Page 59 of Damascus & The Wildfire
In between laughing at the antics of our favorite characters, she grilled me about the apparent chemistry between me and Hatchet. And, despite my insistence that nothing was going on, she pressed on persistently.
Two bottles of wine and three movies later, Eva and Hawk crashed in my spare bedroom. They left before breakfast when Reaper honked on the horn at sunrise, picking them up. After a sleepy goodbye, Brisket and I curled back in bed, choosing to snooze for another few hours.
I stretched beneath the quilt, and Brisket groaned beside me, his long legs in the air as he insisted on belly rubs. My phone pinged, forcing me to fully open my eyes and acknowledge the morning.
Hatchet:
You missed a good time last night. Want to grab brunch? I can tell you all about how Archer got so drunk that he danced on the bar.
Me:
Please tell me you got video. Diner in an hour?
Hatchet:
See you then.
I walked Brisket before I showered, patiently allowing him to sniff the trail for chipmunks and Goldfish crackers dropped by toddlers. When we got back home, I barely had enough time to shower. I quickly dried my hair and swiped on mascara before slipping into a green and white polka dot sundress and lacing up my chunky black boots.
As I walked into the diner, the scent of bacon and coffee wrapped around me. Hatchet was already there, standing to greet me with a grin. He pulled me into a hug, his arms warm and strong.
“You look beautiful this morning.”
I smiled up at him, letting myself enjoy the way his attention made me feel desired. Hatchet always made it clear he was attracted to me. He flirted easily, laughed often, and had that effortless charm that made it impossible not to like him. Maybe Eva was right. Even if he wasn’t looking to settle down, Hatchet was the kind of man I could ease back into a relationship with. Maybe not forever, but at least for now. I could open myself up to something with him—something fun and light. Something that didn’t demand more than I could give.
“Show me this video,” I insisted as I slid into the booth beside him instead of across.
Hatchet pulled out his phone and played the video of a drunken Archer dancing on the bar like he was auditioning forCoyote Ugly. I laughed so hard that tears formed in the corners of my eyes.
Hatchet slipped his phone back into his pocket, and I started toslide away to move across from him, but he wrapped an arm around my hip to stop me.
“Stay,” he whispered into my ear, his whiskers tickling my neck.
Goose bumps spread across my skin, and I leaned into him, noticing the envious look on the waitress’s face as she took our order. We swapped stories, teased each other, and I laughed until my cheeks hurt. He made everything feel uncomplicated.
After we finished eating, Hatchet paid the bill and walked me to my Range Rover. His hand rested on my lower back, and the touch sent a flutter through my stomach.
“Thanks for brunch,” I said, squinting in the sun as I gazed up at him.
Hatchet tipped my chin up with his thumb, his eyes searching mine. “It’s always a pleasure.” He paused and then leaned in, pressing his lips to mine.
I waited for the rush of feelings I’d expected. But as our lips met, I felt … nothing. No spark, no racing heart, no longing.
All the underlying chemistry and attraction I’d thought I could feel for him fizzled away. I pulled back and looked up at him with furrowed brows, curious if he noticed how off it felt. But he only smiled. How could he not see that there was no fire in it? How could he not look at me with the same shock?
“Um, I need to go,” I said suddenly. I needed space. Before Hatchet could respond, I jumped into my Range Rover and sped away. In the rearview mirror, I watched him stand in the dust, his expression mired in confusion.
As I drove, my mind raced. Was I broken? Maybe losing Alec had shattered a part of me irreparably. Maybe I couldn’t love like that anymore.
Alec and I had been together since we were fifteen—high school, college, adulthood. I’d always believed he was my soulmate. Maybe every kiss, every moment would pale in comparison to what we had.
What about Merrick?The thought startled me. I’d pushed away any feelings that bubbled up in his presence because he’d neverflirted like Hatchet. He was quiet, guarded, and respectful. He’d been there when I needed him, but he’d never crossed the line.
But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense that Merrick wouldn’t show up that way. Like me, he’d experienced loss and grief in a way that changed a person.
Maybe that was why I felt so drawn to him—because he understood the shadows inside me, the parts that still ached and longed for the ghost of my past.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter. Maybe I wasn’t broken. Maybe I just needed more than charm and laughter. Maybe I needed someone who could see me—scars and all—and still choose to stay.
