Chapter 331: An Extra Son For Dad

Spending the night with Damien Lockwood taught me one thing: the guy had no regard for my physical well-being at all. I mean, none whatsoever. Zilch. I learned just how true that was the the morning when I tried to sit up in bed the next day after another day of him relentlessly pounding me.

Damn, he wasn’t playing around when he said he’d fuck me everyday to make up for lost time.

In that moment, every single decision I’d made in the last twenty-four hours came rushing back, including the ones I thought were brilliant at the time.

My body seemed to be filing a formal complaint against me, and judging by how my muscles protested when I moved, that complaint was probably going to be long, detailed, and include a few photos showing just how much damage had been done.

Beside me, Damien was lounging against the headboard, coffee in one hand, looking way too comfortable for someone who had significantly contributed to my current state of agony. His black hair was a bit messy, his look was relaxed, and that smug, stupid smile on his face suggested he was already preemptively enjoying my complaints before I’d even said a word.

I hated him.

But, annoyingly, I also loved him. That made things incredibly inconvenient when all I wanted was to keep a shred of dignity.

"Fucking asshole," I managed to say, trying hard to shift positions without any sudden moves that might send my soul soaring out of my body.

Damien glanced down at me, those blue eyes practically sparkling with amusement. "Good morning to you too, Sunshine."

"Don’t ’Sunshine’ me. I’m suffering here."

"I can see that." His grin widened as he leaned down to plant a kiss on my forehead, clearly thinking that a little affection would distract me from the fact that I was seriously contemplating filing a report against him. "You were pretty enthusiastic about your choices last night."

"That sounds like something a guilty person would say."

"Are you accusing me of something, Oliver?"

"I’m saying you’re a menace to society, and if you don’t start acting right, I might have to report you to the psychology department."

"Do you think they could help me?"

"Nope, but I could arrange for your picture to be featured on a really educational poster about dangerous behaviors."

Damien laughed, that warm sound making my heart skip in a way that was kind of embarrassing.

I had missed that laugh for years, and even now, with him lying next to me, looking at me like I was the most fascinating thing ever, part of me still couldn’t quite believe I was allowed to have him back.

Then he reached for the breakfast tray on the bedside table, and I remembered I was supposed to be mad at him.

"I made breakfast," he announced, carefully setting the tray across my lap like it was something way more valuable than just toast, scrambled eggs, and some fruit.

I eyed the food suspiciously. "Is this some kind of apology?"

"It’s breakfast."

"An apology dressed up as breakfast, then."

"Just eat, angel."

I looked up, ready to unleash another brilliant argument, but it became a lot harder to find the words when he pressed a kiss against my temple and settled in next to me with his coffee.

It felt downright unfair that someone could be so infuriating and yet so charming at the same time.

So, I ate my breakfast, accepted another kiss when I complained that the toast was too good to be wasted on someone in my sorry state, and eventually let Damien help me out of bed when it became clear I had to get dressed whether I wanted to or not.

By the time we left for Crestview Bay General Hospital to finally pick up my dad, I was walking with a slight limp, which I totally blamed on him, while he carried our bags to the car like a guy who’d never been accused of anything bad in his life.

"You know," I said as I settled into the passenger seat, "if I ever go missing under mysterious circumstances, just know I’ll be haunting you."

Damien paused at the door, looking at me with an expression that was almost suspiciously loving. "I’ll be looking forward to it."

"You’re supposed to be scared."

"I’ll make sure your favorite coffee is in stock in the afterlife."

"That’s not enough. I want my own room in the mansion, with candles and a picture of me looking fabulous."

"I’ll have the portrait commissioned."

"And a plaque stating you were responsible for my untimely demise."

He leaned down, kissed me, and closed the door before I could throw out more demands. I watched him walk around the car, privately wondering if it was possible to be in love with someone and still have the right to throw something at him.

Turns out, I thought it was.

The hospital smelled as it always did, with that particular mix of disinfectant, freshly mopped floors, and the faint whiff of coffee wafting from the little café by the entrance.

I had spent enough time there over the years to navigate its hallways blindfolded, which wasn’t exactly impressive considering how many hours I’d paced those same halls worrying about Dad. Even with all the good news we’d received recently, the hospital still had a way of tightening my stomach.

Damien noticed the shift in my expression as we approached Dad’s ward, his hand finding its way to the small of my back, giving me quiet reassurance that made it easier to keep going.

When we walked into the room, Dad was sitting on the edge of his bed, cane by the bedside table, looking far more impatient than a guy who was set to be discharged had any right to be.

"There you are!" he exclaimed, brightening up when he spotted us. "I was starting to think you two had eloped without telling me!"

I almost crashed into the foot of the bed. "Good morning to you too, Dad."

"Well, I had to keep myself entertained somehow. The nurse already threatened to take my remote because I keep changing the channel every time she comes in."

"Maybe that’s because you blast the volume until the whole floor hears your shows."

"That’s a terrible accusation, Oliver, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread malicious rumors about your innocent father."

Damien greeted him with a smile, then helped me gather Dad’s belongings, and for a few minutes, the three of us slipped into our usual routine of playful teasing while we waited for the doctor to come in.

But when the doctor finally walked in, my attention immediately went to the folder in her hands. Dr. Patil smiled as she reviewed Dad’s latest results, explaining how his liver was functioning exceptionally well and that the recent tests showed no concerning signs.

His recovery was going even better than expected, and while he’d still need regular follow-ups and physical therapy, there was no medical reason for him to stay in the hospital.

Most importantly, he was getting stronger and managing with his cane instead of relying on his wheelchair for daily activities.

I absorbed every word, barely breathing until she wrapped up the follow-up details and reassured us that Dad was doing incredibly well. For a moment, I couldn’t quite process what I’d just heard. Then, relief washed over me so suddenly that my eyes filled with tears before I even realized it.

Dad noticed right away, his expression softening as I rushed over and wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight enough that he let out an amused laugh.

"Easy there, Ollie," he said, hugging me back. "I’m just leaving the wheelchair."

"Don’t joke about that," I mumbled, burying my face against his shoulder. "You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined hearing those words."

Dad laughed again, rubbing my back while I tried to get myself together, and when I finally pulled away, he used his thumb to wipe a tear from my cheek, just like he had when I was a kid.

"You’ve worried enough for a lifetime, Ollie."

"I reserve the right to worry about you until I’m eighty."

"At eighty, you’ll probably be stressed about your own knees."

"Then I’ll worry about both of us."

It was only when Dad shifted his gaze past my shoulder that I remembered Damien had been standing a bit away, giving us space.

He had his hands in his pockets, and even though his expression was gentle, there was an uncertain look in his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure if he should step into a moment that was so clearly just for my dad and me.

Dad, of course, wasn’t going to let him stay a bystander.

"What are you standing there for, son?" he called out warmly. "Come join us!"

Damien blinked, clearly taken aback by the invitation, and for a quick second, I saw that younger man I remembered from university days, the one who never quite knew what to do when someone offered him affection without expecting something back.

Then his eyes found mine. I smiled at him, holding out my hand, and whatever uncertainty was left in his expression faded as he crossed the room.

He stepped into the embrace quietly, one arm around Dad and the other resting gently on my back.

Dad squeezed us both, clearly thrilled with this arrangement, and I found myself standing between the two men I loved most in the world, listening to Dad laugh about how he’d somehow managed to gain an extra son without any paperwork.