Page 38 of Damian & Jun: Episodes 5-8
“Did she attend?”
No, Damian thought to himself, she broke the last little bit of hope in Linda’s heart.
Richard made a small sound of denial in the back of his throat. “She wrote back, thanking me for the opportunity for closure, but she had made her peace with the past a long time ago. She asked that we let her go. So I did.”
“What about your sister?”
“That’s her story to tell. They don’t speak.”
Damian stirred and opened his eyes. Richard and Jun turned their attention toward him.
He yawned and stretched. “Did you two sleep?”
Richard smiled and shook his head. “We talked. It’s a quarter to eight.”
Damian blinked and rubbed his eyes, sitting up. He looked out the window. It was full morning, if still not quite full-on sun. There were clouds blocking the light.
“I thought it was earlier.”
Richard shook his head. “You stayed up late and then…” He shrugged.
“Then dreams came back.”
“Not quite the same this time.” Richard gave Damian a steady look.
Damian grimaced and looked away, but that only brought him face-to-face with Jun. His boy had a concerned line between his brows.
Damian turned on the couch and opened his arms. Jun crawled into his lap. It parted his robe and left Jun basically naked against him, not that anyone could see. Jun didn’t seem to realize it.
“Sorry you had to see that.”
“No.” Jun pushed Damian back so they could see into each other’s eyes. “Don’t. If you want my mess, then you have to share yours.”
Damian swallowed. When Jun put it that way… “You have enough going on right now.”
Jun raised a dangerous eyebrow, one hand rising as if he was about to deliver a slap. Combined with the bruises, it was almost intimidating.
Richard chuckled, standing. “That’s not how this works, Pup. Collin and I are going to go work out.” He took his leave.
Jun zeroed back in on Damian as soon as Richard was gone.
Damian sighed and wrapped his arms around his wolfling. Jun hugged his back, walking forward on his knees so that he was completely wrapped around Damian.
“My demons are old, baby. I don’t know what you can do about them.”
“I can be there,” Jun growled, gripping Damian with his fingers. “Like I was last night.”
Damian squeezed Jun against him. “You were. You were perfect.”
Jun huffed. “Richard did all the work, and Collin helped me make tea, but I was there.”
“When you held my hand, I knew you were safe.”
“Was that part of the nightmare?”
Damian nodded. He could still see it when he closed his eyes—Matthew’s mangled body on the floor of his childhood home, Collin bleeding out across the kitchen table where Dalia had served half-raw, half-burnt meals, and Jun…
His father had had Jun by the throat, both hands wrapped around his windpipe, choking him to death. And he hadn’t been able to stop it. He had tried everything, but no matter how hard he fought, some terrible force had held him back, a great, tangling darkness that smelled like Pastor Doyle’s cologne.
