“You can call me Sheila,” her mother said, and moved out of the way.
“Nice to meet you, Sheila. I’m Damien.” He extended his hand toward her. Sheila took it after a moment and gave it a little shake.
“We’ll be back in about fifteen minutes, okay?” Rose ushered Sheila down the hall.
Damien pushed the door open and stepped into the single-room apartment. The room was about eight feet across, and twelve feet long at its longest point. Altogether, it was smaller than his bathroom, but there was a couch against the right wall, bookshelves on either side, and a small TV sitting on a milk crate in the middle of the floor, casting hazy light. Sitting swaddled in a blanket on the small sofa, her head resting on the cushions, blinking her wide eyes at him, was Poppy.
“It’s okay, it’s just me,” he said.
“Damien?” Poppy sat up. Her voice cracked.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
He took two steps and went to his knee beside the couch as Poppy dove into his arms, clutching him. All the tension he’d been carrying drained from his body, replaced by relief and joy. He buried his face in her hair. The short strands tickled his face.
“Oh my God, I tried to call you but I didn’t know your number.” Her voice was brittle and high-pitched. “I don’t know where my cell phone is. I wanted to call you.”
“It’s okay, I’m here now.” He rubbed her back and for the first time since this whole nightmare started he took an easy breath.
“I tried to get away,” she whispered for his ears only. “I tried.”
“I know, baby. You did get away. You clocked him good, too.” He’d never forget the sight either. He’d seen Emilio reaching, then bam, she hit him in the side of the head so hard he staggered.
“No, I tried to get away before that, but I couldn’t. He was there.”
Her tears burned his skin. He would take this burden from her if he could. If he could have been the one Emilio had taken instead of her, he’d have done anything to save her the pain and torment she’d endured.
“I want to go home, but Mom wants me here,” she whispered.
“I know. Rose told me.”
“She did?” There was a watery quality to her voice that broke his heart.
“Yeah, she called me and told me to come over, so I did. Without her I’m pretty sure the desk worker would have called the cops on me. Scary black man, trying to break and enter.”
Poppy chuckled despite the tears she shed. She sat up and wiped her cheeks. He took the opportunity to sit on the couch next to her.
“I’m a mess,” Poppy muttered.
Her black eye wasn’t as swollen as he remembered, but the shiner would be a colorful reminder of her ordeal for a while, along with several scratches on her cheeks. They looked a lot like knife wounds.
Damien was almost sorry SWAT had killed Emilio, because it meant he couldn’t do the deed himself. The sight of Poppy wearing a soft neck brace and bandages on her forearms was something he wished he could have gone his whole life without seeing.
She patted her hair, which stood out and up in places. The hack-job haircut left most of her hair near chin length, but some was even shorter.
He took her hand and patted his lap, not wanting her to move any faster than she was capable of. She came willingly, settling against him with a soft sigh. Her eyes closed and she inhaled deeply.
“Rose said you haven’t eaten.”
“Are they gone?” Poppy asked.
“Yeah. I’m supposed to convince you to eat something.”
“Oh, thank God. Mom just keeps hovering and driving me batty. Can you turn that lamp on? She keeps turning it off.”
“Sure thing.”
There was a lamp mounted to the wall with a little chain pull. One tug and the bulb shed warm light into the apartment.
“Thanks.” She rested her cheek against his chest and sighed.
Damien wanted to say so many things. I’m sorry, for starters. He couldn’t get his mouth to work. He didn’t want to break this precious moment. Hell, he almost wanted to cry.
“I think I’m going crazy,” Poppy said quietly.
“Why’s that?” He passed his fingers through the short hairs at her crown, the ones that refused to lie flat.
“I had entire conversations with you, in my head, while he had me locked up.”
He stared at the wall, guilt, shame, and disgust rolling in his gut. This was all his fault. “What was I saying?”
“Well this one time, I was taped to a chair and I tried so hard to get out. I wanted to give up but you kept telling me to keep going.”
He took a deep breath and put his own feelings aside. She needed him, and he’d damn well be there for her now. “Then what happened?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay. What about food? Do you think you could eat?”
Poppy didn’t reply for a moment. “The medicine will make me drowsy.”
“You probably need to sleep.” He could feel her shaking. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t sleep.” She tilted her head back as far as she could with the brace on. Her gaze was haunted, no doubt by ghosts of Emilio.
“What if I promise to sit here with you? I could protect you.” He hadn’t been able to last time, though. And how could he protect her from something in her head?
“I could try,” she finally said.
He ached to think of her in pain. There wasn’t anything he could say or do to ease her burden, and it made him feel wretched. He smoothed her hair down and kissed her brow. With the shorter hair, she looked even more like a pixie.
Someone tapped on the door. Poppy tensed immediately.
“Who is it?” Damien called out.
“It’s Rose and Mom.”
Poppy didn’t quite relax as Sheila stepped into the room. Rose leaned in behind her.
“The baby’s almost asleep. I’m going back to bed. See you in the morning.”
Sheila produced a tray table and set it up in front of Poppy. She placed a bowl of steaming soup on it and peered at her daughter. “Going to try to eat yet?”
Poppy pressed against his chest, recoiling a bit as her mother also produced a dose of painkillers.
“Come on. Try a little of it.” Damien took the bowl in one hand and offered her the spoon with the other.
Poppy took the spoon and dipped it into the broth. She sipped a little, but it was a halfhearted attempt. Still, it was something.
Sheila finally sat on his other side and appeared to get lost in watching whatever was playing on the TV.
Poppy slowly made her way through the whole bowl of soup, but didn’t make a move to touch the pills sitting on the napkin. He wasn’t about to force those on her. He’d been shot before, and like her, he’d gritted his teeth through the pain, because the memories of the blast looped in his dreams for weeks.
Sheila eventually nodded off, snoring softly over the drone of the TV.
What if this experience changed her? What if she woke up tomorrow and blamed him? She’d be within her rights. But it would destroy him to have to let her walk away.
Poppy’s body finally relaxed, slowly giving in to exhaustion. He didn’t know what hell she was living through, but he wanted so badly to lift her burdens. It was torture to watch someone he loved suffer.
Poppy bent and offered her humblest apologies to the two cats in the form of scratching and petting the moment she stepped in her door.
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry,” she muttered to the cats twining around her.
Yoshi rubbed her thigh with his head, while Mario placed his front paws on her knee and stretched toward her, sniffing.
“I look totally different, don’t I?” Her head felt different, cooler, lighter, even, without all her hair.
Damien closed the door behind her. “It’ll grow back.”
He’d been kind enough to get her into a salon before it opened to tidy up her hair. Somehow he’d real
ized how badly her hacked-off locks bothered her.
Her hair would grow. The cuts would heal. But would she?
She finally felt a little like herself again. Before Damien had come to her rescue last night, she would drift off only to jerk awake, certain reality was a dream, and that she was still in that closet. Time healed all wounds, but could it give her back the pieces of herself she’d lost? Or was she just a bit broken?
Mario pawed her chin and meowed, no doubt suspicious she was giving Yoshi more love.
Damien moved past her, carrying his bag, the few purchases they’d made that morning, and a small plastic sack of her things that had been recovered and released. He’d insisted on a new cell phone, so she’d given in and allowed him to pick one out for her. He even had to buy it, since her accounts were still frozen, and her wallet was in evidence. Her whole life was in an uproar, but here, in her home, it didn’t seem so bad.
She checked on the cats’ food and water. Both seemed to have been refilled recently, so either Kyle or Nikki must have been by that morning. There was nothing that needed doing. She’d finished scrubbing the apartment from floor to ceiling before she’d gone to Damien’s, and that felt like an age ago.
Poppy was at a loss for what to do next. The principal had assured her she could take off the next few weeks. School would be out and she could just come back for the summer in-service. It wouldn’t do to upset the kids with her stitches or black eye. She appreciated the thought. Honestly, being made a spectacle would make it all worse. She wanted to go back to normal.
There were still dishes in the sink, so she opened the dishwasher and began to empty it. Damien’s presence was a pillar of warmth and comfort behind her. He filled a room with it.
You don’t have to do that.
Poppy paused.
Was that Damien in her head? Or had he said that?
“I can do that.” Damien’s hand rested against the small of her back.
Poppy leaned her hip against the counter and tucked her new short-do behind her ear.
She stared at her hands. “I can’t tell if you’re in my head talking, or really talking.”
“What do I say when I’m in your head?” he asked.
She shrugged and turned to face him, though she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. “It sounds like what you would say, which just makes it more confusing.”
“If I help you being here or being in your head, what does it matter?” He rubbed her arms and ducked his head to peer at her eyes.
“It matters.” She focused so hard on his shirt that she could pick out the weave of threads in the fabric. “You know what the worst part was?”
He lifted one of her hands to his lips. He brushed a kiss over her knuckles and wrapped his hands around it.
“I almost got away from him once. You were in my head, you were telling me to not give up, keep going. I was taped to this chair, but I got loose. I didn’t want to take the time to get the tape off my face, so I ran out of the closet.” She bit her lip at the memory of the shadows solidifying into a person. The house had smelled of lemon cleanser. Had she noticed that when she was there? “I made it through the kitchen, into the living room before he grabbed me. I think he’d been listening and waiting for me to get loose, just to fuck with my head.”
Tears burned her cheeks. She wiped them away with her free hand.
“You got out. You slammed him so hard they think you gave him a concussion.” Damien tried to pull her close, to hug her, but she pushed him away.
“But he made me a victim. He’s dead, but I still have to live with this. I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want to feel like I’m broken. I want to be me.” Her voice steadily rose until she was yelling.
“I know that. Sweetness—”
Sweetness.
That voice, it wasn’t Damien’s.
“Don’t say that anymore.” Poppy shuddered and held up her hand.
“What’s wrong?”
“He called me that.”
“Okay, I won’t. But Poppy, listen to me for just a moment? Me.” He cupped her face and swiped her tears away with his thumbs. “You’re going to get through this, and I will be with you every step of the way.”
Poppy tried to pull out of his grasp, shaking her head. “I don’t want that.”
He didn’t let her go, though his hold was gentle. “Poppy, you’re my priority. Even if you didn’t need me to be here to comfort you, I’d still want to spend time with you. Not because I feel obligated. It’s my fucking fault you got involved in the first place. The guilt is eating me up inside, but it’s worse than if it had been anyone else. Because it’s you. And … I love you.”
Damien kept talking. He said words like torment and fear, guilt and anguish, but all she heard was love.
I love you.
“Did you really say that?” she blurted out over him.
“What?”
“Did you really just say that … that you love me.”
He pursed his lips for a moment. “I didn’t mean to tell you like this, but, yeah. It’s too soon, and this was not the right moment—”
“I think I love you, too. I mean, I’m pretty sure. I might be half-assed crazy now, but I’m pretty sure I started loving you when you bought me that book. I knew you were dangerous to me, but I couldn’t help myself.” She swiped at her face, tears running down her cheeks. “This is the part in a movie where the princess kisses her prince and they live happily ever after. I also can’t vouch for my sanity right now, either, but … I thought I knew before, so I’m pretty sure now. I love you.”
She touched Damien’s cheeks as he pulled her against his chest. They were wet, and yet he smiled. She wanted to get better, fit the broken pieces of herself back together, so she could give him something to love. Saying the words out loud only solidified the bone-deep sentiment into reality. Damien kissed her, gentle as ever. She wasn’t getting an ending, no ride into the sunset, because there was too much left to live and discover.
This was her broken, yet happy, and slightly crazy life.
Epilogue
Two months later …
Poppy stared down the aisle, her gaze locked with Damien’s. Her heart fluttered and nerves danced up and down her spine. She hated that she couldn’t take in the beautiful decorations, the flowers, or even the gathered crowd.
She only had eyes for Damien, waiting for her at the foot of a St. Andrew’s cross, draped in garlands and gauze. Her grin grew as she approached the dais.
This was really happening.
An invisible thread tied her to Damien. It felt as if he were reeling her in with his gaze, drawing her closer while still telling her not to run. Joy threatened to shatter her into pieces. She could barely contain herself.
It was happening.
Right now.
They’d struggled through the darkest moments of her recovery. Together. He’d gone to every psychiatrist appointment, therapy session, and doctor’s visit. Because he loved her. Because if she fell apart, he knew how to put her pieces back together again. He’d held her while she healed and, when she was ready, urged her to stand on her own two feet.
She’d been the one to suggest moving in with each other, not him. Eventually she’d have to learn to drive, but there was the summer for that.
For today, there was just them.
This moment.
Now.
Damien offered her his hand as she reached the platform that sat in the middle of House Surrender’s main dungeon. The crowd was hushed, and for a moment, with the lights shining down on her, she could almost believe they were the only two in the cavernous room.
“Hello, princess,” Damien whispered, for her ears alone.
She’d ordered a special corset and skirt just for this occasion, all in blue, his favorite color, and had kept them from him, which was hard to do since she’d pretty much moved in with him. With the panels made from sheer material and the skirt little more than transparent silk, i
t was her sexiest costume to date. And it was all for him.
Damien led her to the middle of the dais where a white velvet pillow waited.
“Kneel.” Damien’s voice boomed out across the dungeon, startling gooseflesh down her arms. She’d chosen to go without gloves. The scars on her forearms were still pink, but they were also a badge of honor. A symbol of all that they had been through together. To cover them up would be a disservice to him.
Poppy went to her knees, but kept one hand behind her back. A girl had to have some secrets, and since they’d chosen to wing the ceremony, she’d keep her surprise as long as she could.
“Four months ago I met you here,” Damien began. He kept one of her hands in his, fingers curled tightly around hers. “I knew the moment I saw you that there was something different, and I had to play with you.”
“Sir.” Her lips still curled around the word, but it came more and more readily each time she said it. “Four months ago, I was a girl looking for adventure. I wanted a new experience. I didn’t know what exactly I wanted, but when I saw you, I knew I needed to play with you.”
“Three months ago, I couldn’t go a day without wanting to talk to you. Be with you. Play with you. You got under my skin.”
She breathed deep and struggled to recall the words she’d rehearsed. “Three months ago, I fell hard for a man who brought out a side of me I never knew existed.”
He squeezed her hand a hair tighter. She could see him struggling to keep from grinning too much. This was supposed to be a serious occasion, after all. But she’d never been good at serious, and their lives had become so full of laughter and joy, excluding that now felt wrong.
“Two months ago I knew you were the kind of woman a man can only love once in his life. I almost had that ripped away from me.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. Chances were the people watching had no idea what they’d gone through. She’d never once appeared on the news and Damien wasn’t fond of cameras, but they knew.
“Two months ago I knew you were a man who would change me. I was scared of loving you.” She wouldn’t say it, not here, but it was Damien and his strength that got her out of Emilio’s hands. His voice, urging her on. She hadn’t heard his imagined voice in weeks, but she had the real thing all the time.
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