by A. J. Pryor
He’s right. If I don’t have a job, and my family is gone, why would I stay? I’ve always wanted to leave, and now I have the chance to start over some place new. I have a few months’ worth of savings. It would be entirely possible for me to leave. But the idea gives me a sudden sense of panic, and my heart sinks at the thought as the image of a dark-haired man with dark eyes and abs that crave my touch fill my mind. The thought of his face, the memory of his lips pressed to mine, his hands skimming over my skin are like a bucket of ice water over my head, clearing the cobwebs Matt has started to spin in my brain. I have to talk to Damian. I need him to tell me why he lied.
Suddenly sitting here with Matt feels very uncomfortable.
Lost in my own head, I don’t realize his face is in front of mine, his cheek sliding against my own, his lips moving to my ear. “Addison, please don’t shut me out.” His warm breath tickles my skin, and his hands, which had been on my thighs are now grasping me around the waist.
“I have to go,” I say as I stand and step back from his touch.
He pulls back in surprise. “Did you not hear anything I just said?”
Throwing my purse over my shoulder, I make sure I have his full attention. “I heard it all, but I still have to go.”
Racing towards the exit, I’m almost outside when he calls my name. “Addison!”
I turn, not sure what else there is to say.
Slowly he walks in my direction. “Will you at least think about not completely closing the door on us?”
Wanting to get out of there, I give the only answer that comes to my mind. “Sure.”
My front door slams into the wall with a bang. Jumping off my couch, I’m surprised to see Addison storming into my apartment. She doesn’t look happy.
“How did Emily’s mom die?” The underlying tone of accusation in her voice is putting me on edge and I have to wonder if Thomas spilled information from that sealed file.
“I told you. In a car accident.”
Addison’s hands are curled up by her sides, her shoulders raised and tense. Her eyes lowered and there is absolutely no smile anywhere on her face. It looks like she’s possibly been crying. I take a step towards her and she puts her hand out to stop me.
Her eyes close. “When?”
Addison is shaking. She’s not wearing a coat and the March wind has done a number on her hair. I ignore her protest at my advances and walk past her, into my kitchen and begin to make us both some coffee, it’s going to be a long night.
“Are you going to answer me?” Her voice is trembling and it’s painstaking to watch her fumble for something to hold on to, some tether that’s going to make this conversation all right.
“No.”
She turns, her lips pursed in anger, her eyes wide in disbelief. “No? Why not?”
Pulling two black mugs from my cabinet, I set them on the counter and lower my head. “Because it’s not my story to tell.”
Quickly advancing on me, she’s right in front of my face. “Well whose story is it, because I got fired today standing up for you, and I want to know if I made the biggest mistake of my life!”
Shit. I drop my head in complete and total helplessness. I’ve kept Megan’s story for six years, protected her identity—protected her daughter. Spilling it now feels wrong, but losing Addison, not trusting her, feels even worse.
“It’s Megan’s story. Emily’s mom.”
“You knew her?” Addison’s voice cracks, and her eyes fill with tears. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Emily’s mom?”
“Addison, I can’t tell you anything about Megan Jones.”
“Why not?” She’s looking at me with such distrust and I know, my heart’s about to break.
“You loved her, didn’t you?” She whispers it, a slight fear evident in her voice.
I take a deep breath and back away from her. “Yes. But not the way you think.”
Addison scrunches up her eyes in confusion. “Tell me who she was. I need to know.”
Shaking my head, I don’t respond.
“Damian! Why won’t you tell me?”
“I don’t want him to know I exist. He can’t know anything about me.”
“Okay. I promise I won’t tell him.”
“Ever.” She repeats.
I laugh at her childlike need for me to promise this. Placing my hand over my heart, I look her in the eyes. “I promise Megan Jones, I will never tell anyone that you existed. You will be my little secret.”
I can’t give her the answer she wants so I shrug instead, refusing to meet her eyes.
“Answer me dammit.”
“Fuck, Addison, can’t you just leave it alone? Why do you have to know everything about me?”
Her eyes widen in shock and her mouth slightly parts, a horrified expression on her face.
“Because that’s what couples do, Damian! They learn all the raw pieces, ugly, beautiful or boring, they get all the jagged parts to their partner’s heart so they can see if their uneven pieces line up. And right now, I’m thinking ours are miles apart.”
She turns and storms off towards the front door. “So what, you’re going to leave? Just walk out on us because I won’t divulge someone else’s secrets?”
Pointing a finger in my chest, her face tensed tight and her nostrils slightly flaring, she jabs at me. “It’s your secret too! You’re part of that story and you know it. You were the one with the commitment requirement; you were the one who wanted more than a casual fling. And I fell for it. I fell for all of it. You know everything about me. I was fired today for you. I deserve to know everything about you too. You owe me that!”
I throw my arms out to the sides so fucking mad we’re having this conversation right now. “I owe you every detail of my past? Are you shitting me? Addison, I owe you a future, I owe you a right here and now. I don’t owe you shit where my past is concerned. It doesn’t have anything to do with you and me or what we are to each other.”
Her hands are on her hips, and her mind is clearly spinning. She turns and I know I’m about to lose her. My heart stops beating, my body trembles, and I don’t think I can breathe. I can’t lose her, not over this.
“I killed her.” I finally blurt.
Addison stops mid stride and stands as still as an ice sculpture, the only movement, her breaths making her chest move in and out.
“I killed Emily’s mom.”
She looks at me, her face more confused than it was before.
“I was driving the car when it crashed. I’m the reason Emily is an orphan.”
She takes a step closer, her head slightly tilted as she gauges my emotions. “I thought a drunk driver hit your car?”
I nod, but that’s only part of the story. She takes another step in my direction, her body loosening, her arms no longer tense and folded across her stomach.
“I need more,” she whispers.
Swallowing hard, I look up into her sad eyes. “That’s all I’m telling you, Addison. The rest . . . you’re just going to have to trust me that it has nothing to do with us . . . with you and me.”
I watch as her face scrunches in disappointment, and I internally cringe. “It has everything to do with you and me.”
She walks to the front door, her hand on the knob. “So that’s it? You don’t get your way so you’re going to bail. Leave me. Leave us? Megan went to her grave asking me to protect her. You want me to break the trust she had in me?”
Her head falls forward as her hand slips off the metal doorknob. Looking over her shoulder there are tears falling down her cheeks and a sad smile on her face. “Considering I have no idea what role Megan played in your life, who she was or why you have this dying need to protect her and her daughter, yeah, I don’t understand why you won’t let me in. Megan’s dead, Damian. I’m not.”
She opens the door, and the room gets considerably cooler. In three strides, I’m standing behind her, my hand on the door gently shutting it. “Please don’t leave.”
The sound of the
closing door is the only noise in my quiet apartment, and we’re both facing it, her back to my front. My hands gently come down on her shoulders and I pull her back to embrace her.
Turning, she places distance between us. “I have to.”
I won’t cry. I won’t cry. A tear falls down my cheek. Dammit, I am not going to cry! Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath as I sit in front of my computer screen. Damian’s name is typed into Google, all I have to do is hit enter. It feels as if I’m invading his privacy, but I have to protect myself.
With a racing heart and a sick feeling in my gut, I press down on the enter key. Hundreds of articles and photos appear, mostly of Extreme Mindlessness. I click on the first one.
“Damian Walker, son of Brazilian soccer great Andre Revilino launches home workout program, Extreme Mindlessness, with college roommate Harry Reed.”
“Damian Walker and Harry Reed make Forbes top 100 companies of 2013.”
On and on the articles go about Damian and Reed, and I realize I need to limit my search. I type in Damian Walker and Megan Jones.
Nothing comes up.
I try Damian Walker and car accident. Again, my screen is filled with hundreds of articles.
“An unidentified female died today in a car accident involving Damian Walker, son of soccer great, Andre Revilino. Sources claim the two were exclusively dating. The accident is still being investigated.”
“Damian Walker cleared of all wrongdoing in accident that killed rumored girlfriend whose name has still not been released.”
“Jeremy Silvers’ blood alcohol level three times above the legal limit when he crashed head on into Damian Walker’s Audi R8, killing the soccer star’s rumored girlfriend on impact. Her name has not been revealed to the media.”
My gut gets that uh-oh feeling. The one that tells you something isn’t right. If she were his girlfriend, someone would have known her name and spilled it to reporters immediately. It’s impossible to keep that kind of information hidden. How could Damian have kept her identity a mystery from all those reporters, and more importantly, why did he have to? What is so special about Megan Jones that Damian doesn’t want anyone to know she ever existed in the first place?
I hit on images and instantly regret it. The Damian being shown in these photos is not my Damian. He looks sick, too thin, and ashen, as if his entire world has come crashing down. The pictures span years of his life, and it’s clear which ones were shot in the three years following the accident, the years Thomas keeps throwing in his face. Damian was a tortured soul at one point in his life, and maybe he still is. But we all have our demons.
Sleep evades me all night. A multitude of scenarios as to what Damian and Megan could possibly be hiding runs through my brain, making me go almost crazy. Part of me is guilty I searched out information on the web, another part angry that I had to, but mostly I feel sad there is a piece of his life that damaged him so deeply he blames himself for another human being’s death. No one should have to carry that guilt, especially when it clearly wasn’t his fault.
By five in the morning, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a complete ass. Asking Damian to share something he clearly isn’t ready to wasn’t fair. While it feels like it’s been a lot longer, we’ve known each other a mere two months. Expecting him to trust me with something that changed his life forever is asking a lot. But, my reaction tells me one important thing. I want to be his person. The one he tells everything to, the one he comes home to at night. I don’t want to lose him over this. He’ll tell me one day, I know he will, I just need to be patient.
I have to go into work today and pack up all my belongings. Something I’m not looking forward to. But admitting to Damian that I was wrong is also not high on my priority list.
Dressing in jeans and a sweater I head out for what is sure to be a crap day. The second I open the front door, I notice Damian’s large form standing there, waiting for me. I’m slightly relieved and slightly terrified that he’s here. I have no idea how we can move forward or if I can get over my need to know everything about him, but looking at his dark sad eyes, I know I need to try.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Addison . . . last night,” he takes a deep breath. “Last night sucked. Can we come to some truce on this, some middle ground? Losing you . . . fuck, I can’t lose you over this. Please.”
Pain plagues his voice and there is an insecurity I’ve never heard before. I don’t want to be at an impasse with him, I’m not ready to let this relationship fade. “I have to go to work and pack up my things. Will you be here in a few hours?”
He exhales a deep breath and looks directly at me, his dark brown eyes filled with hope. “I’ll go with you. You shouldn’t have to go alone.”
“Does Megan’s secret affect Emily?” I can’t help myself. I need to know how far I can push these questions before he pushes back.
He gazes at the ground. “Yes.”
“Would it change her future if it got out?”
He nods in reply.
“Are you her father?”
He laughs, his focus now on me. And instinctively I smile in return.
“No. I have no idea who her dad is and if I ever find out, I can promise you I’ll beat the shit out of him.”
Nodding I grab onto his thick arms and pull him close to me. I can smell the grass from the track on his skin, feel the cut muscles of his biceps under his white thermal. Making sure I have his complete attention, I look up into his eyes and say, “You are not responsible for her death. Do you understand me?”
He’s silent and his eyes search mine, looking for some sort of forgiveness or understanding that this is his personal hell and he’s going to live it anyway he wants. “Addison, I—”
I get up on my tiptoes and kiss him, my arms wrapping around his neck and my body pushing up flush against his hard abs. He holds onto me like he’ll fall if I let him go, his arms tightening around me and his tongue breaking through my lips, dancing with mine. He groans into my mouth and I want to pull him back inside, but I have things to do today and I can’t lose focus.
Backing away, I need to ask him one more question before I can put this behind me. “Will you ever tell me who Megan was? What she meant to you?”
He’s quiet his haunted eyes searching my face. His thumb traces my cheek down and across my bottom lip, his eyes following the path it takes. “If it’s really that important to you, I will. But I’d rather not.”
It’s an honest response and for now, I’ll take it. “I won’t push anymore Damian, but you hurt me.”
“I know. I need some time to figure it out. You surprised me last night, took me off guard. Just please; don’t walk out on me like that again. I slept like shit and I’d rather sleep with you angry, than not sleep with you at all.”
His honesty touches me—fires up the slow burn that my heart feels when I’m near him. He can’t tell me who Megan was and for now, I need to respect that, because Damian, wants this, wants us, just as badly as I do. Linking my arm in his, I lead us towards the stairs. “Come on, Offside. I have an office to pack up. You can sit in the car and wait for me.”
“You good?” Damian is holding my hand as he drives towards the hospital. Veronica had been instructed to babysit me while I gathered my personal belongings, making sure I didn’t take anything that belonged to the company. She kept apologizing, but I’d rather it was her watching over me than some security team.
“Yeah. I feel a little weird.” He gently squeezes my hand. “It’s not like I had a lot of friends in that office, but it was the first real job I’ve ever had. The first law firm to hire me after I passed the bar.”
He squeezes my hand tighter. We pull into the hospital parking lot and I’m relieved I don’t have to talk about this subject any further. The truth is . . . I’m unexplainably sad that I just left my office building for the last time. My personal life has changed drastically over the past few months. Now having t
o change professionally as well is a lot to take in.
When I met Damian, I needed a life overhaul, and the path I’m currently on is a stark contrast to the life I was living a mere two months ago. While it’s slightly freeing, it’s also terrifying. But as Damian opens my door and helps me out. As he pulls me into his arms and rests his lips on the top of my head, holding me tightly to him, I’m relieved that even though nothing about my life feels familiar right now, that once again, I’ve lost something close to my heart, this time around, I don’t have to go it alone.
“You sure you’re up for this, Addison?”
I nod and we walk towards the entrance hand in hand. The minute we reach the nurse’s station, I know something is drastically wrong.
“Damian, can I talk to you for a second?” Susie’s voice is grave and sweat begins to coat his palm.
“Is something wrong? Is Emily sick?”
She shakes her head and glances in my direction. “What is it Susie? Just spit it out.”
Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she finally delivers the crushing news. “Thomas is trying to ban all visitation rights. He called Rebecca this morning. Said Emily is getting too attached to you.”
My heart is panicking, my mind spinning with how to stop this and I have to wonder if my involvement is the reason for this drastic change. It’s too coincidental that Thomas would come forward with this request the day after I was fired. While I have no idea what Damian’s relationship was with Emily’s mother, I do know that he loves that little girl more than life and he will stop at nothing to make sure she’s well taken care of. The fact that Thomas can’t see that is unbelievable.
Damian’s breaths are coming in deep slow inhales and exhales. Everything about his stance, to the way he’s gripping my hand tells me he’s doing his best to keep it all under control, but I know inside he’s losing it. In as deep and calm a voice as he can muster he asks, “What did Rebecca tell him?”
“She said no.”
With those three words, Damian exhales a huge breath and his body begins to settle. If this fight ever goes to court, it would be in Thomas’s best interest to listen to Emily’s social worker. Rebecca sees her weekly and has first-hand knowledge what’s best for her. I’m sure Thomas will find a way around this, but her refusal gives Damian time to get his own people working on some sort of argument.