Master of Death (Hollow #2)

CHAPTER 15

In the morning, I shove the diary in my backpack and head for the woods near my dad’s house to read. It’s the perfect spring day to do so.

I feel uneasy, probably because I’m ruining Damon’s trust in me. There’s something else, though I can’t say what, but something feels wrong.

I walk for close to an hour before I nestle my back on a rock and keep reading the journal, grateful for the warmer weather.

Dad talks about Damon with such admiration and respect. He’s been talking a lot more about marriage lately. Marriage with Damon. I wonder what’s wrong with me. My friends would beg for Damon to ask for their hand in marriage, and I can’t seem to want to. I love Damon, but I don’t think we’re compatible. Gregory’s an artist too. He understands art. Damon’s all about facts and scientific data. I don’t care for any of it.

Dad offers to pay for my own studio, one of my choosing. He won’t spare any expense. He doesn’t want me to marry Gregory—says our families have too much history there. According to Dad, he has nothing against the man, he just prefers Damon. I want to say no because I can. I can choose who I want, but my mind keeps thinking of that studio, of making my artist dreams come true.

My heart hurts for Gregory. I love him so much I can’t breathe. I’d never wish this amount of pain on anyone. Love truly is the deadliest weapon of all. All I need to do is push him away until Dad buys my studio. Then we can be together.

Gregory isn’t too happy with our breakup. I can’t fault him. It breaks my heart too. He continues to seek me out, coming to my place unannounced, and I fear that Dad won’t pay for my studio if he suspects I told Gregory the truth.

Damon’s distant lately. I know he’s busy building his career, but sometimes I wonder if there’s more to it—if he knows.

Gregory showed up to my new studio today without calling first. Thank God Damon left an hour prior. My name is on the purchase agreement, so it’s officially mine. I was going to tell Gregory, but he was too angry to see reason. He couldn’t believe that I broke up with him. And kept talking about Damon, as if I wanted to be with Damon more than him. It makes sense that he wouldn’t know. That’s why I need to explain everything to him.

My heart is racing by the time I finish the diary. It ends there. Her entries are done. I wonder if the purple journal might reveal more of Damon.

I make my way back, my mind reeling.

Once I’m home, I hide the notebook in my purse and take a shower. It’s late afternoon, and Athena will be here soon. While I wait for her, I text Henrik, asking about Harv’s last PT appointment.

I also text Damon, letting him know I miss him. There’s a desperation in life that only fools in love can understand. I don’t call him though. I’m too riled up from the diary not to sound off.

Then Athena’s here, and I try to focus all my attention on her. We eat macaroni for dinner and watch a princess movie. I ask her all the questions in the world, including how she feels about becoming a big sister soon.

She falls asleep on me, and Gia and James return at eleven o’clock.

“You guys could’ve stayed out later, you know.”

James chuckles. “You know Gia and her daughter’s routine.”

My sister rolls her eyes and hugs me, thanking me for giving them a night off. I tell them I want to do it more often, especially when I have my own place. As they leave, I check my phone and see a few missed messages from Harv and Damon.

Harvey: How could you do this to me? Was I too much of a burden?

Harvey: A buden to u, bden to Hen and paents.

Damon: I’m bored.

Harvey: Rmber I love yaxoi.

I panic dial Harvey, and when the ring goes to voice mail, I try Henrik. I don’t need to ask him where he is. He’s out partying. I can hear the loud music in the background and the moans in the room.

“Jesus, Hen. I asked you to keep an eye on him. I think he’s drunk or high. His texts don’t make sense, and I can’t reach him.” I grab a sweater and my purse and lock the door behind me, stepping into my dad’s car.

“Chill, Gemma. He just wants your attention.”

“You promised you’d be there. He’s going through a hard time. Your threesomes can wait.” I hang up on him and drive thirty over the speed limit to Harvey’s.

A cold whiff of air hits me as I step out of the car. I’m in spandex leggings and a sweater. Not the warmest for colder nights.

My body shook the entire way here. I can’t even imagine what I’d do if Harvey hurt himself because of me.

I won’t even go there.

My thoughts are interrupted when I notice Claire’s car parked in the driveway. He left me those messages hours ago. I didn’t bother checking my phone while I was hanging out with my niece.

He probably called Claire.

I step onto the porch, eyeing the inside of the house through the door glass, ready to knock when the light illuminates them having sex, her naked body covering his on the couch, her moans of pleasure drawing out the cries of the screaming lady inside my head, ready to punch them.

So, she really can turn him on.

I’m not mad at him for sleeping with her.

I’m mad at him for never having done so with me after the accident.

I’m mad at him for not trying back when we were together.

My instincts take over, and I knock on the door, impulsively, not caring if I pause their moment. A few minutes later, Claire comes to the door with a robe wrapped around her.

“Gemma,” she says, sounding surprised. She looks behind her and shuts the door, leading us onto the patio.

“What are you doing?” I chuckle. “Is he okay? I need to talk to him.”

She shakes her head. “You promised you’d give him time. And let him be happy.”

“He sounded drunk when he texted me. I was worried. I came to check on him.”

“I can assure you he’s fine.” She pats my shoulder.

A red-hot energy overtakes me, and the urge to break her fingers is so overpowering I don’t even trust the anger residing inside of me. “Let me see him.”

“Gemma—”

“Move.” I push the door behind her and see Harvey sitting on the couch like I’ve seen him a million times. He looks better than he did when we lived together. He’s finally got some color to his cheeks, though a good round of sex can do that.

“Harv, hey. Are you okay?” I walk slowly toward the couch. “You sounded off when you texted me.”

“He had a few beers. It’s okay for him to live a little too.”

She’s not being mean or condescending at all when she says this, but it doesn’t stop me from being so. “Yeah, but he’s going through a lot right now.”

“I know. That’s why I ...”

“Leave,” I whisper, sounding like poison. She really needs to go so I can talk to Harvey.

“I have every right to be here.” She crosses her arms over her chest, her face red now.

I should feel bad. She’s been nothing but nice to me ever since I met her. Except for the part where she fell in love with my boyfriend.

I turn to him. “Harv, tell her to leave .”

He looks at her and gives her a small nod, coupled with an apology I doubt she’ll accept tonight.

As soon as she retreats to his bedroom, I step closer to him, throwing myself to my knees, holding on to his hand, my eyes focusing on his tattoo.

You can’t let yourself die like your phoenix, Harvey. You must rise above the pain.

“Harvey.” I shake my head. “Promise me you won’t hurt yourself.” My words are drenched in desperation, worry, and fear.

This isn’t the happy, carefree Gemma that I get to be with Damon. This is the one with a massive weight on her shoulders. One that’s not easily shaken off.

The paranoia that any day could be the tipping point for him.

“I’m just tipsy. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He chuckles, squeezing my hand. He smells good. He’s finally wearing cologne.

“Promise me.”

“I won’t kill myself.” He rolls his eyes. “If I wanted to, I would’ve done so a long time ago.”

I nod, biting my lip. “I hate that you could so easily give her what you couldn’t give me.”

He pats my hair, and I know it must look crazy to an outsider. “I hate myself for it too. But it wouldn’t have mattered. As long as you would’ve met him and I her, it wouldn’t have changed anything in the long run.”

The foreign feeling lodges back in my throat.

I shouldn’t fault you for leading me down the worst and best path of my life.

“How are you, really ?”

“I have good and bad days.”

I press his hand over my heart. “One phone call and I’m here. Okay?”

A blurriness fills his eyes. “I’m trying hard, Gemma. It’s not easy without you. You brought something with your silence. You comforted me.”

I stand, leaning forward to kiss his cheek before pulling back and walking toward the door.

“Be happy, Harv. Be the happiest happy person you can be because that’ll make me happy.”

He nods as Claire walks out of his room, ready to console the man I’ve spent the last few years supporting.

Then I walk to my dad’s car, Harvey’s moment taking a front-row seat to my entire day. Damon’s call appears through Bluetooth, and I answer.

“Baby,” he says.

I clear my throat, reversing out of the driveway.

“Gemma?”

“Hmm.” I’m holding everything in, and it’s ready to come down and crash around my feet, shattering my heart in the process.

“Where are you?” The silence after is deadly. He knows. He’s asking a question he already knows the answer to.

“I’m heading home.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I swallow. “I just need a minute. I need a minute to process.”

“So do I.” He hangs up.

Dammit.

I hope we won’t fight tonight.

I don’t think I’ve ever trembled as much as I did on my way to Harvey’s house. Thinking he hurt himself. Thinking I might’ve caused that. Thinking of losing him forever.

Damon beats me to my dad’s place, which means he was already on his way over before we spoke on the phone. He came for me after I texted him that I missed him, and now he knows I went back to my ex’s place.

I keep messing up. I keep doing things I shouldn’t do, hurting the people that I love. Why can’t I ever get it right?

Why is life so complicated?

I’m tired of fighting, of pushing, of the arguments. I just want Damon and me to be good. And for Harvey to be happy. That’s all.

To make it worse, Damon looks dashing, leaning on his car with his tie loosened and his body wrapped in a black tuxedo. He gestures for Joey to leave, walking to my driveway with a bag in hand.

We don’t say a word.

I unlock the door, and we step inside, where he drops his bag with a loud thud.

“You still love him.” A statement, nothing more, nothing less. Maybe he needs the reassurance too. Maybe Damon will keep asking until he realizes I no longer love Harvey.

Not in a way that sustains a good relationship.

“I do. I did. But then I met you.” I remove my sneakers, ready to head upstairs and hide my purse with the diary inside.

“What did he do?”

“Nothing I don’t deserve.”

“I swear to God, Gemma, stop talking about yourself like that. Now tell me why you ran to him?”

I feel him fuming behind me when we finally reach my room, where I tuck my purse in the wardrobe, hoping he doesn’t find it weird.

He seems too focused on our argument to notice.

“You know what pisses me off?” He drapes his tuxedo jacket over my bed, unbuttoning his white dress shirt. “You ask me to give her up when you can’t even give him up.”

I pull the sweater over my head and remove my leggings, staying in underwear and finding a long, white Harry Potter tee to wear.

This is why we always end up messing around instead of talking. He’s too beautiful for his own good. He’s a few feet away, his jaw locked tight, his eyes ready for war, his hands removing his shirt, leaving him shirtless and hard in black slacks.

“He texted me, sounding drunk and really off. I went to make sure he was okay.”

“And. Was. He?” Annoyance radiates off his tongue, like it’s killing part of himself to ask this question.

I nod. “He was fucking Claire, so I’d say he was.”

His eyes widen, and he walks to me, tilting my chin up when he reaches me. “I never thought I’d say this, considering, but he’s pure heroin for you, Gemma. He’ll destroy you.”

I shake my head. “Nothing could destroy me more than you.”

His hands clasp around my neck, and he stares me dead in the eyes. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything my entire life.” Sincerity pours out of my every word, because I mean every vowel and every vow that I make to this man. “I couldn’t bear it, though, if he killed himself because of me.”

One of his hands squeezes my neck, his nod letting me know that he understands, that he’s here for me. Our foreheads lean forward, touching, while we bask in this silence.

“I hate not having control over this,” he says when we part, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “But you’re worth the risk. You’re worth the risk.” He repeats it more so to himself.

He changes into sweatpants, and we end up making nachos in the kitchen, both starving. Damon wraps his arms around me, and the warmth from his bare chest radiates all over me. I can’t get the picture of him in a tux, leaning against his car, out of my mind.

The angry look he sported made him look even hotter.

“You saw them fucking?” He turns me to face him, and I nod. “And ...”

I shrug. “I was angry. Because he could get it up with her, you know?” I admire the man in front of me, his dark eyes pouring sympathy into mine, and I can’t help but wonder if he knew his ex was a cheater just like me.

“I have a question for you. You said that you wanted to marry Palmer, but—”

“That wasn’t a very subtle change of conversation, Red.”

“I was wondering if, before her, you wanted marriage and kids?”

His thumb scratches his temple, a pensive look in his eyes. Then the oven timer goes off, giving him something to do as he takes out the pan of food.

Palmer died when Damon was around twenty-six, since it’ll be three years soon. And they were together for four years, according to her diary. A part of me wants to know who he was before her as well—how her death shaped and changed him completely.

I sit on the counter, watching him place the guacamole and salsa on the side, waiting for him to answer me.

His stare tells me all I need to know. He wants a break from this line of questioning. But he needs to feed me bread crumbs until I’m satisfied.

“I wasn’t looking for a relationship in college. It was all just meaningless sex.”

“So with Palmer you wanted those things?”

“It doesn’t even matter.”

“It does matter. She’s the ghost between us, so it does matter.”

He pulls on my hand, sliding me off the counter. “I told you already, I was about to ask her to marry me before she died.” A flicker of pain appears on his face, and is gone the next second. “Now can we eat, so I can have dessert?” He cups my sex over my Calvin thong.

I wonder if that’s why he was distant according to Palmer? Because he was about to propose?

“Okay, I’m done with my questions—for now.” I slip two fingers inside the waistband of his black sweatpants.

“Gemma, my past is irrelevant. I want to be with you, not just fuck you.”

I’m so tempted to ask him about future kids, but I hold my tongue begrudgingly, determined to stop pestering him tonight. Damon sits on the island stool with me on his lap. One of his hands is wrapped around my waist while the other sporadically feeds me.

We end up on the couch afterward, a thriller movie in the background.

“Did you find a place yet?” he asks, as we lay down missionary style on the couch.

“Umm, no. I haven’t had time to check.”

He pushes my hair behind my ear. “Stay with me.”

My entire body goes rigid. “What? What do you mean?”

He swipes his thumb across my bottom lip before kissing my mouth. “Come live with me.”

“Damon, that’s ridiculous .” I clear my throat in complete disbelief. “We just started dating.”

“Do I have to call you my girlfriend for you to feel secure in our relationship?”

I’m swooning. Having him confirm we’re in a relationship warms my heart.

I love the fact that he wants me to move in. My brain thinks I’m an absolute idiot for considering it, but by God do I consider it.

“We can’t.”

“And why not?” He’s distracting me with his kisses. Kisses on my lips, my chin, under my jawline, on my throat.

“Because my pregnant sister will kill me,” I joke, but I mean it. She’ll kill me because it’s foolish to move in with someone you’ve known for only a few months, someone you just started officially dating. Especially when there was someone else in the picture.

“What do you want?”

“You’re also my boss, and I need to figure myself out.”

“We won’t tell people at work unless they ask. And don’t feed me that line. You can figure out who you are while we live together.”

I shake my head.

This whole conversation is borderline erratic and much too soon.

“Live with me, Gemma, so I can show you how I feel for you every day.”

I swallow, his words deeply impacting me because I want this with him so badly. I wish it were easy to say yes.

He brings his face closer to mine, his warm minty breath tingling against my mouth, taking forever for his lips to reach mine.

“Damon.”

“Move in with me.” His raspy voice fills the room before he finally closes the gap between our lips. Kissing Damon feels like every tiny hair and particle on my body is coming alive at the simplest touch coming from his hands and mouth.

“I will. Just not now .”

“No?” He takes it as a challenge. “What’s the worst that can happen? We’ll fight. We’ll fuck it out of each other.”

I shake my head. “What changed? Since we met, you’ve been warning me off, saying you aren’t a good man and we shouldn’t be together.”

He looks at me, perplexed, blinking. “ I love you . How many fucking ways, Gemma? How many ways do I have to show you this?”

I exhale. Then I wrap my arms around him. Damon changes the movie to a science documentary while stroking my hair.

My heart is still in a frenzy over his proposition. Yet I entertain the idea of living with him. Of waking up next to him every morning, going to work together, finding out all his flaws.

I’m Damon driven, and that’s an understatement.

“Are you thinking about it?” he asks, thumbing my mom’s green-stone earring.

I nod, gulping.

“And?”

“I can’t make a decision tonight, Damon.” I narrow my eyes at him.

He must know this.

“What’s your list? The pros and cons.” He weaves our hands together. A million shocks are sent through my body by the simple act.

“I love you, and I want to be with you.” I hate when he looks away, as if he can’t believe it, as if he’s undeserving of love. “But it’s too soon. Much too soon. I could never even afford to split rent on a home like yours.”

“I have more money than I know what to do with. I barely spend much of it.”

“I want to pay for things too. It can’t just be you, Damon.”

“All right. You can earn your keep by—”

“If you say sucking you off, I might hurt you,” I tease, and he chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. “I need to be independent. It’s too soon.”

“Whether you have your own place or not, we’ll be spending most of our time together anyway.”

I shake my head. “You’re missing the point.”

“The point is that I love you, and that’s not going to change whether we move in together now or in a few months.”