Master of Death (Hollow #2)

CHAPTER 3

The pain is still there; it hasn’t subdued at all since Damon ended things between us.

To think last weekend, we were all in, and now we’re all out.

Being home with Harvey brings back a sense of normalcy that I need to get through the heartbreak caused by Damon.

Or caused by myself.

He warned me. He told me, didn’t he? Damon told me he’d stomp all over my stupid, naive heart. I just didn’t listen. I didn’t take him seriously. I didn’t understand that all this time I was madly falling for him.

He meant what he said about giving me my own client files. I enjoy these new responsibilities, especially now that I crave a distraction. It doesn’t work in my favor, though, when Damon attends that first meeting with me.

He’s here to supervise me and be my guide, if need be, but I can’t help but notice the way he fondles the pen in his hand, the same hand responsible for leaving me a quivering mess when we slept together.

We meet with two government employees to oversee and report on a few projects. A part of me is excited for this type of work. Damon asked me not long ago if I wanted to do field work, and I thought I wanted to, but the more I’m exposed to the office side of things, the more I love the business part of it.

It incorporates my degree in environmental sciences and biology and adds a touch of business.

“If you need help, you can delegate. Ask that girl.”

I hide my smile as he rises from his chair. “You mean Marie.”

He gives me a look that says whatever and waits for me to follow him out of the boardroom.

The walk back to my desk is a short one, and with one look he manages to completely break me again. I think he’s about to say something, but he heads for his office instead.

My mind is soaking up the memories of his kisses, recalling every word he sent my way, every feeling he invoked in me with the smallest of touches. When he closes his door, I snap back to reality, knowing I have my work cut out for me.

One of the directors we met didn’t waste time, getting her assistant to send me all the materials needed.

I work the afternoon away until my phone vibrates against my desk, and I notice Claire’s name pop up. I’m tempted to ignore her, but I know I can’t.

Harvey won’t get rid of her, and as much as I don’t like them spending so much time together in the space of our home, I know she’s good at what she does.

On paper, Claire is his nurse, helping him with bladder and pill management, even though he can handle both on his own. In reality, she supports him as his PT assistant, using the exercises McKleen prescribes.

But most of all, she makes him step away from video games for a little while and entices him to move.

She even found ways to make him smile and basically have him fall in love with her.

I read her text, in which she asks me out for a late lunch to talk. I check the clock, and since I haven’t eaten yet, and know it’s best to get this over with, I reluctantly agree.

For Harvey’s sake.

I forgo telling Damon, since whomever he’s on the phone with is pressing his buttons.

Besides, it’s Friday.

I grab my purse and my long coat, glad we’re nearing the end of February. I’m wearing knee-length black leather boots today, so I don’t change shoes.

I head out to meet Claire at a local sandwich bar. I wish we would’ve come during lunch hour to avoid the awkwardness that will ensue.

“Hi, Gemma!” She waves at me.

“Hey.” I sit across from her, holding the menu.

She’s pretty, with red, spitfire hair, as opposed to my dark-amber hair. But her beauty is nothing compared to her outlook on her life. She’s a happy, positive person. She smiles and she laughs, and as much as I want to, I can’t bring myself to hate her.

The waiter comes and takes our orders, and a part of me wonders why I’m here.

“Thanks for agreeing to see me.” She rubs her fingertips.

“Yeah, well ...” I don’t even know what to say. What do I want her to know? To stay away from Harvey in any intimate capacity? “We had to meet at some point.”

She nods, tightening her ponytail. “I just wanted to say that I should’ve handled this better. As Harvey’s nurse and PT assistant, I completely failed my duty.”

She goes on and on about breaking the code of ethics while I tune her out.

If people find out Damon and I slept together, would they question his ability to best lead the company? I never once doubted Claire’s skills.

“Whatever feelings I have for Harvey will not jeopardize my job in any way, but I will keep things professional from now on.”

I want to tell her to shut up, to lose the rehearsed speech. I want to feel bad for her, because at the end of the day, isn’t that what I told myself too? That I’d give Harvey a second chance? Stay away from Damon in any unprofessional manner?

Though the minute I shared space with Damon, my promise to Harvey subconsciously flew out the window.

Claire might truly believe she’ll push away Harvey or any feelings she has for him. She might. She might not. But she won’t know until she’s back at our house again and all alone with him.

“Look, Claire . . .”

I wish I could say that I don’t fault her for anything, but that’d be a small lie. While Harvey and I were lost as a couple, when she came into his life, she came in blazing.

There’s jealousy running through the blood in my veins, intoxicating my thoughts.

“I hope you don’t hate me. I’m sorry I was out of line.”

Is that how Damon’s ex would feel about me if she knew we slept together?

“I don’t hate you,” I say as our waiter sets our plates on the table. We thank him, and I dig into my chicken Caesar salad, gathering my thoughts.

Weeks ago, I was angry at Claire for butting into my relationship, but now I can’t help thinking about my future.

“I guess I’m just wondering ... I mean, Harvey doesn’t physically need someone with him daily. His parents knew this when they hired you. It was more to have someone spend time with him and focus him on his physical therapy.”

She nods, yet despair flashes through her eyes. She didn’t expect me to cut down her hours today. Whether she’s worried about money or her relationship with Harv, I’ll never know.

It’s not my place to ask.

“Does Harvey know?”

I take another bite of my lunch, shaking my head. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

“I know ... I know he manages well on his own, but he’s also doing really well with therapy because of my help. And, well, I think he must get lonely sometimes.”

She struck a chord, playing my heart like a violin. Using the guilt card.

Because I know Harvey’s progressing better with her by his side—I know . I witnessed the improvement with my own eyes when I saw him walking to his closet one recent morning.

I also wonder how boring it would be for him to stay cooped up in his room if she doesn’t come over for a few hours a day. And that would physically set him back tenfold.

I tell her that I’ll let her know what we decide, and I emphasize the we . Inside, though, I’m chastising myself because I feel like I don’t deserve him anymore, not after what I did with Damon. Not after my thoughts keep drifting toward another man.

We finish our lunch and talk about my job, which makes me wonder how much Harv has told her about us.

After my lunch with Claire, I don’t see Damon the rest of the day—he’s out to a meeting all afternoon.

On my way home from work, I call Layla, my best friend, who’s still traveling the world with her fiancé. My twin sister, Gia, told her about a new man in my life, and it frustrates me that she once again revealed my secrets.

I’m used to it by now, but it doesn’t lessen my annoyance with my sister.

I dodge most of Layla’s questions about Damon, unwilling to speak to someone else about this. I’m grateful when she returns the subject to her trip and Gia’s pregnancy.

When I finally get home, I find Harvey watching TV. I do a double take after removing my coat and boots, because I find Harvey sitting on the couch, away from his wheelchair.

It’s not the first time, but the sight is a rare one.

I bring our bag of food with me. “Harvey.” I smile, and he gives me a nod in return. Seeing him like this, on the couch, fills me with pride.

“I got takeout,” I say, placing it on our food trays.

He smiles, and I wonder if he means it or not. Then I decide it doesn’t matter. If he’s trying, so will I.

I go to my room to change into comfy clothes and come back in a long T-shirt, fuzzy socks, and a loose hoodie.

I realize it’s nice to have him here when I sit next to him.

Then I remember that we might fight tonight. There’s no way he’ll want to reduce Claire’s hours.

We watch TV while eating, and he keeps watching me. He seems nervous for some reason. Maybe Claire told him about our lunch?

“What’s wrong?” What did he do with Claire now?

“Nothing. I wanted to try something.”

“Try what?” Before I have the chance to ask anything else, he takes my hand, coaxing my body to settle closer to his. Nerves intensify inside my stomach walls. My heart is practically in my throat as I sit next to him, hand in hand.

The screaming lady in my head is crying now. She’s so sad it hurts.

Why couldn’t he have done this before I met Damon? I’d like to believe I would’ve never fallen for Damon if Harv and I had been good.

“I want you to know that I appreciate everything you do for me.” He stares deep into my eyes like he’s trying to skydive into the window of my soul. I see the slight movement of his head inching closer to mine, and in a flash his lips are over mine—soft and apologetic.

It’s nothing like his old, urgent kisses. It’s barely a prolonged peck at first.

But his hand on the side of my neck feels nice. Especially when he lets his forefinger trace my collarbone—his past weakness.

I can’t even remember the last time he’s touched me like this. The last time we had sex—the day of the accident—it was just a quickie.

Flashes of Damon skim through my mind, and there’s no way to stop the turmoil growing within me.

I pull away, feeling as if I’m cheating on Damon.

A small laugh passes my lips, surprising Harv, as I run to the washroom and shut the door. As soon as I settle on the ceramic floor, my stomach hurls the contents of my dinner into the toilet.

When I’m done, I wipe my mouth with a tissue, gathering my breath.

“I’m so screwed.”

What will I do? What the hell will I do?

How can kissing him feel like a death sentence, like I broke an unbreakable vow with a man who doesn’t want me and left after sleeping with me?

I don’t wait for answers, knowing they never come.

Instead, I brush my teeth and wash my hands before heading back to the living room, sitting next to him, but with enough distance to clear my head.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Must’ve been the takeout.”

He nods, and I can’t bear seeing the sadness creeping into his eyes, so I take his hand in mine and squeeze it gently.

When it’s time to go to bed, I clean up, giving him space to transfer from the couch to his wheelchair.

The man hates for me to see him struggle, even though it’s not struggling—it’s progress. The amount of arm and torso strength he uses to end up in his wheelchair shows his improvement. He does it so swiftly, too, but his pride won’t let him see it that way.

I want to tell him about Claire, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Not tonight.

“I’m proud of you,” I tell him once he’s in his chair.

I see the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and he smiles before wheeling away. “Good night, Gemma.”