*Isabella's POV*
I woke up alone in bed, the space beside me cold and empty. The faint scent of his cologne still lingered on the pillows, a ghost of his presence. "Damien?" I called out, my voice hoarse with sleep. No reply. A sliver of panic, cold and sharp, pierced through my post-sleep haze. "Damien?" I called again, slightly louder, my heart starting to do this stupid little flutter thing.
The bathroom door swung open, and there he was. My breath hitched in my throat. He was standing there, with nothing but a fluffy white towel slung low around his waist, droplets of water glistening on his chest and tracing paths through the dark hair that disappeared under the towel. Fuck me.
"I was in the shower," he said, his voice a low, morning rumble.
"Thank God," I breathed, a wave of relief washing over me. "I thought..." I trailed off, not sure how to voice the irrational fear that had gripped me for a second.
"What were you thinking?" he asked, his eyes soft as he looked at me.
I just yawned, before I could stop myself. "You're still tired," he said, his tone telling rather than asking.
"Stay there, I got you," he said, crossing the room in a few easy strides. He climbed back into bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and pulled me against him, his warm, bare skin a comforting weight against my back. "Now tell me baby, what's wrong," he murmured into my hair.
"I don't know," I sighed, snuggling deeper into his embrace. "Just this whole situation has my head spinning all over the place." The questions started tumbling out, a frantic, verbal purge of all the shit that had been stewing in my brain. "Do you think Jacob was targeted? What could he possibly have done? Last night you said something about him taking drugs. Did he really? What else don't I know about him? And about you? Oh, fuck, I think I'm gonna be sick."
"Isabella, baby, breathe," he said, his voice calm and steady, a hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.
"You know something, tell me," I pleaded, twisting in his arms to look at him.
He let out a long sigh. "I found out who shot him while you were asleep," he said, his voice quiet. "Apparently, a kid overdosed and died in his club a month ago. His father couldn't wait for the justice system to take its course, so he decided he would get his own justice."
"Damien!" I gasped, my eyes wide. "That's messed up. So fucking intense."
"I know," he said, his gaze distant. "I mean... I can understand the father."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, a little confused.
"Well, he's a grieving parent. We all cope with loss in different ways."
"How did you..." I started, then stopped, suddenly nervous. "How did you cope with the loss of your mother?" I asked.
I saw a whole fucking storm of emotions fly over his face – grief, anger, pain – before he quickly masked it, his expression becoming unreadable again. "I was... fine," he said, his voice flat. "I was busy with my studies."
"Same here," I replied softly.
"What do you mean?" he asked, prodding gently.
"When my mother died, I barely had time to bury her and then I traveled across the country. I was about to start at NC State University. I didn't even have time to process what happened," I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
"I guess it's better for us, being workaholics and all," I said, trying to force a smile, a desperate attempt to lighten the mood.
"Is it though?" he asked, and I felt my heart ache slightly at the raw vulnerability in his question.
"So you never went to visit her?" he asked.
"I haven't," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.
"I do that sometimes," he said. "It helps."
"How was it for Jacob, when your mother died? I mean," I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
"With Jacob, it was a totally different thing," he said, a heavy sigh escaping him. "He ran away from home and dropped out of high school. He got all those tattoos, he did drugs, and got into some problematic escorts."
"Oh," I said, my mind reeling. "But he told me he double majored."
"He did," Damien confirmed. "I found him. Brought him home and made him take classes again."
"Damien... I... I..." I stuttered, my heart swelling with a fucking tidal wave of emotion. I had three words on the tip of my tongue, but they were more than just a figure of speech. I wanted to say 'I love you for being so amazing, for saving Jacob, for doing all these thoughtful things for the people around you.' But I didn't feel I meant the actual 'I love you'. Not yet. It wasn't the right time. I'm happy I stopped myself in time. "You're amazing," I said instead, my voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for saving Jacob. I could only imagine how hard it was."
"Having a twin is both a blessing and a curse," he said, his voice low. "Especially with a twin like Jacob. He's intense."
"I bet he is," I teased, trying to lighten the mood. "And the way you feel each other... it's mind-blowing. You fucking scared me yesterday," I said, making him chuckle.
"It's all good now," he said, his arms tightening around me.
"Now will you put some clothes on," I said, a playful smirk on my face, "or will you continue to distract me?"
"Damien, what the fuck," I said, trying to sound mad but I new damn well I was failing. "We were having a serious conversation just now and your mind just wonders to that?"
"I can't help it when I love everything about my girlfriend," he said, his voice dropping to that low, seductive register that always did things to me. And then he pulled me into a kiss. Did he just say?