Love Always, Damian (2 page)

Chapter 2

Damian

“Come on, man, and get your ass out of bed. We’re gonna be late.”

Dylan banging on my door rips me from my sleep. Awesome, numb, drunken sleep, where even Kate is absent from my mind.

Fucking bastard.

I roll onto my back and something crunches beneath me. As I shift to dig it out, the empty bottle of Templeton Rye drops off the bed and clinks against the other empty bottle on the floor. My fingers close around the object, and I pull it out.

The small black notebook with a red rose on the cover stares at me. It’s Kate’s diary.

Suddenly, last night is no longer a fuzzy mass of shit I don’t remember. The anniversary of the day I watched her take her last breath is the worst goddamn day of the year. Actually, this whole week is an annual painfest. It’s an unnecessary reminder of her leaving me. That she tore my heart out and took it with her to the grave.

I don’t want it back. It belongs to her.

I scan over her letter to me again—her last entry. Her beautiful, hopeful words promising me I’d be okay. What the hell did she know? She’s gone, and I’m left
here with all the fucking memories she dumped on me.

My last wish, Damian, is that once you’ve read my diary, you’ll put it in a box. Place it in the attic somewhere and leave it there. Let it collect dust.

That’s not all, though. You have a whole life in front of you. Don’t waste it. Don’t dwell on the past. Move forward.

Life isn’t about merely surviving. It’s about living.

Damian, my love, my final wish is for you to let me go.

Love Always, Kate

How the hell am I supposed to forget her? Move on? She has no freaking clue what she did to me.

Fuck!

I’m losing it. Breaking down again now that I’m no longer numb.

She shouldn’t have left me. She should have taken the stupid drug then I could have saved her. My blood. My blood was a match to hers, and I would have given it all to her if she held on a little longer.

My stomach hurts. Hell, my whole body hurts. I can’t breathe as the same thoughts plague me year after year, never letting me forget.

I glance at the empty whiskey bottles on the floor. I’m still the same bastard I was four years ago. The only difference is now I don’t have my brother’s girlfriend to fuck when I need the extra release alcohol can’t give me.

No, Ellie high-tailed it out of my life the morning of Kate’s funeral. One last roll in the sack to deaden my pain, and then she moved to Florida. Something about studying marine biology or some shit like that.

I haven’t heard from her since. Whatever. Easy lays aren’t hard to find here.

“Damian!”
Bang, bang, bang.
“Dude, we gotta go!”

Philosophy final. Shit.

“Yeah, man. Give me a minute,” I yell, throwing on the first t-shirt I see. I grab a pair of jeans off the floor and tuck my phone in the pocket.

“About time,” Dylan says, tossing me a set of keys. “Found ’em.”

I swipe a protein bar out of the cupboard. “Yeah? Where?”

“Right there, on the counter.” He sounds annoyed. Dude’s a perfectionist, and sometimes I think his decision to room with me is his idea of community service. Dylan’s had my back since junior high though, and he’s the only person I consider a friend.

“Thanks,” I say. “So, are we going yet? I don’t want to be late.”

Dylan shakes his head at my irresponsibility and follows me out to my BMW. Philosophy is the one class we share this semester, and parking is a bitch, so we’re riding together. But I have plans after this final, and Dylan isn’t part of them. Hopefully he has another ride home, ’cause I’m not waiting for his slow ass to finish the exam before I leave.

Sure enough, an hour and a half later, I’m done and Dylan is still scribbling out his answers. There’s a good ninety minutes left of class, and my roommate will use each and every one of them before he walks out. No way in hell am I staying that long.

“Hey, I’m leaving, man,” I whisper to him.

“Seriously? You’re finished already?”

“Uh, yeah.”

He’s annoyed because while he’s been pulling all-nighters for a week, I’ve cracked a book for maybe two hours. If I don’t know the shit by now, no amount of poring over the material again is going to do any good. Besides, this week I have other things on my mind.

“Fine. Go,” he says.

“Later.”

I gather my stuff and head up front to the prof. His eyes lift over the rim of his glasses to study me. I’m the first one to hand in my final, and he probably thinks I’ve done a half-assed job.

I didn’t, though. When he checks it, he’ll find every answer as flawlessly correct as usual. I’m a Lowell, and for the last six years I haven’t been living up to that. Until now. Because of the deal I cut with the Good Doctor.

I’ve held onto an almost perfect 4.0 GPA for the last five semesters.

Finally, the prof nods at me and I walk out of class, leaving my junior year of college behind.

~*~

It takes me an hour to get to the cemetery. After Mom and Liam died, I never stepped foot here. Not until Kate convinced me to come. It had been one of her five wishes. One through three I’d done because she was with me. Because I loved her. I promised her number four, so I followed through. Number five, though?

Number five is impossible.

I come here often now—day, night, whenever I need to be close to her. Even in death, Kate draws me in. To this place where she’d only trodden once when she was alive.

I grab the three bouquets of flowers from the passenger seat and swing the door open. When Kate brought me here four years ago, I barely managed to get out of the car. Now it’s easy.

Too fucking easy.

I don’t even think about coming anymore. It’s automatic. Routine, like my nightly shots of whiskey.

It shouldn’t be like this. In three short years I lost the three people I loved most. Death sucks, and I’ve had my fill.

I slam the door closed and tread over the grass. The three identical stones jut up from the ground, and even when I’m here after dark, I don’t have a problem seeing them. They’re etched into my memory.

The idea to have Kate buried here beside my mother and brother was entirely mine and entirely selfish. The Browdys had asked me to help with her funeral arrangements, and other than the time of the graveside service, this had been my only request. This way she’d be close to me.

Shade from the elder tree casts a shadow over them. I stand inside its cover from the sun, facing the cold memorials. These pieces of granite have no real connection with the people they were.

Hell, they didn’t even pick them out. Didn’t see them, yet their names, dates of birth and death are etched into them as if they’d been owned by those they claim to represent.

Cemeteries—these stones—aren’t for the dead.

No, they’re for the living.

My gaze trails over the Celtic symbols engraved at the center of each one. Identical to the tattoos inked into my body. Faith. Brotherhood. Hope.

My eyes linger on Kate’s as they usually do, and the memory of when I’d given her the trinity heart necklace pours over me.

“It’s the Celtic symbol for hope. Now you’ll always know where to find it
,” I’d told her.

Damn. I’d given it to her so she’d think of me whenever she needed me, but really, it was I who needed her.

I take a deep breath to hold myself together. I lost everything the day Kate died.

I rake a hand through my hair and shut my eyes. Out here, away from everyone, I don’t have to pretend that I have a fucking clue how to live without her.

Out here, it’s just me.

In front of Kate’s gravestone, I lower myself to the ground, dropping the flowers at my side. My chest is empty, yet somehow, it hurts. It’s the same damn thing year after year—aching to see her smile at me just one more time. One more and I’d be satisfied, I tell myself.

I know it’s a lie because one more smile from her would never be enough. I need to touch her, run my fingers over her warm skin and protect the hell out of her.

But I’m a failure. I had the power within me, in my blood, to save her, and I failed.

I can barely see the inches in front of me as I break down. Four years ago, my father sat here with me and told me the pain would never go away, but it would lessen over time.

What a load of bullshit; the pain has only grown.

“I miss you so damn much, Katie,” I say even though she can’t hear me. And that thought kicks me in the gut as much as anything. No matter what I say to her now, she’ll never know any of it.

I slide my fingertips over her name: Kathryn “Katie” Browdy. Seventeen short years on this earth and I only had her last months. They were the best months of my life.

I sit with her until the sun begins to send streaks of gold over the horizon. Even though Kate would be disappointed, I need to pick up more liquor before I head home. I have to have something to get me through this pain.

A gust of wind rustles the dead flowers I left on their graves last week. I scoop them up and replace them with the fresh ones I brought. Daisies for my mother, some generic flowers he wouldn’t give a shit about for Liam, and red roses for Kate.

Always red roses for my Katie.

“Love you, Mom,” I murmur, fanning out the daisies in the vase beside her headstone.

Then I move onto Liam’s. “Take care of my girl, man,” I tell him, then I remember how I’d taken care of his. “But if you touch her, I’ll fucking kill you.”

I squat down and lay Kate’s roses at the base of her stone. There’s nothing I could say to her that I haven’t already said a million times. So I settle for the words I couldn’t say until just before she died. “I love you, baby. I’ll always love you.”

~*~

My liquor cabinet is now well stocked, and I grab a bottle of tequila. I knock back a swig. Damn good shit right there. I pound down another on my way to the living room.

Dylan’s probably at The Underground, grinding against the chicks who only order sex on the beach because of the name, and have had one too many. Or two too many.

But what the hell. Finals are over, and The Underground is the place to be tonight. I might head over later after I’ve got enough of a buzz going to forget what this week means to me.

Either way, at the end of the night my plan is to be passed out in bed, gloriously numb to the hole in my chest. I really don’t give a shit how I end up there.

I collapse on the sofa and swing my feet up on the coffee table. Gulping down another drink of tequila, I hear my phone go off in the back pocket of my jeans. Without setting down the bottle, I twist and dig it out.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Damian?”

The familiar voice smashes into my ear, and for a second, I’m paralyzed.

Fuck. Me.

Chapter 3

Elizabeth

“Damian, are you there?” I repeat since he hasn’t said anything. “It’s me, Ellie,” I say, because he won’t recognize my new Florida cell phone number. I wanted a fresh start when I left Iowa, and that included seven new digits with an 850 area code.

A lot has changed in the last four years, and I wasn’t sure he’d remember my voice.

“Uh, yeah. I’m here,” he finally says, and in the background, I hear the clunk of glass hitting a table.

Inwardly, I cringe. I guess some things don’t change.

Just hang up, Ellie. This is a stupid idea.

I tuck my legs up under me, the wicker loveseat creaking. I should take my own advice, tell him this was a mistake, and figure something else out. Damian wasn’t the only reason I had to get away, but he was the biggest one.

“How’ve you been, Elle?” he asks.

He’s the only person who ever called me Elle. Liam started calling me Ellie when we began to date, but I was Elizabeth to everyone else. Even now, after all this time, a flood of chills sweeps up my spine as he says it.

I swallow, giving myself a second to reply. “I’m doing okay. You?”

Small talk is worthless. I should either end this call or get to the point. No use allowing these tiny ripples of emotion to make themselves at home in my stomach after I’ve worked so hard to keep them at bay. Destroying them by moving fifteen hundred miles away and immersing myself in my studies didn’t work, so this is the next best thing. Really, it’s all I can do to pretend they don’t exist. I can’t let them control me again.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m good,” he says without conviction.

He’s not doing good. I can hear it in his voice. I also know the timing of this phone call sucks, but I won’t be in Iowa much longer, and I need to get this over with sooner rather than later. I’ve waited as long as I could, and now I’m cutting it super close.

The problem is I’m still debating whether or not to go through with my plans. Unfortunately, I’ve run out of options, and Damian is my absolute last choice since my friend Kerri had a family emergency and flew home to Canada last week. My plane leaves in two days, and if I don’t have something lined up, I can kiss this spectacular opportunity goodbye. Great Barrier Reef projects of this magnitude don’t come along every day. I
need
this to complete my thesis.

I only wish it hadn’t come down to asking Damian a favor. Of all things, that’s what I’m left with.

“Well, um, the reason I’m calling is that I’m in Iowa for a couple of days, and I was wondering if maybe we could…uh…meet up tomorrow morning?” I say against my better judgment. Then I hold my breath, half hoping he’ll tell me he never wants to see me again. Honestly, that would be best for both of us.

“Tomorrow morning?” he repeats. “Yeah, sure. We can do that.”

Dammit.

“Great. Um…”

“I have a place up in Ames, close to campus. I can text you the address.”

His place? I’d been hoping for somewhere a little more…public. But before I can suggest a change in venue, the flutters rippling under my skin make their way to my mouth. “Okay.”

I’m a glutton for punishment. So stupid.

We don’t have to stay at his house, though, right? I mean, when I arrive there tomorrow, I’ll suggest we go out for breakfast or something. The last thing I need is to be alone with him again. The last time I let my guard down with him…well, it’s the reason I’m meeting with him in the morning.

I’ve got to get myself under control before then. I’m twenty-four years old now, for God’s sake. I can handle this.

I straighten my back, sitting up taller for my own encouragement, and take a deep breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Damian.”

“Bye, Elle.”

Shit. That name again.

“Bye,” I breathe out and hang up before my heart rate doubles again. I lift my head to the porch ceiling, and suddenly I regret the whole conversation. I’m such an idiot! I shouldn’t have called him. I should have…I don’t know.

I don’t have another choice unless I call my professor and say “Screw the trip.” If I did, I’d be out a ton of money that took me over a year to save up, but hell. Maybe that’s worth not having to face Damian.

I mean, can he even handle it?

I peer into the backyard of my childhood home. So much has changed, yet so much has stayed the same. The old swing set my dad built for me still sits in the exact same spot it has for twenty years. Unused for the bulk of those years until the other day.

It’s nice to see my parents again in the flesh instead of over Skype. I haven’t been back since I left. Plane tickets are expensive, and between school, work, and everything else, I’ve never made the time to make it up. They did make it down to Florida once though, since I moved. Christmas, three years ago. Before Dad got too bad to travel.

This isn’t how I had envisioned my life. These aren’t the plans Liam and I made. Not even close.

As soon as we graduated from college, we were going to get married. Liam should be at Harvard Law right now while I teach kindergarteners how to read and write. Maybe we’d even be discussing when to start our own little family.

I take a drink of lemonade and set it back on the end table as I shake off the life I was never meant to have. The life Liam took with him when he died.

It’s been six years since I said goodbye to him. The first two after his death were the most difficult, but at least I had Damian to comfort me, numb me. And at first, that’s all our relationship had been about.

Then…then something shifted. For me, anyway. I can’t pinpoint when it happened exactly, I just know that when Kate Browdy entered his life, it tore mine apart for the second time. I have nothing against Kate; I never even met her.

But it was because of her I realized somewhere during those two years, I developed feelings for Damian. Feelings I tried hard to bury because they created a swell of guilt within me. I’d been Liam’s girlfriend, and now that he was gone, I was falling for his brother.

So, as soon as I finished the semester at Drake, I transferred to Florida State. I had to get away. Away from Liam. From the guilt and from the man who didn’t love me back.

And now, tomorrow morning, I have to ask that man a huge favor. A favor he knows absolutely nothing about, because I had to distance myself from him.

I have my life on track now. I have a goal for my future, and it doesn’t include Damian Lowell.

Hopefully, four years is enough time for my heart to forget how much I loved him.