Broken, p.20
Broken, page 20
“It’s so peaceful,” I say, a little dreamily. “Can I ask why tonight though? I mean, I know the stars are gorgeous and that, but it must be just as peaceful during the day.”
Damien smirks knowingly. “You’ll see.”
“Okay,” I say, opting not to protest or pry, moving to sit in a cross-legged position facing him. “So, while we’re waiting for whatever, I have a question to ask.”
“Shoot.”
“What’s your favourite colour?”
Damien laughs. “My favourite colour, really? That’s your question?”
“Yes,” I say sternly. “I think we’ve had one too many heavy conversations to last a lifetime.”
“Blue,” he answers. “Yours?”
“Black,” I reply. “Favourite film?”
“Die Hard.”
“Mary Poppins,” I answer his silent nod.
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Yeah, ’cause Die Hard is such an outrageous choice for an ex-Army boy,” I say sarcastically. “Or a bloke, for that matter.”
“Fair point,” he agrees. “All right, I got one for you. Favourite song?” Now, that’s a hard question.
“I honestly don’t know,” I admit. “There’s too many to choose from. What about you?”
“‘Your Song’, Elton John.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised.
“Hey,” he protests. “I’m a sophisticated guy.”
I laugh a little too loudly, and Damien pretends to be offended by my outburst by scowling at me. I can see a twinge of amusement though, and I apologise by leaning in and kissing him. Funnily enough, he accepts my apology without resistance, and his smile returns.
“What about favourite artist?” he asks, and the biggest grin creeps across my face.
“Oh, that’s easy,” I state. “You.”
“Me?” He laughs.
“I could listen to your music all day every day.”
“It’s only half my music,” he reminds me.
“In that case,” I tease, “I have two favourites. You, and the mysterious lyricist from a long time ago.”
Damien laughs at my theatrics. “Aren’t you going to ask me who my favourite artist is?”
“Depends on if you’re planning on being smooth,” I mock.
“It would only be the truth.”
“Come off it,” I state. “My music ain’t your style. My stuff’s depressing.”
“It’s meaningful,” he argues. “And it comes from the heart.”
“Still not your style.”
Damien sighs. “I like anything that’s real. Music is tainted by what sells, and it shouldn’t be about money. Music helped me through some of the darkest times in my life because it’s an escape from the bullshit life throws at you. Music should be raw and meaningful, otherwise what’s the point?”
I stare at Damien with fresh eyes, truly appreciating the man sitting in front of me. I said before that Damien understands the power of music but hearing him say it out loud is heart-warming. He’s right in everything he says. Music is an outlet of pain and used in just the right way, it can help battle the demons. It’s not a cure, but it’s a comfort. I feel incredibly lucky to find someone who sees music the way I do.
“What?” he asks, breaking my trance.
“I just…” I’m searching for the words. “You amaze me.”
Damien laughs. “How’s that?”
“Because you always know what to say,” I tell him. “And how to say it.”
“I doubt that somehow,” he chortles.
I reach over to take his hand in mine. “Well, don’t doubt it,” I insist. “And don’t ever doubt how amazing you are either.”
“Pot kettle black,” he jokes, and I smile.
“I’m glad I came to my senses.”
“Me too,” he replies, kissing the back of my hand. “Although can I ask what it was that changed your mind?”
“Kayleigh,” I answer honestly. “I told her that it takes one person to understand to drag you out of the bottomless pit of negativity…”
“You said that?”
I nod. “Because it’s true. I don’t know what kind of spell you’ve cast over me, but you got through to me.” I sigh. “Seeing Kayleigh on that bridge… It reminded me that I was her once, but it also made me realise how far I’d come since then, and after going round and round in circles for the past three years, I finally figured out what I want.”
“And what do you want?”
“Duh,” I mock. “You.” Damien smiles. “But for the record,” I state, just in case, “I ain’t with you because you’ve helped me. It’s not some kind of weird I-owe-you thing.”
Damien laughs. “The thought never even crossed my mind.”
“I liked you from the second I saw you,” I tell him. “And I hated the effect you had on me just by smiling.” Damien flaunts that beautiful smile, and although I return it, I add in a shake of my head for dramatic effect. “Still do,” I add, and Damien surprises me by not laughing, but leaning in close, pressing his forehead to mine.
“You have no idea the effect you have on me,” he breathes heavily, stirring my heart into beating faster. “I have never wanted anyone as badly as I do you.”
I sigh, the guilt setting in. “I wish I could…”
“Don’t,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I did, as in, I do want you, but I didn’t mean it in that way. I just meant I’d have done anything to be with you, as crazy as that sounds. I just wanted to know you.”
“And now you do,” I say softly. “In all my fucked-up glory.”
Damien sighs, unimpressed, yet smirking at my attempt at humour. He’s about to say something, but he stops, opting to look at his watch instead. “Shit,” he says. “You might want to look up at the sky ’cause the reason why I brought you here is about to happen.”
I lie back on the blanket and stare up at the sky, the anticipation a little exciting. Damien lies beside me, leaning on one arm so he’s slightly propped up, and that’s when my eyes are drawn to what looks like a shooting star zipping through the sky, followed by an array of fireworks coming from the local town.
“Make a wish,” Damien whispers in my ear.
“I don’t need to,” I say quietly as my eyes lock with his. “I have everything I could have wished for right here.”
Damien leans in and kisses me with a longing that has my nerves standing on end. I wrap my arm around his neck, brushing my fingers through the back of his hair, pulling him closer. I feel the urge to melt into him, but when he slides a hand down my cheek, onto my neck towards my shoulder, I flinch. I hadn’t wanted to, but I did, and the moment is gone quicker than a shooting star.
Chapter Seventeen
I manage to go all week without meeting the sister, spending my evenings with Damien, which can only be described as heaven. I’ve never been a fan of the American phrase making out – I hate the word snogging too – but since that’s pretty much the best description to sum up this week’s activities, I’ll go with it. My songbook has doubled in size mind, albeit the second half is now titled collaborations, and I have no doubt a few of them will meander their way into Damien’s band’s set list.
The only downside is the lack of progress, touching wise, and Damien, being the patient gentleman he is, refuses to push. The first date flinch didn’t help, but Damien continues to assure me he isn’t going anywhere. He even apologised for forgetting himself, which was sweet, but should it be necessary? Hell no. He’s got zilch to apologise for.
I know I’m being ridiculous. Damien would never hurt me, yet I’m still terrified one touch will make the flashbacks kick in with a determined vengeance, and the last thing I want to feel right now is pain. Thing is, as much as I feel guilty, I don’t want to take the step for Damien. He’s an important factor, obviously, but I want to do it for me. I want some tiny morsel of closure, to know Adrian’s hold over me is at the very least dwindling. But more than anything, I want to be able to have a physical relationship with cuddling and touching. I want to be intimate in the basic sense at least.
The only night I don’t spend with Damien is Thursday, and it’s back to a three-person endeavour. Raif has decided, as my new neighbour, he qualifies to tag along, but since I like Raif, I don’t mind. We spent far more time nattering and laughing than we did paying attention to the film though, and the more I watched Jess and Raif together, the more I smiled. They really are two peas in a pod, and after Jess’s lack-of-friends admission, I’m glad she has Raif. I’m all for the friendship thing, now anyway, but even if my confidence grows, my disdain for shopping and partying never will, so I’m glad Raif is around to fill my shoes in those areas.
Despite her claim to be incapable of making friends, Jess is obviously improving since she’s spent today with Amy, which isn’t helping my nerves any. I know Jess wouldn’t spill my personal horrors – there was a time I thought she would, which is a sign of just how far Jess and I have come – but I do know she will have spent the entire day talking about Damien and me, and I can imagine she hasn’t hesitated in calling me an idiot more than I would like.
To top things off, as if my brain wasn’t enough to contend with, I’m even more restless thanks to a phone call I received this morning. I knew it was coming, though I didn’t expect it to be today, and the worst has officially happened. Lloyd’s has closed its doors for good. I’m now down a job, leaving me with the thirteen hours I work for Dave, which is nowhere near enough to pay the bills.
Just the thought of starting a new job and learning the ropes all over again makes me want to throw up. Lloyd’s wasn’t much, but it was comfortable, and I knew what to expect. Add in the added complication of finding a job that fits around Dave’s – I’m not giving up Dave’s – in an already strapped working economy, I’m dreading what I’m going to end up taking for the sake of making money. So yeah, meeting Amy right now is just one more stress to add to my day.
After a full day’s work at Dave’s and a quick nip home for a change of clothes, I’m parking my car and heading inside Damien’s, on edge and fully aware my stress levels are doomed to increase. I’m expecting a grilling because let’s face it, Amy’s going to have questions for the woman in her brother’s life, and even though every part of me wants to turn and run for the hills, out of nothing more than pure embarrassment, I know I can’t. Amy is Damien’s sister and meeting the family is standard in any relationship, and I do want to meet Amy. I just wish I hadn’t made such a shitty first impression.
Walking through Damien’s door, I’m not at all surprised to find Jess here. Nor am I surprised there are two empty bottles of wine sitting between her and who I’m assuming is Amy. Although Damien is nowhere to be seen.
“Damien not back from work yet?” I ask.
Jess shakes her head. “Must be running late.” She shrugs. “No text?”
“No,” I answer, swiftly pulling out my phone and sending Damien a message asking where he is.
“Well, while we’re waiting,” Jess says, “Dani, meet Damien’s sister, Amy.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” she says as I nab a seat at the opposite side of the island, facing her. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Oh, I bet,” I reply, turning my attention to a grinning Jess.
“I promise,” Amy says, “Jess has had nothing but nice things to say.”
“You and Damien make a great topic of conversation,” Jess teases. “So, how’s your day been?”
I sigh. “Shit.” I’m met with a round of confused faces. “Dave’s was fine, but Lloyd phoned to say he’s shut up shop for good.”
“Lloyd’s is a café, right?” Amy asks, and I nod.
“Not overly glamorous, I know.”
“I’m a part-time cleaner,” Amy says, and I laugh – equally unglamorous.
“I’m sure you’ll find something else,” Jess reassures.
“Preferably before I run out of money.”
I’m so full of shit. I have plenty of money. I just don’t like to share that fact, nor do I like dipping into it either. It’s my emergency money, the money I was left by my family, and it’s a safety net. My paranoid side hates the thought of using it in case the shit hits the fan, whatever the shit may be, and I need it to start a new life again. I mentally punch my paranoid side hard. How the hell can I even think about such a ridiculous thing when I’ve just started a relationship with Damien? If he knew what I was thinking, he’d not only be insulted, he’d be hurt. My paranoia needs to fuck right off.
“So,” Amy says, changing the subject, “I hear you’re the musical type.”
“I take it you’re not?”
“I haven’t got a musical bone in my body,” she says, shaking her head.
“Me neither,” Jess concurs.
“I like listening to music if that counts,” Amy says, and I laugh. It’s not quite the same thing. “I’m a math geek.”
If I were writing a book on stereotypes, Amy would not fall into the “math geek” bracket. The good-looking American-style cheerleader, and the most popular girl at school is a better fit. She’s a really pretty lass, with short brown hair falling to just above her shoulders, and a subtle dress sense if today’s outfit is anything to go by: a simple light blue vest top and black skinny jeans paired with a pair of stilettos even Jess will be envious of. Her make-up is very understated too, very natural and tastefully done.
“An academic type,” I say, impressed.
“Damien tells me you have an amazing singing voice,” Amy adds. “I’d love to hear you sing.” There’s a plea behind Amy’s statement.
“Ha-ha,” I fake laugh. “I don’t sing for people.”
“That’s a barefaced lie,” Jess scoffs.
It takes me a minute to realise what the hell she’s talking about, but when I do, I cringe. “Bollocks,” I say. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“About what?” Amy asks.
“Paul dragged Dani on stage for karaoke at his daughter’s birthday party,” Jess explains, before chuckling. “I still can’t believe you did it.”
“I had no choice,” I argue. “I couldn’t freak out at Kayleigh’s party, could I?”
“Why would you freak out?” Amy asks, and I promptly regret my choice of words.
“Stage fright,” Jess answers for me. “Not that she’s got anything to be afraid of. It was the first time I’d heard Dani sing, and she was amazing.”
“Oh, come on,” Amy pleads. “Sing us something.”
“Damien’s the performer,” I argue. “Get him to sing something.” If he ever gets here.
“Speaking of Damien,” Jess says, almost seductively. “How are things going?”
“I sincerely doubt Amy wants to hear the gory details.”
Amy nods in eager agreement. “That’s right, I don’t, especially when you’re all he can talk about.” I smile. “He’s definitely smitten. You sure you’ve only been his girlfriend for a week?”
Girlfriend. The word hits me like a ton of bricks. Damien and I have yet to put a label on our relationship, but the thought of being called Damien’s girlfriend is a little terrifying, yet exciting. Slightly dampened by a glance at my phone, and the lack of a reply from said “boyfriend”.
“They’ve been falling for each other for over a month,” Jess pitches in.
“You’ve been paying way too much attention,” I tease Jess. “Next you’ll be telling me the exact date Damien first walked into Lloyd’s.”
“Do you even know?” Jess asks.
“No,” I admit. “But I bet Damien does.”
“He is a stickler for detail,” Amy agrees. “And routine, and tidiness. You know he’s borderline OCD, right?” I smile and nod.
“Isn’t that backwards?” Jess asks. “Isn’t it typically the women who remember dates?”
“At least he’ll never forget an anniversary.”
“One week, and she’s talking about anniversaries,” Jess teases, and in the midst of my laughter, I notice Amy eying Jess and me with amusement.
“What?” I ask.
“You two are kind of cute,” she replies.
“That’s because she’s my best mate,” I tell her.
“Did you just call me your best friend?” Jess asks smugly. Yes, I did. Out loud as well. What on earth was I thinking?
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” I say, attempting to play it down. “Unless it’s not true?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She’s enjoying this far too much. “I have so many to choose from.” Except we all know she doesn’t, unless Raif is pipping me to the post. I pull a sarcastic ha-ha face at her and she laughs, ending her charade. “It’s true.”
The sound of Damien’s door opening is a distraction for all of us, but my excitement is dulled when I realise it’s not Damien. It’s Raif.
“Oh, God help me,” I say sarcastically.
“Well, hello to you too, honey,” Raif says, taking the last remaining stool between Jess and me.
“I wonder who invited you,” I say.
“Technically,” Jess defends, “I didn’t invite him. Raif texted asking where I was, the rest is all him.”
“I’m assuming you’ve met Raif,” I say to Amy, and she nods. “Lucky you.”
“I’m going to choose to ignore the sarcasm,” Raif declares, “and take that as a compliment.” I smirk. “Where is lover boy anyway?”
On cue, my phone rings, only I’m left disappointed a second time. It’s Paul.
“Dani.” Paul’s voice sounds deeper on the phone somehow. “Damien’s in the hospital.”
My heart stops. “What?”
“He’s been in some sort of attack,” Paul explains.
“An attack?” I practically squeal, the colour draining from my face.
“I don’t know the details,” Paul says. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.” Paul hangs up, and I drop my phone to the counter in a daze.
“Dani?” Jess asks.
“Damien’s been attacked.”
I head for the door. I can hear Amy panicking, and Jess and Raif muttering. With shaky legs, I race to my car with my friends hot on my heels. My mind is whirling like a tornado, Paul’s words echoing relentlessly like a bad song on repeat. Starting the engine, I speed through the busy streets as best I can, grateful it’s Saturday, and the teatime rush isn’t as bad as normal.
