Call You Mine (Servite Academy)

Chapter Twenty-Four

WYNTER

B liss. That’s the only way to describe the stage Damon and I have finally arrived at. After a month of tension since the first time we had sex, leading up to weeks of uncertainty and finally deciding to say fuck the contract—we’ve finally hit bliss. It’s as if we’re walking amongst the clouds. Every night feels like paradise on earth.

It’s crazy to think that just months ago, we were finally giving into the sexual tension that was eating at us both and we’ve never been happier. Waking up by his side only to end the night wrapped in him, I never imagined it would feel so right. Like this is where I was meant to be my whole life.

It also helps that Enzo has been radio silent for the last month, allowing me to forget my still very present past.

Nothing, not a peep from him nor my mother, who, according to Ace, really left town after her confrontation with him and Damon, though they both still refuse to tell me how they did it.

Getting ready for work tonight is a pain. I’m exhausted and sore from the extracurricular activities Damon and I have taken part in at night, and then again every morning before we start our day. Not that I’m complaining, but if it wasn’t for the fact we both have day jobs, I’m not sure we’d ever get out of bed. However, we both have to go in. I’ve struggled with an intense feeling of uncertainty all day since it’ll be one of the first nights in a while we won’t be together. Tonight’s one of our busiest nights at the Silver Wolf, and Damon said something about important business to attend to with some investor he’s trying to convince to buy his shares of Kingsman so he can be out of that for good.

The day he told me he wanted out, my heart nearly burst with joy. Him getting out of Kingsman meant cutting all ties with Clarissa and any other woman who ever thought they could have what’s mine.

My makeup is done so all I need is to get dressed, my usual Silver Wolf t-shirt I use on Thursday nights, paired with a black leather miniskirt and matching knee-high boots.

As I get dressed, I stare at my reflection in my closet mirror, specifically at the tattoo Damon gave me on my upper thigh.

Mine.

One word, four letters, so much meaning.

I was his, in every sense of the word. Mind, body, heart and soul—and whatever else I had to give. He owned me, not as a possession he wanted to control, but as a gift he won over with his kindness, his compassion, his entire being.

Those are not words anyone would use to describe Damon Drake, but with me, he was different. He was all of that, and so much more. Especially this last month. And I truly didn’t quite understand what it all meant.

Quickly slipping into my outfit, I move around the room gathering my purse, phone and a jacket for the end of my shift, when I suddenly become incredibly dizzy and nauseous. Reaching for my phone, I take a seat on the bed, closing my eyes to steady my spinning head.

“Woah,” I say out loud, trying my hardest to fight the sudden wave of nausea crashing through me. Unlocking my phone, I open the incoming text from Scarlett. A sweet picture of Caeli, Damon and I in front of the castle at Disneyland.

Damon looks like the typical Disney Dad—a backpack over his shoulders, Mickey ears over his baseball cap, and a balloon in one hand. I’m carrying Caeli on my hip, and I can’t help but laugh at the memory of all the people who kept congratulating us for such a beautiful daughter. If you’d see Caeli and me alone, you’d never think she was my daughter, but add Damon to the mix with his hair just slightly darker than hers. It’s easy to guess she’d take after her dad.

I read the message that pops up under the photo.

Scarlett: Caeli misses Nini and Uncle D. Can’t believe it’s been a month since you guys took her and she doesn’t stop talking about it.

My stomach drops as I reread Scarlett’s text, my heart rate increasing as a blinding wave of nausea ripples through me once more. A month. It's been a month since our trip to Disneyland, which means it’s been a month and eight days since the party they threw for Stella and Ember. The reason I was so emotional that day and nearly cried every two seconds was because I was at the end of my period. A period I just realized I hadn’t gotten in over a month.

No, no, no. I was on birth control. I took it daily, though thinking back on it now, was I still taking it? There were days these last few weeks when Damon and I wouldn’t get out of bed until the early afternoon. I typically set alarms for the early morning, to remind myself to take it but, was I still remembering it when Damon was the one who’d shut off my alarms on the weekend?

“Fuck, fuck,” I curse to myself, bile rushing up my throat. I rush to the bathroom, heaving into the toilet bowl, barely making it in time before all of my breakfast ends up on the floor beneath me. I vomit into the toilet until there’s nothing left in me.

Slamming my head against the wall, I pull out my phone, sending a quick text to the only person I can think of telling right now.

Me: I need your help.

This cannot be happening.

Deep breaths. Inhale, exhale.

I’m sitting in the Silver Wolf’s bathroom, waiting for Jeremy to bring me what I asked for before I start my shift. When the realization that I might be pregnant hit me like a wave of terror, I panicked. Having no one else to go to with a secret like this, I texted Jeremy and asked him to buy me a pregnancy test, or four, from the drugstore, then sneak his way into the women’s restroom without being caught.

A soft knock sounds against the door, followed by another two. I open the door and pull him inside by the collar of his shirt, slamming his back against the door before locking it.

“Woah, woman. I have a girlfriend, and you might have your boyfriend's baby in you.”

I want to slap him for being such an idiot. “Shh, shut the hell up Jere, someone might hear you.”

His eyes go wide in fear, and I feel terrible for yelling at him when he’s only here because I asked him to do me a favor. “Oh shit, my bad. Is it a secret or something?”

“Do you think I’d be banking you to sneak into the women's restroom to bring me a pregnancy test if I wanted the entire world to know?” I mock a little too much sarcasm in the bit of my tone. God, what is it with my mood today?

“Yeah, dumb question,” he answers himself.

Cradling my face in my hands, I walk over to the bathroom sink and run my fingers through my hair in desperation. I’m breaking out in a cold sweat, my anxiety rippling through, and I play potential scenarios in my head. “I’m sorry, Jere. I’m just nervous.”

Jeremy joins me, handing me a plastic back he pulls out from underneath his shirt. “Want me to stay with you?”

How awkward is this? Jeremy and I are not necessarily friends. We’re co-workers, though I see and talk to him more than I do any other of my so-called friends, not that I have many. Yet sharing this moment with him, yeah, not going to happen. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just come out when I'm done.”

He pats me on my back, and I know he’s just as unsure about what to do in this situation as I am. “If you’re sure.” I’m not, but what I really need is to just be alone. I nod, unable to say anything as another wave of nausea hits me. “Alright, well, good luck Wyn.”

Don’t I fucking need it.

Ughh, what is that smell?

My stomach churns at the potent aroma of garlic coming from the back of the house. The kitchen’s been closed for over an hour, but the scent has permeated the entire bar, making me incredibly nauseated. Then again, that’s been my normal all evening.

I let out a shrill cry, just like the one that erupted from me after seeing the word pregnant appear—at least when I finally stopped hyperventilating—on the four pregnancy tests I forced Jeremy to buy me and then took in the bar restroom, which only confirmed what I already knew to be true.

I’m pregnant. I’m having Damon Drake’s baby.

“Oh God, not again,” I curse under my breath as I swallow back the bile that creeps its way up my esophagus.

It’s nearly one in the morning, the bar having closed just a few minutes ago is now empty except for Jeremy and me. Thursday nights, college nights, are a complete nightmare compared to the weekend rush. Friday through Sunday, we have not only a clientele of fraternity bros who get drunk off of two beers and start hitting on anyone in sight.

Trying to ignore the way my stomach recoils, a pulling sensation that threatens to make me immobile, I shrug it off and try my hardest to get back into my closing duties—wiping down the bar tops and organizing the clean glasses Jeremy just brought over from the dishwasher. At least, the half that didn’t end up shattered on the floor.

I should have gone home the moment I saw the tests come back positive, but it was one of our busiest nights, and Jade and Bass both had the night off. They were counting on me to be here and it’s not like I could have just said why I needed to leave.

The stench of garlic hits me once more. What the hell are they doing back there, trying to rid off the vampires?

“Fuck, Jade’s going to take that out of my paycheck,” Jeremy whines, sweeping up the last of the shards of glass that scattered across the floors.

If he wasn’t so anxious about everything all the time, Jeremy would be a pretty cool guy. He’s around my age, soft brown curly hair and honey brown eyes that give him that boy next door look. He sort of reminds me of Kai, only less troubled. I know little else about him other than he has a pretty toxic relationship with his girlfriend. That I only know because of the constant bickering I overhear on their not so quiet phone calls.

“You know Jade’s not the type,” I assure him, trying to settle the already neurotic vibes coming off him. He’s been arguing with his girlfriend all night. The back and forth has given me a headache, especially after Jeremy came back from his break with eyes red and swollen from crying in the bathroom. He swears his allergies have been acting up, but I’m not an idiot. I can spot a heartsick man from a mile away.

“I swear I’m fine. They just slipped.” Bullshit. He is definitely not fine.

“I just don’t get why she keeps bringing up a relationship that has been dead for over three years.”

“Jeremy, why don’t you just go home? I’ll close up here. Anyway, we’re almost done.”

He wipes at his nose, his eyes once again red and filled with tears. “Are you sure?” he asks between sniffles. God, that sound is definitely grossing me out. “That would definitely help. I can talk to Jenny face to face and…”

“Just go Jeremy,” I shout when a drop of snot falls upon his lower lip. Yup, I feel it coming again.

“No.” he shakes his head and picks up one rag I was using. “You’re the one who’s had the shittier day. Finding out you’re pregnant, not that having a baby is shitty, but you didn't really seem all that excited.” And now he’s nervously ranting. “No, go.”

If he doesn’t leave, I’ll be kicking him out myself.

Suddenly, my phone rings, after three incoming messages back-to-back. “Just go, Jere. Being alone, in silence, might do me some good before I have to go home and face the reality of how my life’s about to change.”

He nods, setting the towel in his hand on the counter. “If you need anything, call me. Maybe the two of us can start a life together if our significant others don’t accept us for who we are.” I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his offer, and more so at the fact he doesn’t seem to joke in the slightest.

“Go Jere, before I change my mind.”

As he walks away, his earlier comment flashes in my mind. Was I not excited? It was a baby. I was growing a fucking life inside of me, a tiny little human I made with the man I was one hundred percent sure I was in love with. Then why did I feel so uneasy? I should have been thrilled, ecstatic to share the news with him and everyone, but I couldn’t even say it out loud.

Looking down at my phone as it chimes once more, I open the unread messages, dropping another stack of glasses onto the ground when I nearly fall back from the shock of what I see on my screen.

“No,” I cry out, staring at the photo that's just come in. What have I done?

There’s a message underneath the photo, a photo of Luke, his face bloody and bruised as he sits tied to a chair. This can’t be real.

2124173422: Did you know fellow conspirators are typically found equally guilty as the perpetrators themselves?

2124173422: Tell me, carina, would you consider this man guilty?

2124173422: Because I do, and so are you. Run if you haven’t yet, Snow. I’m getting closer. - XOXO, E

Panic floods within me as I frantically scroll through my phone and pull up the last number I have for Luke, the same one he hasn’t been answering at. I reach a hand out to the bar top to steady myself, praying he answers this once. “The voice mailbox for this number is full…”

I hang up and try again, but the same message comes up.

Should I call the cops? No, I haven’t yet because if anyone’s guilty, it’s me. I am the one who ran after stabbing my husband in the neck with his own knife. Sure, it was in self-defense, but it’s my word against the corpse of a dead man. Even in death, I’m sure Enzo holds more power.

Unsure of what else to do, I call Damon, hoping he’ll answer me. “Answer me,” I curse to myself when the phone just keeps ringing.

“Please leave a message after the tone.”

Beep.

“Damon, it’s me. I…” I pause, not knowing what to even say to him. If I tell him the truth, at least some version of it, tell him someone’s been sending me threatening messages and I now fear they’ve stepped it up and are stalking me and hurting people I know, he’ll lose his shit. Not to mention he won’t let up until I confess everything, and I don’t think I will ever be able to do that.

I realize I’ve been silent for too long. There’s no way he won’t think something is wrong. I clear my throat. “Just wanted to let you know I’ll be closing alone tonight. Jeremy went home and I have maybe about another half hour before I’m done here.” And now I’m rambling. “I’m probably fine I just, I swear I was just hearing things but…” Behind me a glass falls and I jump, shrieking into the phone. “Shit,” I curse before the line dies. When I look down at the phone in my hand, I see my phone battery has died.

“Fuck, fuck,” I scream, tossing a glass across the room toward the front door. It shatters against the wall just as a woman squeals when it flies just past her head.

“Holy shit, what the fuck? Are you crazy?” she cries out, and my blood runs cold when I see her face come into view.

Long, blonde hair combed perfectly in tight waves which fall along her shoulders and back—a stark contrast to the navy blue dress she’s wearing—appears under the dim light of the room. I’m jolted back, dropping the rest of the glasses that had survived Jeremy’s earlier mishap, jumping when the shards of glass hit the floor at my feet.

“How the hell did you get in here?” I ask, shocked as hell to see Carrington standing inside the bar right across from me. I hadn’t only seen her since I first came back to visit shortly after I left with Enzo, but she was the last person I thought I would see here tonight. Specifically, because our last meeting was not cordial.

Of course Carrington ignores me, strutting toward me with a frightfully angry scowl. “Where is my brother?” she demands.

I shake my head, my body suddenly tingling and going numb. “What?”

“Don’t play stupid and answer me, bitch.” Carrington steps up to the bar and reaches for me, catching me off guard and grabbing me by my hair to pull me closer.

“Ow, let go of me, you crazy bitch!” I try to pull away, but she’s fucking ravenous tonight.

“I know you’ve talked to him. He told me last month he was back in town and he’d been in contact with you. Said he ran into you in New York and you followed him back home.”

Okay, well, that’s just bullshit. Why would Luke tell his sister about New York if we’re supposed to be under the radar? Does he not know Carrington will literally tell the entire world everything just to piss me off? Suddenly fear cripples me as I remember the photo. Does she know he’s hurt? Did she get the same photo from Enzo?

I pull out of her grasp, though not without losing a few strands of hair. “Look Carrie, I don’t know what Luke told you, but I haven’t heard from him since the day I left New York. That was over two months ago.”

“I don’t believe you. I know you always had a thing for him, probably left to follow him to New York. Apparently, it’s where he’s been this whole time. How could you not tell me, Wynter?” Her voice suddenly softens. “We fucking mourned him, thought he was dead, and this whole time he was out on a romantic rendezvous with you.”

She’s got it all wrong. “Okay, slow down there. That is not what happened. The one and only time I saw Luke was when…” I pause, unsure of how to say anything without making her more suspicious. “Is the last day I was in New York. I had no idea he was there. Mind you, I also believed he was dead.”

Both Carrington and I are startled when the front door is swung open, revealing a very pissed off and frankly worried looking Damon. He charges, guns blazing toward us and when he catches sight of all the glass shattered along the floor, he nearly loses it.

“Wynter,” he shouts out, a little breathless, like he’s run all the way here.

Carrington looks over at him and then back at me, a sheer look of confusion on her face. “What the hell is he doing here?” she says, just as Damon reaches me and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in for a mind-numbing kiss. Holy shit, I’ve fucking missed him.

“Baby, are you okay?” he asks. “I got your message. You sounded worried, scared even. Is everything okay?”

I recall the voicemail I left him and realize I am in deep. I’m going to have so much explaining to do, especially now that Carrie’s here demanding I tell her where her brother is.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I was just a little jumpy. Jeremy left. It was dark and quiet, too quiet. I thought I was hearing things. Turns out it was just my dear old friend Carrie, breaking in.”

Carrie rolls her eyes, flicking her hair over her shoulder and crossing her arms over her chest. The move makes her tits press tighter together. Is she fucking kidding me right now?

“I didn’t break in. The hot bartender didn’t lock the door on his way out. Now don’t change the subject. I know you’re lying, Wynter. All you’ve ever done is lie about everything.”

“I’ll fucking kill him for that,” Damon whispers against my lips, totally ignoring the fact she is right behind us, watching the whole thing with her mouth gaping open.

“What the hell is this?” Carrington asks, stunned by what she sees. She always had a thing for Damon, not that she would ever admit it, but she was pretty obsessed with his bad boy charm since he first stepped foot at Servite Academy. How could she not? Everyone at the academy was drawn to the darkness he exuded and the whole, I give no fucks , bad boy attitude.

Especially after finding out he and Scarlett were a thing. When Ace started his infatuation with Scarlett, Carrie went after Damon, thinking she’d enact some revenge dating scheme only he never gave her the time of day.

“Get the fuck out, Carrington.” Damon beats me to the punch. “I won’t let you stand here and insult Wynter.”

“Wow Wynnie, I knew you’d gone soft, but I never thought you’d stoop so low and start fucking the help. Though I hear, he’s not the same penniless punk anymore.”

I’m so fucking tired of having to deal with her on top of everything today. “Say what you want to say, Carrington. I honestly stopped caring about what you or anyone thinks of me a long time ago. Life continues after high school, but you seem to be stuck in that mean girl persona you were always a professional at.”

The bitch scoffs, “Don’t forget you were just as bad, if not worse, than me. Or have you forgotten, Ice Princess?”

I push out of Damon’s embrace and turn toward her. “We are nothing alike, Carrie, because I grew the fuck up and realized all that bullshit we were raised to believe, that we were better than everyone else…well it’s just that. Bullshit.” Turning back to Damon, wrap my arms around his neck and tug him toward me until our lips are a mere inch away from one another. Licking my lips, I graze him with my tongue. “Besides, help or not, best sex of my fucking life.”

“God, you two are disgusting.”

Damon bites down on my bottom lip and grabs my ass with both hands. “I won’t warn you again, Carrington,” he says over his shoulder. “Get the fuck out of this bar or I swear to God, I’ll drag your ass out by that pretty little fake head of blonde hair you’ve got.”

Understanding that she’s now outnumber and lost this round, Carrington pouts, though she spews another line of venom before strutting out. “Whatever. You two deserve each other. This isn’t over, Wynter. If anything happens to my brother because of you, mark my words. You will regret ever stepping foot back in Hillcrest Hills.”