Broken, p.28
Broken, page 28
“You were never crazy,” Damien assures, but I let out a scoff that has Damien smirking. “Okay, maybe a little.”
“I guess already knowing me probably helped you get inside my head quicker.”
Damien shakes his head. “Please don’t do that, Dani. I didn’t use anything, or if I did, I didn’t do it intentionally. I tried to act like it was a fresh start. Why do you think I asked questions about your family? I already knew what happened to them, but it would’ve have been weirder not to ask. Everything I did, I swear, I did it because I love you.” I furrow my brow in confusion, and of course, Damien notices. “What?”
“I’m just realising I never asked how long you’ve lived here.”
“I moved after Christmas last year,” he tells me. “Paul and I kept in contact, and he was a massive support in my recovery, despite having a full-time job and a teenager.”
“So, you waited just over two months to make a move?”
Damien shakes his head. “First thing I did was drive straight to the café, but…”
“You saw me locking up.” I nod in understanding. “And I didn’t recognise you.”
“It threw me,” he admits. “Paul told me to take a step back, focus on getting started up with the PT and getting settled.”
I laugh. “You got settled after just two months?”
Damien smiles softly. “No,” he admits. “I’m still working on the business side, but I couldn’t wait with you. I had to do something.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t move,” I say. “I never planned to stay in Stanton as long as I have.” Hence the forever packed suitcases.
“I’d follow you anywhere,” he says softly, warming my heart. “But I’m not surprised you got too comfortable. You never did like the idea of moving around much.”
“I’m assuming we had a conversation about that?”
“We did.” Damien nods. “After Army training, I was based in Belfast. You offered to move there to be closer to me after college, but we both knew your dream was to study at King’s College and leaving your family behind would’ve killed you. Not to mention your precious West End.”
“Trips to the theatre.” I nod, remembering the things I’ve already remembered, if that makes sense. “That was my doing. So, you really are a festival, concert kind of guy?” Damien nods. “Why don’t I remember one of those?”
Damien laughs again. “’Cause you hated festivals with a passion, and you only went for me.”
“How can someone so in love with music hate a festival?”
“’Cause you and camping don’t mix,” he teases.
“Huh.” I’m not entirely sure what to say to that, so I decide to steer the conversation back to the point. “But what about after my degree? I mean, I was almost twenty-three when I got shot. I vaguely remember graduating, and that was at twenty-one, right?”
Damien nods. “You did a masters.”
“A masters?” I can’t hide my surprise.
“I was in and out of Afghanistan, so it made sense to make the most of our time apart,” Damien says. “Plus, when I wasn’t deployed, I got plenty of leave, and we took turns travelling back and forth.”
“That still leaves another ten months unaccounted for,” It may seem like a meaningless question, but I’m just trying to make sense of things.
“I was back out in Afghanistan,” Damien readily explains. “My last tour before moving to the reserves, and I was gonna come back to London. Like I said, I never could have torn you from your family.”
“But what about yours?” I ask. “I already know you miss them.”
“I left Belfast for London when I was eight.” After social services got involved. I don’t need my memories back to remember that part. Interesting Damien’s time in London never came up in conversation before. Good job really. I’m pretty sure my paranoid side would have struggled to let that snippet of information slide. “I was used to being away from my lot back home, and your family were good to me, like really good. Your parents were everything my parents weren’t, loving and close, and they treated me like one of their own.”
My heart swells with pride. “I wish I could remember more about them.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” Damien offers. “As much as I can.” I nod. “It’s the least I can do after keeping you in the dark…” His voice trails off.
“I get why you did.”
I’m not happy he lied, but I understand why he did it. He did it out of fear, the fear of losing me all over again, and if there’s one thing I understand, it’s fear. It’s irrational, and it makes you do crazy things. But he also did it out of love. A love that refused to be extinguished even in fake death, and I’m not the only one who’s suffered here, Damien has too.
“Please don’t hate me,” he almost begs, and my heart bleeds for the vulnerable man sitting beside me.
Feeling any lingering anger dissipate, I lean in and kiss him. I pour every ounce of love and admiration into his lips before forcing myself to pull away, staring into his worried sky-blue eyes.
“I could never hate you,” I say softly, my hand on his cheek. “I love you. I have always loved you.”
Damien’s eyes soften, and I kiss him again, caught up in the elation of knowing I have a second chance with the only person… I pull away.
“You’re the only one?” I ask. I’m pretty sure I already know the answer, and I’d like to think I’m right considering I was a mere sixteen when I met Damien, but with my memory, it can’t hurt to seek confirmation. “Guy I’ve loved?”
“As far as I know,” he half teases, and I gently slap his chest.
We’re quickly back to kissing, and I’m back to revelling in the elation of a second chance with the only man I have ever loved. Damien’s lips devour mine with an intense need, as though all his fear and heartache are melting into me, relieving him of any pain or guilt, and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. It’s only when I feel a sharp pain in my chest, I force myself to pull away again.
“You really need to rest, babe.”
“I don’t want to rest,” I groan. “I want you.”
Damien laughs. “I want you too.” Good to know. “But I’d rather do this when I don’t have to worry about hurting you.”
I’m not happy, but I grumble, “Fine.”
Damien leans back into the sofa, and I lay my head in his lap, letting the feel of his fingers running through my hair comfort me.
“We got all the time in the world, babe,” he assures. “All the time in the world.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Since I’m resting, which involves doing absolutely nothing, I’m eagerly listening to Damien filling me in on every detail he can about our past, and the more he enlightens me, the more fascinated I am at how many little things are creeping back. Like my dad not only playing the guitar but working as a violinist in the West End. Or the confirmation my mum was indeed a writer, with a total of two novels and ten children’s books to her name. Or Seth being the Bill to my Ben, my right arm, and the closest thing, bar Paul, apparently, I had to a brother.
So many happy memories, but as with any relationship, Damien and I weren’t always so smooth sailing, which is oddly refreshing. Although Damien and I didn’t argue often, when we did, it was explosive. We could easily go days without speaking to one another out of nothing more than sheer stubbornness, and randomly, I now have a rather vivid memory of one of our make-up sessions. If you ask me, the argument was totally worth it.
Damien, the sensible, routine-loving, guitar-playing teen seemingly took me on a whirlwind of adventures I’ve yet to remember. Holidays abroad, including a trip to Egypt and a visit to the pyramids, hikes up countless countryside hills, theatre trips, concerts, festivals, romantic meals in fancy restaurants, cinema visits, bowling, minigolf, Blackpool… The list is endless. Yet between college, university, the Army, and my apparent theatre hobby, as in performing not watching – my dream was to star in the West End back in the day – I’m amazed we had any time left to spend together. We found a way to make it work though, and up until Damien enlisting full-time, we rarely spent a night in bed alone. Damien was my entire world, and I’m beyond grateful to have him back in my life.
I do have a slightly hilarious fact for you that has me feeling embarrassed yet highly amused. Remember the woman Damien was in love with? Number three? The woman I was jealous of before I conquered my fears around sex? Yeah, that’s me. Number one is the girl he lost his virginity to at fourteen, number two is a brief six-month relationship he had at sixteen, and number three is, in Damien’s words, the gorgeous, music-loving, fiery teen he met in college otherwise known as me. I cannot believe I was jealous of myself. And just in case you’re wondering, Damien holds all of my firsts, except kissing, I guess. Apparently, I kissed a boy on the lips when I was twelve, or so Damien tells me, but I’m not entirely convinced that counts.
I have to say, Damien’s stories and knowledge, shy of getting all my memories back, is everything I could ask for. I’m laughing, a lot, which has my ribs spending most of the morning groaning, but it’s worth the pain. I’ve spent three years asking silent questions with nothing but my imagination for an answer, but I can honestly say the truth is so much better; it’s priceless. I had a loving family, an honorary brother in Paul, who was apparently a regular tag along on Damien’s trips home, and an amazing man who loved me enough to follow me even when I forgot him. What more could a girl ask for?
Okay, so we all know by now I’m physically incapable of remaining positive and eventually, I can’t stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. Replaying Ray’s vague description of the shooting in my head doesn’t stir any memories, but it is stirring a whole load of pain.
I had everything I could have ever asked for and it was torn from me in the blink of an eye. My life, my loved ones, my memories, and as if that wasn’t enough, the bastard who orchestrated the shooting went on to steal my dignity, my sanity, and ultimately, everything that made me me. And if it wasn’t for a car briefly killing me, I’d still be in the dark, and no, that’s not a dig at Damien, honestly. I understand his reasons, but in what world is it right to be grateful for being hit by a car? My world, apparently.
Damien being Damien though, he’s reminding me the worst is over, and now we can focus on the rest of our lives – an honest, secret-free life. And he’s right. All that matters now is the future, and when I think of the friends I’ve gained, all of whom made sure to visit me in the hospital whenever they could, and the beautiful man I’m lucky enough to call mine, I’d say the future looks rather bright. If the universe decides to cut me a break, that is.
“You okay?” Damien suddenly asks. He’s now in the kitchen, making me a brew, whilst I lie on the couch, replaying today’s conversation over and over in my head.
I slowly move to sit up, catching Damien’s eye over the back of the couch. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Just worried it might be getting to the information overload stage.”
I laugh. “Ouch,” I groan. “I really need to stop laughing.” Damien offers sympathy by sitting beside me and handing over a freshly made brew. “But no, I don’t think it will ever be information overload. I just hope I can keep remembering things. Not that I’m not grateful for everything you’ve filled me in on, I just…” I sigh. “I want to remember, you know?”
“Actually.” Damien rises to his feet. “I have something that might help with that.”
Damien disappears into his bedroom, returning with a medium-sized cardboard box, setting it down beside me. “What’s that?” I ask as Damien sits and opens the box lid.
“That is every letter you ever wrote me while I was away,” he says. “It’s every keepsake I kept, and everything you left at my dad’s old place.”
“Oh, my God,” I almost squeal, fighting the urge to burst into tears but wasting no time in abandoning my brew to the coffee table and pulling off the box lid. Damien bypasses my hands to retrieve something, dangling it in front of me. “A charm bracelet,” I state, drawing a blank, yet taking it from Damien’s hand and inspecting the collection of silver charms, my eyes landing on one in particular. “Damien and Dani forever.”
“That was the first-ever birthday present I bought you,” Damien explains. “You accidentally left it behind on one of your visits to Belfast.” Nothing’s coming back to me, but rather than dwell on it, I focus on rummaging through the box.
I pull out a few of the letters I wrote and skim through them. I laugh at some of the ridiculous things I wrote about, like my first day at the part-time job I snagged during university as a personal assistant where I managed to spill coffee down my boss’s shirt. I guess I had a habit of not paying attention to where I was going and crashing into people.
“Oh, I wish I could remember what you said to that,” I say to Damien, pointing to the letter and letting him read the spillage part. Damien laughs.
“I asked if I should be worried,” Damien says, yet his tone is playful. “Since that’s pretty much how we met.”
I laugh, making every effort to ignore the pain. “I have a feeling my boss was probably old.”
“Oh, so if it had been some good-looking, twenty-something –” I cut Damien off by kissing him.
“No one could ever come close to you, babe.”
Damien smiles. “Nice save.”
The next thing I pull out is a photo and unable to hold back, I let a few tears fall down my cheeks. It’s a picture of my family, my parents, Uncle John, Aunt Sharon, Pops, Seth, Damien, me, and Paul all cuddled in together, smiling the brightest of smiles.
“We look so happy,” I say softly.
“We were,” Damien assures me. “That was your twenty-first birthday.”
“We, erm…” I start, wracking my brain. “My parents organised a party, right?”
“Yeah.” Damien smiles. “Even half of my Northern Ireland lot made the trip over.”
“Really?”
“Hell, yeah,” Damien states enthusiastically. “They bloody loved you, and my lot never turn down a good party.” I laugh, then groan… You know the drill.
Although, come to think of it… “Speaking of family,” I say. “Where does Amy fit into all of this?”
Damien sighs. “She’s in the dark.”
I furrow my brow in confusion. “But how? I mean, I know she was in Australia, but she’s been back a year, and you must have talked about me, right?”
Damien shakes his head. “Not to Amy.”
“Why the hell not?”
He laughs. “Because I didn’t want her getting involved,” he says. “She can be a meddling cow when she wants to be.”
“Are you serious?” I ask. “You kept me a secret because you were worried about her meddling?”
He sighs. “I guess maybe on some level I knew reconnecting with you wasn’t going to be plain sailing, and I didn’t want anything or anyone to screw it up. That, and you were shot and kidnapped, babe. Ray refused to go into detail, but for all I knew, you were still in danger. Ray faked your death for crying out loud. That’s not exactly an everyday occurrence, and I didn’t want to risk the wrong person getting wind you were alive.”
Fair point. “But what about pictures? Keepsakes?”
“By the time Amy showed back up,” he explains, “Dad had already moved twice. Everything I had was either at the Army base or in this box, which my dad kept in his attic, just in case you were wondering.”
Damien smirks, and I shoot him a sarcastic ha-ha face. He can’t blame me for wanting a thorough explanation, but I’m pleased to say he’s answered my questions to a satisfactory standard.
“You know Amy’s gonna kill you, right?”
He laughs. “She’ll get over it.”
Turning my attention back to the box, I pick out another photo and laugh. Damien is dressed as John Travolta from Grease, me as Olivia Newton-John, right down to the skin-tight, black leather catsuit. Paul is beside Damien as Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean and Seth is Lily Savage. Damien leans in to have a closer gander and smiles.
“The veterans costume party,” Damien explains, and although I’m amused, I don’t remember jack. “Charity thing.”
“I can imagine it was a great night,”
“We had a lot of great nights,” Damien assures me. “And days, and weekends…” I smile softly. “You looked so damn hot that night.” Pretty sure my insides just did a backflip. “And this,” Damien says, handing me another picture, “is just after I asked you to marry me.”
Okay, I’m crying now. I can’t help it. I mean, I remember Damien’s proposal, but it’s one thing to have the image in my mind and another to see proof sitting in my hand. Damien pulls me into his arms and kisses my forehead.
“You made my dreams come true that night,” Damien says softly.
“Okay, if you’re trying to get me to stop crying,” I tease, “you’re doing a shitty job.”
Damien laughs. “Just as long as they’re tears of happiness.”
“Of course they are,” I exclaim, pulling away to have another look at the beautiful picture of Damien and me kissing under the moonlight, nothing but a barrier and the ocean as a backdrop.
A thought hits me. “Engagement ring?”
Damien’s face saddens. “If you don’t have it…” I shake my head. I guess anything could’ve happened to it.
Once again deciding not to dwell, I continue to sift through the huge pile of photos, smiling away as my tears dry up and revelling in the evidence of a life filled with love and laughter. Until – go ahead and shake your head at me – my insecurities resurface, and my smile fades. Damien, because he never misses a thing, doesn’t hesitate in calling me out.
“What?” he asks, but I shake my head. “Babe, I can practically see the cogs turning in your head.”
“Just…” I pause, dropping the photos to the couch. “I guess I’m realising you didn’t fall in love with the scarred me. You’re in love with the memory of me, the me in these pictures –”
