Page 100 of Filthy and the Beast

His words sit in the air, and fuck, is that ever an easy request to grant.

“Okay, I won’t.” Relief washes over me. I’m returning to myself.

Emotionally exhausted, I hold his gaze. My chest aches, and my face is warm.

Want to kiss him. Tell him I love him again.

He hasn’t said it back.

“I do want to be your partner,” I add.

Damian smiles. “I’m glad.”

I want him to say the words, need to hear them. Maybe he’s not ready. Or maybe he doesn’t love me. Either way, not hearing any response is driving me out of my mind.

He swallows. “I need more from you, though. You can’t just grunt and make some promises.”

“That makes sense.” I squeeze his hand back, rubbing my thumb across his knuckles.

There’s no reason to hide anything from Damian. I’ve spent months trying to open my life to him, but before he showed up, I held everything in for so long. Some of it is buried so deep.

Giving me time to think, Damian meets my eye.

He’s beautiful. Kind. Strong. Patient and forgiving with me.

I’m so damn lucky I found him.

“Come on,” I say. “I think I know what to do.”

* * *

DAMIAN

Enzo doesn’t explain why he’s taking me to a lake. He just mumbles something about “the lake” and drives us out of the city.

We’re quiet in the truck, which is good, because my mind is racing. Enzo said he loves me. Plenty of people in my life have told me so, family and friends, but never like this.

I want to say it back. The words burn inside me. I do love him. I’m surer of that every day. And Enzo means it; I don’t doubt him.

But I still hold back a part of my heart, protecting it, because he’s got his own secrets hidden, too.

His hand lands between the seats, palm up as he drives. I place my palm on top of his and lace our fingers together. It’s as much as I’m willing to risk right now, but his touch centers me in the silence, reminds me this is the same Enzo I’ve been living with for months.

The lake is gorgeous, placid and dark and surrounded by massive evergreens. Mountains rise up in the distance. As the sun sinks toward the horizon, the winter light turns silver. Walking down a dirt path, Enzo finally talks.

“This is where I go on Sundays. First, I train my niece, Nat. She’s a professional boxer, too. One of the best. Then I come here.”

I take his hand again, processing all the new information. “It’s beautiful.”

Nodding, he squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you think so.” We walk in silence another minute before he points toward the lake as a few dark, duck-like birds take off. “Greater Scaup. Winter birds.”

I smile. I’m sure he took me here for something more than sharing his secret birding hobby, but Enzo needs to take his time.

We arrive at a small wooden bench. I zip up my jacket as we sit down, the wind chilly across the water. After a couple minutes, Enzo talks, our hands still clasped.

“When I was young and I found the boxing gym,” he says, talking slowly and carefully, “I thought I’d solved all my problems. I’ve always been too big, an oaf even when I was a kid. But in the boxing ring, I came alive. I felt light. Like my body was made for the sport. When I took Toby under my wing, found my brother, thought I finally had a home.”

I nod. He’s told me some of this, but the strain in his voice, the struggle, makes it clear he's giving me the whole truth.

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