Restore Me (5 page)

“Stand,” I say softly as my hands hook beneath
his arms again. He gets to his feet like he did before, without a
sign of coherency. The boxer briefs and pants slide up easily. I
straighten the band of his pants and press my hands to his
shoulders again, prompting him to sit. He does. I gather the shirt
and pull it over his head, guiding his arms into the sleeves. He’s
fully dressed but doesn’t move. Hardly blinks. Nothing.

Seeing him so despondent rips me apart. He’s
like a snake that’s shed his skin. This Damon has the shape and
markings of his old self, but he’s brittle and empty. It feels like
my love died in that truck and left this skin, this shadow, as my
consolation prize for instigating this disaster. If that’s what
this is; I deserve my punishment.

I run my finger tips over his cheek and do my
best to muster up some courage. The task before me is daunting as
hell and it scares me, but the alternative is far worse. I can
either bring him back to me or lose him forever. The idea of never
having him back the way he was is frightening. It robs the breath
from my lungs.

I’ll find him.

I’ll get him to come back to me.

I have to.

My desire to win him back is not just for him.
The need to save Damon from his own personal hell is self
preservation in its purest form.

“Time to go, Big Man.”

***

“Thank you for
helping us up, Howard,” Brian says, slipping the doorman a generous
tip.

I feel sorry for Howard. He looks dazed and a
little confused. Damon is always so in control; I’m sure seeing his
boss looking like a fucking zombie has Howard freaked out.

“No problem, Brian. Jo,” he demurs with a nod.
“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

“Thanks,” I say to his back as he hurries from
the penthouse back to the elevator.
Yep, he’s freaked
out.

Dr. Versan quietly observes us; he has been all
day. I’m not sure he ever stops. He might as well get his fucking
pen out and get to scribbling because I can tell he’s mentally
noting everything. It’s irritating. I figure if he has something on
his mind that pertains to me, I want to know what the hell it
is.

“So, what’s the game plan, doc?”

He smirks at my overly casual attitude. “I want
you at my office in the morning. Nine o’clock.”

My arched eyebrow communicates exactly what I’m
thinking.
What the hell?
My eyes shoot daggers at Brian. “Is
this the appointment you set up?” I demand.

Brian holds up his hands in mock surrender. “No,
no, angry lady! I set one up for next week! I swear!”

“Hmm…” I’m not sure I believe that one. “Do you
mean both of us?”

He shakes his head. “No, just you. Call me
directly if I’m needed.”

I want to pitch a fit, but decide that keeping
my mouth shut is probably best. If I cut loose, I don’t know when
I’ll stop. I’m not the one who just had a major breakdown. Sure, I
have issues, but I haven’t tried to kill myself lately. I’ll handle
Versan in the morning. “Fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The good doctor nods and turns to leave. “Brian,
I think Josephine and Damon will be okay now. She’ll let us know if
they need anything.”

“I’m just going to go pick them up some dinner,”
Brian says. “I’ll be back in a hour or so?” He says his goodbyes to
Zombie Damon and engulfs me in a fierce hug. “Good luck, honey,” he
whispers.

The front door closes and I am left completely
alone. The last time I was alone in the penthouse with Damon, he
was on his knees begging me to stay.
Why didn’t I just
stay?!

I glance to Zombie Damon and see that he has
seated himself on that ugly, hard as a rock, modern decor couch. I
silently remind myself to throat punch Ms. Decorator Barbie for
choosing such uncomfortable furniture for the common areas.

“You scared Howard. Maybe you could go talk to
him. Order him to do something so he feels better.”
Did I really
just reprimand him? That can’t be helpful.
I set my bag on the
floor and lazily stroll over to where he’s sitting. I was nervous
to have him here alone but now that we’re here, I feel more
comfortable than I thought I would. I sit beside him and wait in
vain for a response. I know he isn’t going to say a damn thing, but
it doesn’t keep me from hoping.

Hope is a mostly foreign concept to me, but
where Damon is concerned, I have all the hope in the universe,
multiplied by a million, and that still doesn’t accurately describe
it. Who knew hope could be so frustrating and scary? I feel like
I’m gambling and the wager is irreplaceable. My heart is the bet on
the felt and I’m praying to God or whoever to let the cards fall
just right; just this once. If having him the way he was is the
extent of my good fortune for the rest of my existence, then I’ll
happily take it. I’ll be content and never want for more. The man
with whom my hopes and dreams reside is still sitting beside me,
silent. I wish I knew what to say at this very moment to get him to
come out of this…haze.

The simple fact is I’ve been wracking my brain
for days and I have nothing to show for it. Except maybe bags under
my eyes from lack of sleep. I’m exhausted. I’m spent. Physically,
emotionally and mentally. I’m running on fumes. I draw a deep
breath through my nose and stifle back a yawn. I put my hand to
Damon’s cheek and brush my fingers against the beard that has grown
in since the accident.

“This needs to be trimmed.”

No response.

“You look tired. Lay down.”

No response. I scoot my body across the couch
and tug his arm to pull him down. He lies down on his side with his
head in my lap. My fingers lace through his dark, messy hair.
It
feels the same to me. Does it feel the same to him?

“I meant what I said,” I whisper. “I love you. I
won’t quit. I’ll help you out of this. If I have to wait, then
that’s what I’ll do.” The yawn I held back a moment ago refuses to
go away and my exhaustion wins out over my will to stay awake. I
lean my head back and close my eyes, fingers still tangled in his
hair.

“Jo.”

I startle and my eyes pop open. On instinct, my
hands feel around in the darkness.
Why is it so dark in
here?

“Jo.”

I hear someone calling me but I can’t see
anything; the room is pitch black. I feel around some more and
realize I’m in Damon’s bed.
How the hell did I get in here? I
was on the couch.
I reach for the lamp on the nightstand but it
isn’t there. I’m starting to panic as I wake a bit more.
Someone’s calling me. That isn’t Damon’s voice.

“Hello?” Now I’m fully awake and fully
panicking.
Who took the lamp away? Where’s Damon? Who’s
here?

“Jo, it’s me.” The familiar gruff voice hits me
like a hard jab straight to the mouth.

“C-Captain?” I force out. “Captain, is that
you?”

“I’m your only Captain, right?”

His witty remark eases my panic but I’m still so
confused. Why are the lights out? How did I get in bed? How am I
hearing him right now? “I-How… how are you here?”

His signature chuckle warms me from the inside
out.
This can’t be real.
“I’m always here, Jo. I never
left.”

His voice is the most tender I’ve heard it and
the waterworks kick in full throttle. Maybe it’s what he said or
maybe it’s a combination of everything that has happened, but
either way I’m a sobbing mess. Finally.

“I want to see you. Turn on the lights.”

“You don’t need to see me to know that I’m here.
Always know that. Just because you can’t see me, that doesn’t mean
that I’ve left you. I haven’t left you and neither have your mom
and dad.”

“Please, I want to see you!” I cry out
desperately.

“I know you don’t like being in the dark. No one
does.”

“Please!” I feel hands squeeze my shoulders. It
scares the shit out of me. I close my eyes tight. “Who is that?!
Please turn on the light!”

“Honey, wake up!”

My eyes open and I’m on the couch, staring into
the face of one very pale Brian.

“Shit!” I cry, panting to catch my breath.

“Bad dream?” he asks, settling across from me on
the other overpriced shit sofa.

I put my hands to my face to scrub my sleepy
eyes. My face is wet with tears. With my hands covering my face I
draw in a deep breath. The room feels empty and ten times bigger
than what it is.
Oh shit
.

“Damon! Where’s Damon?” I jump from the sofa and
begin speed walking through the penthouse, checking rooms as I go.
“Damon!”

No answer.

No sign of him.

Shit!
Brian’s right behind me checking
spaces right along with me. I push open the door to a guest
bathroom
. Nothing
.

“I’ll check the guest rooms,” Brian says,
looking just as worried as I feel. He jogs down the hall towards
the guest rooms.

Office.
My legs carry me to his office
door in a blur. The door is shut and I don’t bother knocking. I
know he’s in there. I’m so scared to open the door.
What
if…

I shut off my brain and force myself to go in.
The doorknob is cool to the touch as I slowly turn it and push the
door open. The door swings open at what seems like snail’s pace. I
take one step into the office and there he is.

Zombie Damon is standing in front of a large
file cabinet that looks like one of those fancy ass armoires. He
must’ve heard me come in, because he slams the door to the cabinet
and I jump at the sound. The panic that consumed me just a moment
ago is suddenly replaced with elation. He got up and moved around
without being forced to! He came to his office! He’s doing
something with a fucking cabinet! I’m genuinely ecstatic to see him
functioning somewhat like a human.

“Fuck, Damon! You gave me a heart attack.” I
lean out into the hall and shout, “Brian! He’s in here!”

Brian comes bounding into the office, clearly
relieved. “OMG! I think I’m sweating!” He leans against the door
frame and fans his face with manicured hands.

“See, Damon? You even made the perfectly groomed
gay man sweat.” I laugh a tiny bit on the inside when Brian purses
his lips and draws them to the side in true drama queen
fashion.

“Well, now that you’re not having a bad dream,
he’s found, and dinner is delivered, I’m going home.” Brian steps
over to me and gives me a hug.

“Thanks for dinner.”

He nods and makes a move for the door when
Zombie Damon turns from the cabinet to face us. We both freeze in
anticipation. Zombie Damon’s eyes come to Brian and relief washes
over me when I see a measure of alertness in him.
Thank
fuck!

“Brian, I need to speak with you. Alone.”

What?
Zombie Damon is
speaking?!

He doesn’t even look at me when he says the
words. I feel completely rejected. Ignored. Unworthy. For the first
time in my whole fucking existence I’m truly at a loss for
words.

Brian looks at me with a mixed expression of
shock and pity. It makes my skin crawl and I do my best to bolster
some small trace of confidence before I leave the room. I nod my
head and stride away from them, hurrying down the hall like being
near him is dangerous to my health. It probably is. I’ve lost my
damn mind. Love screws people up something fierce.

I find Hemingway asleep in his little travel
kennel beside the couch. “Hey, little guy. I missed you. I bet
Damon missed you, too.” I scoop the furball out and snuggle him to
my chest. I scratch behind his little ears and watch as his eyes
close in doggie bliss. With Hemingway in my arms, I climb the
stairs and make my way into the loft library. I plant myself on one
of the cushy couches and hold my pup out in front of me, showing
him the thousands of books.