Chapter 11
1333 Words
Hannah
Holding Damien’s hand in daylight felt considerably more reckless than going to Leah’s party.
At the party, there had been music, dim rooms, and people too busy enjoying themselves to notice every little thing.
Outside the pack clinic, there was Mrs. Bell.
Of course there was.
She came down the steps carrying a prescription bag, spotted us, and slowed.
“Hannah.”
“Morning.”
Her eyes dropped to our hands.
Damien’s fingers loosened slightly.
Not letting go.
Giving me the chance.
I held on.
“Your mother’s inside,” Mrs. Bell said.
“I know. I brought her lunch.”
“How thoughtful.”
Her smile tightened when she looked at Damien.
“I heard about last night.”
“Seems everyone’s had an informative morning,” he said.
My stomach sank.
Mrs. Bell’s mouth flattened.
“Perhaps you should consider why.”
Damien smiled.
It wasn’t a friendly smile.
I squeezed his hand once.
He looked down at me.
“Enjoy your morning,” I told her.
Then I walked toward the doors, taking him with me.
⸻
Inside, Damien stopped beside the little waiting area.
“That was impressive.”
“What?”
“Thought you might remove my arm.”
“You were about to say something awful.”
“Unproven allegation.”
I tried not to smile.
Mum appeared behind the reception counter.
Her gaze went from my face to Damien.
Then to our hands.
“Oh.”
I released him so I could lift the bag.
“You forgot lunch.”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “Apparently, I did.”
Damien stepped back.
“I’ll wait outside.”
Mum looked at him.
“Thank you for walking her.”
“Wasn’t difficult. She knows most of the route.”
I elbowed him lightly.
He smiled at me before leaving.
Mum watched the door close.
Then she looked back at me.
“We should talk.”
⸻
We stood in the little staff kitchen while she put the pastries on a plate.
I waited for the warning.
Instead, she asked, “How are you feeling about last night?”
“I still don’t like that he hit Callan.”
“Good.”
“But what Callan did was horrible.”
“It was.”
“Damien told his father. Justin’s family is dealing with it.”
Mum nodded.
I leaned against the counter.
“You can say what you’re thinking.”
She set down the bag.
“I’m thinking you like him more than you expected.”
Heat rose into my face.
“I didn’t expect to like him at all.”
“That’s usually inconvenient.”
I looked at her.
She smiled faintly.
“Your father is frightened because he can see where this might go.”
“To lunch?”
“Hannah.”
I looked down.
Mum stepped closer.
“Don’t let defending Damien become more important than noticing how he treats you.”
“I’m not.”
“I hope not.”
There was no accusation in it.
That made listening easier.
Then she added, “And don’t decide something is love simply because people object to it.”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it again.
“I didn’t say love.”
“I know.”
⸻
Damien stood across the path, talking to a woman I recognized from school collections.
Beside her, a little boy pointed excitedly at his bandaged knuckles.
I couldn’t hear the question.
I could guess.
Damien’s eyes lifted when I approached.
“Survived?”
“Barely.”
“Medical professionals. Ruthless.”
The woman smiled politely at me, then guided the boy inside.
I watched them go.
“What did he ask?”
“Whether I punched a rogue.”
“What did you say?”
“That he should ask his mother before testing the theory.”
I laughed.
Then noticed Damien rubbing his hand.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes.”
The answer surprised me.
He raised an eyebrow.
“What? Want something heroic?”
“No.”
“Good. Hurts.”
We started walking.
For once, neither of us had anywhere urgent to be.
⸻
At the little square, we passed a family getting out of a car.
The parents were arguing quietly while their teenage daughter stood beside the door, pretending not to listen.
Damien glanced over.
Then looked away.
“Pack gathering tonight,” he said.
I’d forgotten.
The monthly supper brought everyone to the hall for announcements, food, and the same conversations rearranged around different tables.
“You’re going?”
“Compulsory family appearance.”
“That sounds cheerful.”
“Thinking of wearing a sign. Save people asking what I’ve done.”
I smiled.
Then he looked at me.
“You’ll be there?”
“Yes.”
“With your parents?”
“That’s usually how families attend.”
“Thought you might be arriving with your future mate.”
The smile left my face.
He saw it.
For a second, I expected him to shrug and pretend I couldn’t take a joke.
Instead, he looked toward the square.
“Cheap,” he muttered.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
We walked a few more steps.
Then I said, “You keep saying it like I’ve already chosen someone over you.”
His head turned.
“I haven’t even met him.”
“Exactly.”
I stopped.
He stopped too.
“What does that mean?”
For a moment, he looked almost angry.
Then he exhaled.
“It means I can stand here being an i***t, and somebody who hasn’t bothered showing up still gets to be the better choice.”
I stared at him.
That was the first time he’d said anything that made the jokes make sense.
⸻
“You’re not competing with anybody,” I said.
“Convenient. Hate losing.”
“Damien.”
He looked down at my hand.
Then back at my face.
“I know what people are telling you.”
“You’ve supplied plenty of material.”
A reluctant smile touched his mouth.
“True.”
“But I can make decisions too.”
His expression grew serious.
“And what have you decided?”
My heart beat harder.
I could have made it sound casual. Said that I liked talking to him, that he was funny sometimes, that helping me didn’t make him terrible company.
All true.
All safer.
Instead, I stepped closer.
“That I wanted to hold your hand.”
He glanced toward the people crossing the square.
“In front of the entire complaints committee?”
“Yes.”
His fingers closed around mine.
This time, neither of us pretended it meant nothing.
⸻
At my gate, he stopped.
For a moment, I thought he might kiss me.
I wanted him to.
That realization arrived so plainly that I forgot to feel embarrassed.
His gaze dropped to my mouth.
Then the front door opened.
Dad.
Naturally.
“Hannah.”
I didn’t let go immediately.
Damien noticed.
So did Dad.
“Your mother said you were bringing lunch.”
“I did.”
Dad looked at Damien.
“We need a word.”
I stiffened.
“About what?”
“Your father asked me to tell you he’s looking for you,” he said to Damien.
Something shifted in Damien’s face.
“The captain?”
Dad nodded.
“He wants you at the hall before supper.”
Damien released my hand.
Not abruptly.
Still, I felt the absence.
“I should go.”
“Will I see you tonight?”
He looked at me.
The question had surprised him.
I was beginning to like doing that.
“Probably regrettably,” he said.
I smiled.
Then he stepped back.
“Night, Ellis.”
“It’s barely afternoon.”
“Preparing.”
I watched him walk away.
Beside me, Dad waited until he reached the corner.
“You’re getting attached.”
This time, I didn’t deny it.
That was what frightened me.
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