Chapter 307: Short Ass, Big Feelings

I stared at him. "We are absolutely not."

Damien’s mouth curved into a smile. "I agree with Frank."

"Whose side are you on, Damien?"

"Yours."

"You don’t sound like it."

I shot him a glare.

He smiled and there it was again.

That annoying familiarity.

That feeling that, despite everything, we still knew how to slip into old patterns without even trying.

It scared me more than the kissing had.

Because kissing could be blamed on emotions.

This felt like home and I turned away before that thought could sink in too deeply.

I reached for a mug on the top shelf, but before I could grab it, Damien stepped closer and reached over me. "I’ll get it."

"I can reach."

"You’re standing on your toes, short ass."

"I was not!"

"You were."

"I was strategically extending my height, how dare you?!"

He handed me the mug. "You’re still short."

I glared at him. "I fucking hate you, you know that?"

"No, you don’t."

The words came out so naturally that neither of us laughed afterward.

For a moment, the kitchen turned very quiet. Damien looked at me and I looked back at him.

Then Frank cleared his throat loudly from the table.

I turned away immediately. "I need more coffee."

"You haven’t finished the first cup."

"I need more emotional support."

Damien shook his head. "You haven’t changed much."

I shot him a sideways glance. "Neither have you, you’re still an asshole."

"No...I have."

There was something behind those words.Something neither of us mentioned, so I faced the counter again.

A few minutes later, Damien stood next to me while I prepped breakfast. He didn’t hover exactly, but he was close enough that our shoulders brushed whenever either of us moved.

At one point, I felt his fingers touch the collar of my shirt.

I stiffened. "What are you doing this time?"

"Your collar."

"My collar?"

"It was folded inward."

His fingers gently straightened it and I suddenly remembered the previous night, feeling heat creep up my neck.

I tugged the shirt higher to hide the hickeys.

Damien noticed and his gaze dropped for a moment before returning to my face.

I glanced down at my coffee.

"Did you sleep well?" Damien asked.

I hesitated but said, "Better than I have in years."

I looked up.

He wasn’t teasing, he was serious.

Something warm yet uncomfortable settled in my chest.

"That’s good." His gaze stayed on mine. "I forgot what it felt like to sleep beside you."

I swallowed. "Well, don’t get used to it, I’m still mad at you. "

He smiled faintly. "Yeah...I guess I deserve it."

We had breakfast together, with Frank sometimes throwing in comments that seemed innocent on the surface but were suspiciously timed.

Damien helped him adjust the blanket over his legs before sitting back down, and watching them together reminded me of how integral Damien once was to this house even when he had arrived just yesterday.

For a few moments, it almost felt like everything was the same.

Then Damien’s phone rang, the sound immediately shattered the warmth in the room.

He glanced at the screen.

I could see the change in him before I even realized it, his expression tightened.

The softness faded from his eyes, replaced by a colder, more controlled look.

He stood. "I need to take this."

Then he walked toward the porch and I watched him go.

I told myself I wasn’t watching.

But, for fuck’s sake...I was definitely watching.

The door closed behind him, and I could see him outside, one hand in his pocket, the phone pressed against his ear.

His posture completely changed, his shoulders were tense and his head was slightly lowered.

Whatever the person on the other end was saying, Damien wasn’t enjoying it.

I looked away, I tried to keep eating. But I couldn’t as thought of Damien’s family probably finding out that Damien had left the city to this small town to find me.

Dad noticed. "You’re worried."

"No."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oliver."

I sighed. "I don’t know."

"That sounds more honest."

I pushed the toast around my plate.

"I just..."

I stopped.

What was I supposed to say?

That I was scared?

That after finally understanding why Damien had disappeared, I was terrified something else might take him away again?

That the first morning I woke up next to him in four years felt temporary?

I glanced toward the porch again and Damien was still out there.

"I don’t like that look on his face," I admitted.

Dad followed my gaze and let out a grunt. "Neither do I."

A few minutes later, Damien came back in as he put his phone away. His face was calm again, almost perfectly neutral, but I could still see it.

The tension in his shoulders and the slight stiffness in his movements. The way his fingers curled briefly before relaxing at his side.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

He hesitated, that was enough to make my stomach turn.

"Yes," he finally said. "Just had some work to take care of. But everything is fine."

It was the same kind of response I’d heard from people trying very hard to downplay something serious.

Yeah... bullshit.

I stared at him and he stared right back, neither of us believed the other.

I wanted to ask who had called.

I wanted to know what they wanted.

I wanted to find out if his parents were involved, if the company was facing trouble, if someone had figured out where he was, if the life he had spent four years building was about to close in on him again.

But I didn’t ask, not yet at least.

Because Damien had only just come back.

And for the first time, I was starting to realize that him being back might not be the same as keeping him.

He’d fought for four years to reach me.

Now, standing in the quiet kitchen with my father watching us and the morning sunlight spilling across the floor, I realized there might still be something out there trying to pull him away again.

This morning, it already felt like time might not be the only thing working against us.