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“Because, Gemma, by the way you talked about motorcycles on the plane ride to LA, I was certain you missed it.”
My tears are drying, but my heart is bleeding, the liquid merging with my dead cells. That’s how I feel—dead. Like there’s no tomorrow and no future with Damon.
No more happiness.
A future without him in my life is bleak and mundane.
What am I going to do?
I thought having some space from him would help me figure it out but it hasn’t.
The hurt in his eyes kills me when I see it, but he has to understand! He has to understand that even though Palmer’s accident was on her, he covered up a hit-and-run with her parents. It’s so morally and legally wrong.
And it hurt the happy blue-eyed boy. It deeply impacted his life.
“I’m somadat you right now. I can’t evenlookat you, Damon.” I shake my head. “I keep thinking about what kindof person could hide something this important from the person they love.”
“I know sorry doesn’t cut it—”
“No, you’re right. It doesn’t. Because you still betrayed me, and Harvey still can’t walk the way he used to.”
Damon looks wan, and he takes a step back as if I slapped him across the face.
How am I supposed to forgive the man I love for hurting the man I used to love? For hurting me? For lying to me?
“I’m going to my dad’s tonight.”
“So this is the new plan? You’ll keep running away from me and ignoring me?”
“No, Damon. The new plan is that I need space from you and your poor decision-making.”
“Gemma, don’t go. Stay the night. I can sleep in the guest bedroom.”
The biggest part of me is begging my inner sanity to leave—to run from Damon—to think about what he did to Harvey.
But I’m so tired and I’m nauseated again. So, I lie down on the couch, grabbing the faux-fur blanket. I wish I’d never found out. I wish I’d never asked. I wish I’d never read the diaries.
Then I could’ve kept going and been happy with Damon.
Because I love him too much, and that’s the honest truth.
What kind of monster does it make me that I don’t want to leave him over this? That I’ve chosen him over Harvey?
“All this time I asked you questions about Palmer, and I just realized you barely, if ever, asked me anything about Harv. Because you knew. You already knew.”
He sits on the coffee table, pushing my hair behind my ear. I should recoil from his touch. I should leave. And Imight.I mightleave.I need the strength to do it, though, and right now, I don’t have an ounce of it.
I keep thinking of Harvey—depressed, unhappy, unsmiling until Claire came around. And my heart freezes.
“He tried to kill himself on Thursday.”
Damon stops touching me.
“Is he okay? Is he at the hospital?” He lands on the couch and scoops me into his lap, and despite everything, it makes me feel safe and sheltered andhis.
“No.” I clear my throat. “He’s home—on watch. Henrik told him we were moving in together ... he found him in the kitchen that morning about to take a bunch of pills. Harv says he wasn’t really going to do it, but you never know.” My breath stalls.
If something would’ve happened to him.
