Page 169 of Ruin My Life
“Those are all I know, little rose. You and me… and a whole lot of bad decisions.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Brie
“OH, YOU’RE GOING TO LOVE THIS ONE!”Rebecka exclaims, flipping eagerly through the thick black photo album in her lap.
When she finds the page she’s looking for, she scoots closer until our shoulders touch and pushes the book across both our knees.
I glance down at the faded photograph. The timestamp in the corner says it’s from twenty-three years ago.
A tiny, chocolate-covered Damon smiles up at the camera, a Van Halen T-shirt hanging off his miniature frame like a dress. An ice cream cone is dripping down his arm, melting faster than he can keep up.
“Adorable,” I say with a grin, glancing toward the kitchen.
Damon is at the counter trying very hard to pretend he doesn’t hear us, slicing carrots and potatoes with meticulous focus.
“I didn’t realize you were such a fan of chocolate, Damon.”
“Still am,” he smirks over his shoulder.
Heat blooms instantly in my cheeks, and I look away, my lips twitching at the corners.
We haven’t talked about the other night—not really.
After that moment on the cliff, he just led me back inside, wished me goodnight, and disappeared down the hall.
I’m not sure how I feel, aside from the way my heart keeps racing whenever he looks at me.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this kind of ease.
Not safety—I’m not sure I’ll ever feel truly safe again—but something quieter. Softer.
Being here with Rebecka, in this house that smells like cinnamon and sea air, it fills something in me that’s been hollow for too long.
She makes me feel like I’m not broken.
I pass Rebecka her album before I stand from the couch. “I’ll be right back,” I say, and she nods, already flipping to another page.
I pad down the hall to my room.
It doesn’t take long to find what I’m looking for in my bag. The photos I’ve carried around—from home to that apartment to Damon’s—all pressed behind a single cheap frame.
The moment I pull them free and feel the glossy paper in my hands, my fight or flight kicks in.
For the last six months, I’ve been choosing one or the other.
Fighting for revenge.
Fleeing from anyone who gets to close.
But what if, just this once... I chose neither?
What if Istayed?
When I return to the living room, Rebecka is giving Damon hell about the thickness of his carrot slices. But the moment she sees me, her face softens.
“Everything okay, sweetie?” she asks, her eyes dropping to the photos in my hands.
