Page 55 of Surviving the Merge
“At least we got that out of the way,” Max joked.
“Yeah,” I confirmed, rubbing at the spot behind my neck left cold once he removed his touch.
Jumping into his truck, he parted with, “I’ll be in touch. Oh, and you still owe me a ‘bit,’ or a ‘drink.’” He smiled before pulling off.
In other words, no hard feelings. Nothing had to change or be weird.
Message received.
I stood there long after he’d departed, with my hands on the banister and my head dropped between my shoulder blades. “What now, Justin?” I asked myself. Time to make a decision. I couldn’t keep us in limbo this way. I wanted to move forward, but I hadn’t worked out how to forgive.
“Is that your hoe?”
I spun around and nearly toppled down the steps. I caught the wood railing just in time. Damon stood hidden by the shadows on the far left side of the porch.
“What did you say?” I managed to croak out.
“I asked, is that yourhoe?” A touch more menace than the first time. He nodded his chin in the direction of the grassed area I worked on earlier, and I looked over to see the garden tool on the ground.
I leveled him with a keen scowl. That wasn’t the “hoe” he was referring to, but it wouldn’t have benefitted me to argue that point.
“You should be more careful with tools. Someone might get hurt.”
So, Max was a toolanda hoe. “Why are you here, Damon?” So many emotions fought for supremacy: guilt over the witnessed kiss; anger because even though I stood there with Damon, he shared his face with the man that betrayed me. Loneliness that became more acute in that moment because seeing Damon made me realize that, even though only a few feet separated us, we were a million miles apart. Burdened with an intensity of self-loathing for what couldn’t be and a weariness from all that had happened. And, slowly overshadowing all that, was a need all too familiar. I lacked the strength I would need to push him away.I’m weak.
Damon ignored my question. “It took everything in me to watch that to its finality.” His right eye twitched, and he cracked his knuckles. The effort he expended, to stay rooted to the spot and not chase down Max’s truck, was a tangible thing. “Julie would be so proud of me,” he said, straight-faced.
“So, therapy’s working?” It had only been a week since the truth came out. Could progress have been made already?
“He misses you.”
Onlyhe? I wondered but didn’t ask.
“I see you more often than he does,” he said in answer to my unspoken question.
Workingmight’ve been the wrong verb. “Forever the stalker, huh, Damon?”
He took a step forward, and I took one backward, which left me pressed against the porch railing. “Wait, how do you know he misses me?” My heart raced. Were they now communicating with each other?
“I can feel his emotions. He’s given up on trying to keep me out. Blake’s in a bad place.”
“I see. And you’re holding up much better, I take it?” And why did knowing that hurt my feelings? I should have wanted him to be okay. But what I wanted seemed to change from one moment to the next.
“I’m not great at expressing how I feel. You know that. It’s easier for me to convey to you how he feels. Me being here should say it all.”
Being a dancer taught me to predict my partner’s next move. Damon’s intention was to cage me against the porch banister. Before he attempted another stride in my direction, I moved, putting my back to the front door.
“It says that you still don’t respect my need for space.” Very little heat in my words.
To make a point, he stepped in close, placing his palms flat against the door on either side of my head. “No, I don’t suppose I’ve ever been good at giving you that.”
“You’re thinner,” I said, alarmed after feeling his body pressed against mine.
“Blake hasn’t been eating much,” he admitted.
Before my panic set in, Damon cradled my face between his hands, “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”
The gesture so unlike Damon that my fear was then for a completely different reason. “Damon?” I asked hesitantly.
