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“Did they—” I can only imagine one reason why I would ever leave a home—with parents—but I know I come from a very different perspective on this sort of thing. “Did they hurt you?”
Damon’s shoulder lifts in a shrug, but his features harden. “Sometimes. Not a lot. Usually not on purpose. They were both drug addicts. Or are. I don’t really know. I haven’t spoken to them in more than ten years. When I left, they didn’t exactly come running after me.”
My arms tighten immediately, hugging him around the neck. “D… I’m so sorry.”
Damon cuddles me, securing his muscled arms around my back and nestling his face into my hair. When he closes his eyes and rests there, everything inside me melts. “Thank you,” he says into my skin. “It was a long-ass time ago. I’m mostly better about it now.”
I get what he means when he says “mostly.” I’ve “mostly” gotten over being abandoned at birth. I’m an adult now, and I can understand, rationally, why people give children up.
But that doesn’t make Christmas alone hurt any less. Or other occasions.
I try to paste on a bright smile, ignoring the pang echoing behind my breastbone. Damon’s ice-blue eyes trace over my expression. After a long beat, he narrows them slightly.
“Tell me something,” he requests.
“Tell you… something?”
A spark lights his gaze. “Yeah. Something you don’t think I want to hear.”
My lashes flutter, confusion quirking my brow. “Why would I do that?”
Damon spins us quickly, flashing his crooked grin. “Because… I think you keep a lot of things to yourself so you don’t upset us. I want you to tell me something real and true, that you think I won’t like. So I can prove to you that you’re my omega. All the time, no matter what.”
My heart rips in two; fear and longing tugging it in opposite directions. And below all of that, there’s awe. Damon’s emotional intelligence is way beyond anything I ever would have imagined.
He’s nothing like I originally thought he was. He’s so much more.
Maybe, if I show him some of my true colors, he’ll feel the same way about me.
Thinking this, I whisper the first confession that comes to me. “I hate my birthday.”
He practically pouts. “What?! Why?”
I feel like the most pitiful person on earth, but it’s too late to turn back now. Sighing, I hide my face against the hot, autumn-spiced skin of his throat.
“It’s the same day they gave me away.”
Damon stops breathing, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
He’s going to hear how pathetic I am and run for the hills. He won’t want me anymore, and he’ll tell the others I’m defective, and then they’ll finally figure out whatever it is that made all the others return me, too.
But he asked to hear this. I have to follow through and give him what he wants, so I scrape out the rest of this dark thing I’ve never told anyone else.
“The day I was born is the same day they gave me away; and every year, even if I’m doing something fun with Meg… I have to remember that, however many years ago, someone looked at me and decided they didn’t want me.”
For the longest moment, everything is still and silent. All I hear is my own breathing, too quick and muffled by the collar of his sweater. Finally, Damon moves, slowly skating us to the edge of the rink and setting me on the low wall surrounding the ice.
When he leans back, just far enough for me to see his face, he cups both palms around my head. “Remi,” he says, staring right into me, “I want you.”
My eyes sting while he crowds closer.
“Okay? I want you, sweetness. I want all your muffins. And I want to hear about your pirate romance books, even if I still don’t actually believe that’s a thing. I want to watch Bake Off with you and score for you at every game and hold you all night, every night. I want you.”
chapter
forty-three
The prettiest girl in the world is looking up at me with tears half-frozen on her dark eyelashes.
