Page 245 of Ruin My Life
Colder than I thought a person could feel.
Is this what dying feels like?
When I was shot, my body spared me—darkness swallowed it whole. But not this time. Now there’s no mercy. Just the slow slide under.
Maybe my body knows that if I fall asleep now… I won’t wake up again.
How many times can someone cheat death before it catches up?
When does survival stop being luck and start becoming legend?
When do you go from human to myth?
My mind is racing—thoughts coming too fast, too loud, too much—while my body drags behind, molasses slow. My head heavy. My mind distant.
Faces flash through my mind like broken film reels.
Mom. Dad. Amie.
Then Damon. Rebecka. Monroe. Chavez. Lee.
Hope.
Even Connor.EspeciallyConnor.
Not because he deserves to be remembered—but because he forced himself into my story. Into my pain. Tried to write the ending for me.
But this isn’t his ending to write.
More memories rise—the vivid, the painful, the cherished.
The backroom of The Speakeasy, where Damon first looked at me like I was a threat and something holy all at once. The hotel when he showed up to save me from that brute, then watched me save myself.
His condo. His bedroom. His secret place here on the island—his safe space that he let me share.
It all happened so fast. Too fast.
I want more time.
I want to go back andchoosehim sooner. To be with him longer. To say the words I’ve never been brave enough to say.
My lips part.
“Damon…”
The sound is hoarse. A whisper wrapped in broken glass.
He glances at me instantly, reaches over, squeezes my thigh. His hand is strong and warm through the blood-soaked denim.
“I’m here,mi amor.”
My love.
He called me that this morning. I didn’t realize he meant it like this—like it might be the last time he’d ever get to say it.
Maybe it was—is.
My heart flutters painfully.
