“I broke us up,” I told him. “Damon, I did that.”
He nodded. “Because I let you.”
“Damon,” I started, then stopped. I had no idea what I was trying to say. That it wasn’t only on him. That I had my own cowardice. That I had walked away, too, walked away every time it mattered, because I was sure I would be the one left behind again.
I looked past him at the path, at the way the lights slanted through the trees. If anyone came around the corner right now,they would see us. They would see the closeness, the tension, the way Damon’s face was open in a way I had never seen in daylight.
My stomach turned.
“There is still the problem of Nick,” I said softly.
Damon nodded. “I know.”
“He’s not going to let this go,” I said. “Not because he’s my brother. Because he’s Nick. He needs something to be against. He will say I’m being manipulated. He’ll say you’re using me. He’ll say you’re doing it to get back at him.”
Damon’s mouth tightened, but he shook his head. “I don’t think he will. Seth.”
I frowned. “Why do you think that?”
“I spoke with Nick. Yesterday. I think he’s…not there yet, but on the right path,” he said.
I nodded gratefully. “I want him in my life, Damon. I don’t want to have to choose one way or the other.” I stopped short of telling him I wanted him at almost any cost.
“I know.” He took another step closer. The space between us tightened to a thread. “I walked away because you said it was over, and I believed that was what you needed from me. But I am not walking away again. Not from you.”
“Then what are you going to do?” I asked. I hated how small my voice sounded.
He looked at me without blinking. “I’m going to choose you. Even if you get angry with me. Even if it’s hard and messy and slow, I’m not asking you to torch your relationship with Nick. I’m asking you to stop letting his fear become yours.”
The words hit somewhere deep, somewhere that had been waiting a long time.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “You make it sound easy.”
“It is not easy,” he said. “But it is simple.”
I shook my head once, a helpless little movement. “You don’t get to be simple. Not with me.”
His mouth twitched. Not a smile. Something more nervous. More real. “I know.”
We stood there for a beat that stretched and thinned, wind hissing through branches, far-off laughter from somewhere on campus. The quiet between us was filled with everything we hadn’t said in years.
Then Damon reached into his jacket pocket. My body tensed automatically, a leftover panic that he might pull out something light and strange to soften the moment. Another little gift to hide behind.
Instead, he pulled out a folded piece of paper. A small rectangle, worn at the edges, like it had been carried for a while.
He held it out to me.
“What is that?” I asked.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Open it.”
I took it carefully, like it might cut me. When I unfolded it, I saw his handwriting. A list.
It took my brain a second to understand what I was looking at.
Dates. Not calendar dates, but moments.
First sleepover. The first time I realized sleeping beside you felt better than sleeping alone. It was cold, but we shared the blanket. You spooned me. Your fingers on my back. Your breath in my ear.