His hand stayed at my hip.
I stood there waiting for him to add something, to make his words a little easier to hear, or to take them back somehow. But he just stood there, his arm still around me, his face going back to its usual calm look, like he was talking about something ordinary, like the weather or something. He didn't seem to think he had said anything out of the ordinary, anything that needed explaining or apologizing for. It was like he had just stated a fact, and that was it.
"Damien," I said again, quieter this time.
"Not here," he said.
As I glanced around, I realized what he was getting at. A handful of people close by had obviously caught on to what had just gone down, and the air was thick with that peculiar stillness that settles over a small crowd when they're trying
