Turning, she places distance between us. “I have to.”
I won’t cry. I won’t cry. A tear falls down my cheek. Dammit, I am not going to cry! Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath as I sit in front of my computer screen. Damian’s name is typed into Google, all I have to do is hit enter. It feels as if I’m invading his privacy, but I have to protect myself.
With a racing heart and a sick feeling in my gut, I press down on the enter key. Hundreds of articles and photos appear, mostly of Extreme Mindlessness. I click on the first one.
“Damian Walker, son of Brazilian soccer great Andre Revilino launches home workout program, Extreme Mindlessness , with college roommate Harry Reed.”
“Damian Walker and Harry Reed make Forbes top 100 companies of 2013.”
On and on the articles go about Damian and Reed, and I realize I need to limit my search. I type in Damian Walker and Megan Jones.
Nothing comes up.
I try Damian Walker and car accident. Again, my screen is filled with hundreds of articles.
“An unidentified female died today in a car accident involving Damian Walker, son of soccer great, Andre Revilino. Sources claim the two were exclusively dating. The accident is still being investigated.”
“Damian Walker cleared of all wrongdoing in accident that killed rumored girlfriend whose name has still not been released.”
“Jeremy Silvers’ blood alcohol level three times above the legal limit when he crashed head on into Damian Walker’s Audi R8, killing the soccer star’s rumored girlfriend on impact. Her name has not been revealed to the media.”
My gut gets that uh-oh feeling. The one that tells you something isn’t right. If she were his girlfriend, someone would have known her name and spilled it to reporters immediately. It’s impossible to keep that kind of information hidden. How could Damian have kept her identity a mystery from all those reporters, and more importantly, why did he have to? What is so special about Megan Jones that Damian doesn’t want anyone to know she ever existed in the first place?
I hit on images and instantly regret it. The Damian being shown in these photos is not my Damian. He looks sick, too thin, and ashen, as if his entire world has come crashing down. The pictures span years of his life, and it’s clear which ones were shot in the three years following the accident, the years Thomas keeps throwing in his face. Damian was a tortured soul at one point in his life, and maybe he still is. But we all have our demons.
Sleep evades me all night. A multitude of scenarios as to what Damian and Megan could possibly be hiding runs through my brain, making me go almost crazy. Part of me is guilty I searched out information on the web, another part angry that I had to, but mostly I feel sad there is a piece of his life that damaged him so deeply he blames himself for another human being’s death. No one should have to carry that guilt, especially when it clearly wasn’t his fault.
By five in the morning, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a complete ass. Asking Damian to share something he clearly isn’t ready to wasn’t fair. While it feels like it’s been a lot longer, we’ve known each other a mere two months. Expecting him to trust me with something that changed his life forever is asking a lot. But, my reaction tells me one important thing. I want to be his person. The one he tells everything to, the one he comes home to at night. I don’t want to lose him over this. He’ll tell me one day, I know he will, I just need to be patient.
I have to go into work today and pack up all my belongings. Something I’m not looking forward to. But admitting to Damian that I was wrong is also not high on my priority list.
Dressing in jeans and a sweater I head out for what is sure to be a crap day. The second I open the front door, I notice Damian’s large form standing there, waiting for me. I’m slightly relieved and slightly terrified that he’s here. I have no idea how we can move forward or if I can get over my need to know everything about him, but looking at his dark sad eyes, I know I need to try.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Addison . . . last night,” he takes a deep breath. “Last night sucked. Can we come to some truce on this, some middle ground? Losing you . . . fuck, I can’t lose you over this. Please.”
Pain plagues his voice and there is an insecurity I’ve never heard before. I don’t want to be at an impasse with him, I’m not ready to let this relationship fade. “I have to go to work and pack up my things. Will you be here in a few hours?”
He exhales a deep breath and looks directly at me, his dark brown eyes filled with hope. “I’ll go with you. You shouldn’t have to go alone.”
“Does Megan’s secret affect Emily?” I can’t help myself. I need to know how far I can push these questions before he pushes back.
He gazes at the ground. “Yes.”
“Would it change her future if it got out?”
He nods in reply.
“Are you her father?”
He laughs, his focus now on me. And instinctively I smile in return.
“No. I have no idea who her dad is and if I ever find out, I can promise you I’ll beat the shit out of him.”
Nodding I grab onto his thick arms and pull him close to me. I can smell the grass from the track on his skin, feel the cut muscles of his biceps under his white thermal. Making sure I have his complete attention, I look up into his eyes and say, “You are not responsible for her death. Do you understand me?”
He’s silent and his eyes search mine, looking for some sort of forgiveness or understanding that this is his personal hell and he’s going to live it anyway he wants. “Addison, I—”
I get up on my tiptoes and kiss him, my arms wrapping around his neck and my body pushing up flush against his hard abs. He holds onto me like he’ll fall if I let him go, his arms tightening around me and his tongue breaking through my lips, dancing with mine. He groans into my mouth and I want to pull him back inside, but I have things to do today and I can’t lose focus.
Backing away, I need to ask him one more question before I can put this behind me. “Will you ever tell me who Megan was? What she meant to you?”
He’s quiet his haunted eyes searching my face. His thumb traces my cheek down and across my bottom lip, his eyes following the path it takes. “If it’s really that important to you, I will. But I’d rather not.”
It’s an honest response and for now, I’ll take it. “I won’t push anymore Damian, but you hurt me.”
“I know. I need some time to figure it out. You surprised me last night, took me off guard. Just please; don’t walk out on me like that again. I slept like shit and I’d rather sleep with you angry, than not sleep with you at all.”
His honesty touches me—fires up the slow burn that my heart feels when I’m near him. He can’t tell me who Megan was and for now, I need to respect that, because Damian, wants this, wants us, just as badly as I do. Linking my arm in his, I lead us towards the stairs. “Come on, Offside. I have an office to pack up. You can sit in the car and wait for me.”
“You good?” Damian is holding my hand as he drives towards the hospital. Veronica had been instructed to babysit me while I gathered my personal belongings, making sure I didn’t take anything that belonged to the company. She kept apologizing, but I’d rather it was her watching over me than some security team.