“I thought you had changed, Damien,” I whispered as I looked up at him.
“I have, darlin’. I swear I have,” he told me, his eyes boring into my own with so much intensity that it was almost hard to keep my eyes locked with his. “I’m not the same man that I was, Hayley. I swear I’m not. It’s just—fuck, when I saw him hit you, I fucking saw red. Nothing mattered except releasing the rage that I was feeling and protecting you.”
“He didn’t deserve to die, Damien,” I whispered.
He dropped his face onto my hands. “I know, baby, and I’m sorry,” he quietly replied. “I know that sorry doesn’t make up for anything, but I can’t go back and change the decision that I made.”
“I want to be alone, Damien,” I choked out, tears glistening in my eyes.
His eyes met mine, holding so much pain and sadness that it made my chest physically ache. I wanted so badly just to pretend everything was okay and pull him onto the bed with me, but I couldn’t do that. What he did wasn’t okay. A friend of mine—granted, not that great of one, but a friend, nonetheless—had died tonight because Damien had been careless and had acted on his anger.
“I’ll go,” he whispered, pressing his lips to my hands. “I’ll be around.” He swallowed hard, ripping his eyes from mine.
He pressed his lips to my temple, and I squeezed my eyes shut, desperately trying to contain my tears and the pain that I was feeling until he left the room.
“I love you,” he whispered.
But I didn’t realize that when I told him I wanted to be alone, he had taken it in the most literal sense.
Because when I woke up the next morning, some of his clothes were missing, and I was met by Miles in the kitchen instead of Damien.
“Where’s Damien?” I asked him, fearing his answer but needing to know.
Miles shrugged. “He left,” he told me. Pain squeezed my chest. “He told me to keep an eye on you, that he’ll be around. He said you were pretty torn apart about Drake and that it would probably take a while for you to want him back around again.”
“Miles, I didn’t—" I started, tears filling my eyes. I knew I had lost Drake over a huge misunderstanding, but was it wrong of me to not have wanted Damien gone for good? I had just wanted some time alone last night to try to come to terms with losing Drake—a friend. As fucked up as it was, I still would have wanted Damien to console me eventually even though he was the cause of the pain.
But I had lost Damien once, and the pain of leaving him had been just as bad as it had been when I had lost myself the first time being with him.
I didn’t know if I could go through losing him again.
“I know,” Miles told me softly as he wrapped his arms around me. A choked sob left my lips as I wrapped my own arms around his torso, crying into his chest. “You both just need some time away from each other. Damien loves you so fucking much, Hayley. He will never leave for good. He’ll be back. Right now, he hates himself as much as he thinks you hate him.”
“I don’t hate him, Miles,” I sobbed.
I could never hate him.
Even when Damien turned me into a shell of myself and made me lose my love for everything I once found joy in, I still couldn’t hate him.
Miles gently rubbed my back. “I know that, too, Hayley, but he doesn’t. I’ve never seen Damien as broken as he was last night since you left that ring on the table when he was in prison. He hurt you, and he broke your trust. I know he was in the wrong, but just give him some time.”
I nodded against his chest, pulling away from him. I numbly walked back to mine and Damien’s room, burrowing under the blankets and clutching his pillow to my chest, silent tears rushing down my cheeks.
I always managed to fuck everything up.
Had I not called Diego, Drake wouldn’t have been pissed. Had Drake not gotten pissed because of Lacie’s betrayal, he wouldn’t have tried to hit Damien, which resulted in him hitting me instead.
And Damien wouldn’t have shot Drake.
This was all my fault.
I was at fault for Drake’s death.
And I had pushed Damien away for something that wouldn’t have even happened had I not stuck my nose where it didn’t fucking belong.