to me, it does.”

  My dad just shook his head.

  “I love her the way you still love her mom. That kind of once-in-a-lifetime love, Mr. Davenport,” Damien whispered.

  My father tensed. He covered his eyes with a hand and started to sob softly.

  Damien and I just sat next to him, our hands on his shoulders. We sat there until the sun began to set.

  Finally, my father looked up to me, reached out with a trembling hand to gently caress my cheek. “I’m sorry. You are so loved, Mirabella.” His voice trembled and he shook his head. “I love you,” he corrected. “But I will need time.”

  Then he turned to Dame, nodded, and said in a steadier tone, “Damien, take good care of her,” before standing up with some difficulty and walking away.

  Bella

  I laid in Damien’s arms. Never mind that it was a hotel room. I’d never felt more at home than in the last hours of being held close to his heart. My own was bursting with joy, with love. He was now mine.

  After all these years. After the wrong choices, the tears, the heartbreak. After hoping against hope that he’d finally see.

  Mine.

  Only one thing tainted this moment, and it was what I’d done to Lukas. My one single, selfish act. I’d hurt him so I could seize my happiness with both hands. One day, I hoped he’d forgive and heal. I hoped he’d find his own true love, too, because it had never been me.

  I looked into Damien’s eyes. He smiled at me, running a hand softly down my arm. “I’m so sorry for all the broken promises, Bella baby. I’m so sorry that I disappeared when I promised I wouldn’t. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when I swore to you I would be . . .”

  I placed a finger against his lush lips. “And I’m sorry for not waiting when I promised you I would. But that’s all in the past, my Damien James. There is nothing to forgive.”

  I disentangled myself from his beloved arms and placed the whisper of a kiss on his cheek, feeling the hard stubble graze my lips.

  “Wait here for a second,” I whispered as I pushed myself up to walk to the desk. I looked back to him, saw his eyes darken as he drank in my naked body. I smiled at him as I grabbed an old box from the bottom of my purse and pulled out the locket, that locket from when we were seventeen, the locket I’d carried everywhere with me since that dark day when he’d left me.

  I traipsed back to him and gently grabbed his great big hand with his fingernails still painted black and placed the necklace against his palm.

  He brought it closer to him, slowly examining the trinket. Years ago, I’d added his initials to those he’d had engraved before storing it all away in my heart, along with any hopes that he’d ever be mine.

  “I return my heart to you for safekeeping, my Damien James. It’s always belonged to you,” I whispered, running my fingers lightly down his cheek.

  He placed the necklace down on the side table, closing his eyes tightly.

  When he finally reopened them, I saw in them all I would ever need to know.

  “Baby doll,” he said softly. “Are you sure?”

  I pressed closer against him. “Yes, my heart.”

  “This feels right, but I know that it won’t fix everything. Even though I am trying, trying so fucking hard . . . There will be dark nights, dark days. I don’t know that I can ever be fully fixed.”

  I knew about all that he’d done to get well, what he would continue to do. I knew without a doubt that he had indeed saved himself, no matter what he thought or said.

  “Dame, I love you. In a hundred languages and more. Inside out. As you are. I’m not looking to fix you. I�
�d wanted to save you like you’d saved me, but I was never looking to fix you. I just want to hold you until it all passes. Every single time. I will always be by your side.”

  He breathed in deeply. “What have I done to deserve you?”

  “Everything. You were always meant to be mine. I adore you, my Damien James Mortensen.” With that, I leaned over and kissed him deeply, until he moaned against me and flipped us so he was now on top.

  “I adore you, baby girl,” he whispered, his broad shoulders blocking out the world above me, his soft words filling my soul as he entered me, driving himself home.

  Home.

  With me. Where he’d always belonged.

  ***

  Damien

  She wasn’t looking to fix me.

  Of course not.

  She’d only wanted to hold me through my dark night.

  How could it all be so simple? All these years of fighting the natural order of things just so I could mend myself, prove myself, only to realize that she wasn’t looking for me to be anything but who I was, had always been. That I could have had her against my heart from the time we were seventeen.

  Because she was always meant to be mine, too.

  “I adore you, baby girl,” I whispered, my heart bursting with all the love I felt for her, as I entered her, driving myself home.

  Home.

  With her. Where I’d always belonged.

  ***

  Six Months Later

  Bella

  We just left Bouchette where my dad, Lynda, and Annette, Damien’s mom, joined us for brunch, a monthly rendezvous we’ve all tried to make no matter where Damien’s touring and my foundation work take us. The threads are still fragile, nearly gossamer, but they are there, as we softly weave our once-lost parents back into our lives. Damien even had a tête-à-tête outside with my father before we said goodbye. I watched as my father had tentatively placed his hand on my boyfriend’s back, gently patting it. Their relationship will never be what he has with Lukas, but it is enough.