I finally met his eyes. They were steady, calm, but the lines on his forehead told me he was more upset than he was letting on.
"Why haven't you?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I keep wanting to. Every time I see her the words are right there in my mouth, just ready to blurt out." Damon eyed me carefully, gauging my mood. "But I know it would be better coming from you."
"I know," I said quietly. I grasped the folders tighter. "I know. You're right. I need to tell her."
Damon ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "If I'm right, then why have you been blowing me off?"
There was a pause before identical smiles crept across our lips at the innuendo. His eyes were so clear, so bright, yet deep at the same time. That same familiar feeling of falling came over me. It was dizzying. Disorientating.
I was always in over my head when it came to this man.
I cast my eyes down, gaze fixating on the pointed toes.
"At first I didn't want to talk to you because I was angry," I admitted. "I couldn't believe you had the audacity to think you could dictate the terms of my relationship with my sister."
"Mm, using big words again." Damon smirked. "Get mad at me some more."
"I'm not mad at you," I said. "Not now. I just…" I averted my gaze. "I was embarrassed," I mumbled.
Damon frowned. "Embarrassed about what?"
"The way I reacted." My face grew hot, bright red and flushed. "It was childish, just like you said. After all the times I told you to act like an adult, I go and throw a fit like a little kid throwing a tantrum."
Damon stared at me. "Is that why?" He chuckled, loud and long. "Faith, you call that a tantrum? Shit." His cheeks spread wide. "I'm glad you never saw how pissy I acted around Hope when she first started dating my brother. I was like a five year old sulking over his toy being taken away."
"Just because you act like that doesn't mean I should."
"Remember what I told you?" he said gently. "You don't have to be the mature one all the time."
"Yes I do," I said stubbornly.
A look of consternation crossed his face. He opened his mouth to argue.
My cell phone rang. I took it out of my pocket and put it to my ear, not bothering to apologize. I was at work. Technically Damon was the one interrupting me.
A woman's voice on the other side asked for me. I frowned, confused. Didn't she know this was my cell phone?
She continued speaking. My heart sank. My fingers went numb, phone nearly falling from my hand. The flush on my face faded, replaced by a cold, clammy sensation.
Damon looked alarmed. "Faith, what the hell—?"
I lowered the phone. "It's my father." I hear myself speaking the words distantly. Something inside me didn't quite register them as real. "He's in the hospital." Tears pricked the back of my eyes. "I have to go. Now." I took in a shuddering breath, forcing back the tears. "Shit, the event starts in a few hours."
Damon took me in his arms. He ran a soothing hand up and down my back. I let him.
"It's okay. Don't think about that now." He turned his head. "Kat!" he yelled out.
"Yeah?" I heard her respond from across the stadium field.
"We've got to go," he hollered. "Think you can handle the event by yourself tonight?"
There was absolute silence. Then—
"Um. Sure. Yeah. Okay." Her voice trembled. "I can do that. Totally. I can totally do this. Yes. I can." Her voice steadied, sounding firmer, resolute. "You go do whatever you need to do. Don't worry. I've got this."
"Thanks Kat, owe you a million." Damon took me by the shoulders, making me look at him. Tears gathered along my lash line, but hadn't yet fallen. "We're going now. Okay?"
"Okay," I said in a small voice. "You don't have to come—"
"Don't be silly," he said. "Of course I'm coming with you."
The tears did fall then. Damon squeezed my hand.
"Let's go," he said. "I'll be right beside you."
Chapter Thirty-One
"You should sit," Damon said.
I paced back and forth in the hospital waiting room. My fingers tapped against my hip in a rapid fire tempo. Damon tracked me with his gaze.
"You're making me dizzy," he added.
"I hate hospitals."
The last time I'd been in one had been when my mom died. We'd been in the waiting room for hours as they operated on her, hoping, praying, wishing, only to be told by a doctor with a sympathetic face that he was sorry, but there was nothing they could do.
This time, I'd gotten a call from the mom of the kid next door who mowed the lawn. All I'd been told was Dad had fallen down the stairs and had been found unconscious. So here I was again, back at a hospital, waiting for news.
Damon stood, intercepting me as I whirled around on my heel, changing direction yet again. He took my hands in his.
"Sit," he urged. "Pacing won't make the doctor come any faster."
"It makes me feel better."
He pressed his fingers to the pulse points in my inner wrists. My veins throbbed under his touch.
"All it's doing is raising your blood pressure," he said.
"I can't sit still."
"You want to sneak off and fuck in the storage closet?" he asked, completely serious.
I snorted out a laugh, my lips curling up despite myself. "It's not really the time or the place."
"I can always make time for that sweet puss—"
"Ms. Briars?"
The doctor was here. I took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Whatever she had to tell me, I could handle it, good news or bad.
But I recognized the sympathetic look on the woman's face. My throat closed up.
"I can give you an update on your father," she said. She flicked her gaze to Damon. "Would you like to go somewhere private?"
Damon's hand squeezed mine once. I knew he'd go along with whatever I wanted. I squeezed back.
"No, it's okay. He can be here when you tell me."
She nodded. "Luckily, he didn't take any severe damage to his head when he fell down the stairs. No concussion to worry about. Unfortunately, he broke both legs. There were several fractures. We had to do emergency surgery. He's going to be out of commission for quite some time." She looked at me with worry in her eyes. "I won't lie, there's going to be a long recovery period. He'll need someone to look after him almost constantly."
The lump in my gut turned sour.
"Would you like to see him?" The doctor looked at me expectantly. "He's still sedated from the surgery, but some part of him might like to know you're here."
I ran shaky hands through my hair, smoothing it down. "Um. Maybe I'll wait until he wakes up."
"We'll have someone call you when he's conscious." The doctor gave me one last sympathetic smile and left.
I stood silently, watching her retreating back. I began to tremble, fighting back a sob.
Damon cupped my face. ""Hey. It's okay."
I sniffed and rubbed my eyes with my palms. He tipped my chin up and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
"Everything's fine," he said. "It's just a few broken bones."
"It's not fine," I mumbled.
Damon tilted his head questioning.
"You heard what she said," I told him, voice shaky with unshed tears. "Long recovery period. Constant monitoring. I'm already— I can't—" The tears finally, splashing down my face, warm and wet. "I can't do this," I whispered.
Damon tugged me into his arms. "You don't have to do this alone." He pressed another kiss to the crown of my head. "Call your sister," he said, voice muffled by my hair. "She needs to know. You can't keep this from her."
I nodded miserably, then shook my head. "I can't. I lied to her for so long. She'll hate me."
"She won't hate you," Damon said gently. "Hope's too nice for that. She didn't even hate me when I was an asshole to her. And believed me, I deserved it." Damon pulled back to meet my eyes. "Do you want me to call her? I can tell her some of the story. Give he
r time to process it before she shows up."
A fresh flood streamed down my face at the offer. "Since when are you thoughtful like that?" I gave him a small, teary, smile.
"Hey, I get the urge to be thoughtful sometimes." Damon winked. "I just usually ignore it."
That made me laugh, which was probably his aim.
Damon sat me down in a plastic waiting room chair and walked a few paces away to call Hope. His words were hushed and murmured, so I couldn't hear what he was telling her.
After the phone call me came back to sit next to me. He took my hand again. We waited silently.
My sister arrived twenty minutes later. She rushed into the waiting room with Ian at her side. She stopped abruptly when she saw us there. Hope stared at me for a moment, her face unreadable. I cringed back when our eyes met.
Her gaze went soft. She knelt in front of me and wrapped me in a warm hug, her arms around my neck. I let out a shuddering breath and buried my face in her long, messy hair.
"I'm sorry," I choked out before she could say anything.
"You dummy," she said softly. "What were you thinking, keeping this from me?"
"I didn't want you to get hurt."
She shocked her head ruefully. "Do I have to give you the same speech my boyfriend gave your boyfriend?"
"He's not my—" I began to protest.
I stopped. Was Damon my boyfriend? That was what he'd told Dad. But then we'd gotten into that fight and now…
I glanced at him. Damon and Ian were giving each other looks, communicating silently. They both had frowns on their face, looking exasperated at each other.
"I guess all twins do that, huh?" Hope mused. She turned her attention back to me. "Damon told me most of the story, but I want to hear it from you. Dad's been sick for a while?"
"Not sick, really. Just… non-functional. I've been trying to take care of him. But it's been hard," I admitted. "And now, the doctor said Dad's going to need so much care and—"
"Faith." My sister stopped me with a sharp look. "You don't have to do this alone. We'll hire someone."
"Don't you think I've thought of that?" I asked. "Personal support workers are expensive. Dad hasn't worked in years. You've been stuck doing unpaid internships since you left school. I'm only an Events Specialist, not even a manager. There's no money left over after his mortgage and our rent and…"
She flicked my forehead with her finger.
I frowned, rubbing the spot. "What was that for?"
"Did you forget who I'm dating?" Hope nodded toward Ian, who was still staring silently at his brother. He and Damon weren't still frowning at each other, at least. "Ian has more money than he knows what to do with."
"I'm not taking his—"
"And I've got my own job now," she continued, speaking over my objections. "I'm working at Darkest Days' label. Entertainment companies pay pretty well, when you're working with a famous band like them."
"You shouldn't have to be worrying about all this," I said.
"Neither should you," she countered. Hope sighed and brought our foreheads together. "Why are you so stubborn?" she asked gently.
"That's what I'm always wondering," Damon said, joining the conversation. "Someone need to keep her from working herself to death."
"And why do I have a feeling you're going to be the one to do just that?" Hope teased.
Damon grinned. He threw his arm around my shoulder and pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to my cheek.
"Gross." I made a face of disgust and pretended to wipe the kiss away, but secretly I was pleased at the public display of affection.
Having sex in public was one thing. Showing tender affection, especially in front of his brother, was another.
Maybe he really was my boyfriend.
"So you agree?" Hope asked me. "No more shouldering all this on your own. No more enabling him. We get someone to take over watching over Dad. You don't need to run his life anymore. Okay?"
For the first time, that lump of anxiety and dread that I felt in my chest whenever I thought of Dad began to fade. "Yeah. Okay."
"Ms. Briars?" A nurse with a kind smile poked her head around the hallway corner. "Your father is awake now if you and your sister would like to see him."
That lump threatened to solidify again. Hope laid a hand on my shoulder.
"Let's go see him," she urged. "We need to talk this out." She squeezed my shoulder. "You need to talk this out. You've been the one taking care of him this whole time."
I inhaled a shaky breath. I nodded.
"Yeah. Let's go talk to Dad."
Chapter Thirty-Two
Our father was reclining in bed with a pillow propping him up. His legs were in traction, both with pure white casts. His face was pale, washed out.
Hope walked through the doorway first. His face registered surprise. He hadn't seen my sister in a year or more.
At least he could still tell us apart.
"Hi Dad. How are you feeling?" she asked.
He stared at her, then flicked his gaze to me as I shuffled in awkwardly behind her. He lowered his eyes, avoiding mine. He didn't reply.
"Has the doctor talked to you yet?" Hope continued, as if the room wasn't rife with tension.
Dad nodded shortly.
"You're going to need a lot of care," she said matter of factly. "And it's not fair to make Faith take care of you the way she's been doing. We're going to hire someone to look after you."
He nodded again.
Hope looked to me. I shrugged helplessly. I'd never known how to act around Dad, other than to pretend everything was fine. She leaned in to whisper to me.
"You need to talk to him," she murmured.
My hands shook, anxiety rising back up in my chest.
This had gone on too long. Hope was right. I had to say something.
I turned to Dad.
"Why won't you look at us?" I asked.
Dad froze, looking alarmed, no doubt at how forthright I'd been.
"I know it was hard for you, right after Mom died, but it's been years," I said, not unkindly. "You need to see someone. A therapist, a doctor, someone who can help."
Our father's face twisted with distaste.
"Faith is right," Hope jumped in. "I had no idea things had gotten this bad. If I had, I would have insisted on your going into therapy sooner. It was one thing when you threw yourself into your work, but this is different. You need help."
"I know I've been taking care of you all this time, but I just…" My voice turned choked. "I just can't do it anymore. I'm sorry, but I can't—" I had to stop, blinking back tears.
Dad looked up. He met my eyes. He was silent for long moments. Then…
"You were always the strong one," he said murmured.
I flinched. "What?"
He didn't say anything further. He shifted on the bed, turning away from me.
Just like he always did.
My temper got the better of me. I snapped.
"No," I said firmly. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to sink into silence and pretend I'm not here. Tell me what you meant."
Dad took in a deep, heavy breath. I didn't think he was going to answer. Finally, he turned back to us. His eyes were pained.
"After your mother died…" He spoke slowly, each word painstakingly chosen. "I fell apart," he admitted. "And then I lost the job. The one thing that kept me distracted. And Faith…" He flicked his eyes from mine to Hope's and back again. "You tried so hard to take care of me." He swallowed hard. "I tried, too. I would try so hard to get back to rights. Get proper sleep, eat proper food, get up and try to live a normal life." His eyes glistened. "But then something would remind me of her and I'd sink back down." Despite everything, seeing that pained gaze make my heart ache. "But I knew I could always count on you."
Confusion and doubt and pain fought a battle for dominance in my chest.
"If you felt that way, why did you always avoid me?" I asked, breath hitching. "Why did you refuse to talk to me?
Why did you—"
My throat closed shut. Dad cast his eyes down, keeping them trained on the bed.
"I'm sorry," he said, but he didn't elaborate. Didn't explain why.
I forced myself to speak. "Why did you treat me like that?"
His mouth trembled. "I was ashamed," he said quietly. "Ashamed you had to see me like that. Ashamed I needed to be looked after like that."
Seeing those trembling lips, the closest to an emotion I'd seen on Dad in a long time, set something loose inside me. The tears pricking the back of my eyes fell down my cheeks.
"I never imagined you felt that way," I said. "I thought you hated me. Hated us."
"I could never hate you," he said. His voice was now as pained as his eyes. "You're my girls. My Hope and Faith. You're the only reason I didn't give up completely."
I sniffed back the tears. "I want you to get better. I want to help you get better. Just tell me what to do."
He let out a shaky breath. "You shouldn't have to do anything. Hope is right. You've been taking care of me long enough. It's time I took responsibility for myself."
"Does that mean…?" I trailed off.
"It means you're right," he said reluctantly. "I should see someone." His lips turned up, just the slightest bit. "It's about time I stopped relying on you so much."
Fresh tears sprang to my eyes.
"We'll make the arrangements," Hope said, taking over now that I was in tears. "We'll hire a personal support worker to look after you while you're in your casts, and we'll make an appointment with a therapist."
He nodded, but this time it wasn't silently.
"I'm so sorry, girls." The words were louder, stronger now. "I know I wasn't there for you the way I should have been." He gestured to his legs. "When I had my fall, the only thing I could think of was Faith coming home to see me lying there and—" He pressed his lips together and exhaled a heavy breath through his nose.
"Do you think…" I started to ask, hesitating. "Damon and Ian are waiting in the hallway. Do you want to meet them?"
He cringed back on himself, tipping his chin to his chest, shame-faced. "Not… not yet." He rubbed his chin, pads of his fingertips scratching at the stubble. "Not like this, while I'm in here."
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