HIS BROKEN SAINT

CHAPTER 14: THE HEALING

Morning came too fast.

Elias woke up in Damien’s arms again. Same position as last night. Face pressed to his chest, Damien’s hand still in his hair, like he’d been holding him all night because he was scared Elias would break again if he let go.

Elias sat up slowly. Eyes puffy. Throat raw.

The truck keys were on the nightstand. Dad’s keys. Proof he hadn’t dreamed the warehouse.

Damien was already watching him. No words. Just watched, like he was checking for cracks.

Elias swung his legs off the bed. Bare feet on cold floor. He didn’t look at Damien. Couldn’t.

Kitchen. Silence.

Damien made coffee. Black. Set one mug in front of Elias at the dining table. Then sat across from him. Close. Knees almost touching under the table.

Elias stared at the coffee. Didn’t drink.

“You’re quiet,” Damien said.

Elias laughed. Bitter. Hollow. “I cried all over you last night. What do you want me to say? Thanks for the therapy session?”

Damien didn’t flinch. “I want you to say what you’re thinking.”

Elias finally looked up. Eyes red but dry now. Jaw tight.

“I don’t want to be owned,” he whispered. Voice shaking but real. “Not like this. Not like a contract. Not like debt.”

The words hung between them. Heavy.

Damien set his mug down. Slow. Deliberate.

He leaned forward. Elbows on the table. Eyes locked on Elias’s.

“Good,” Damien said. Soft. No anger. No CEO mask. “Because you aren’t.”

Elias blinked.

Damien’s hand slid across the table. Didn’t grab. Just rested there. Palm up. Offering.

“But you are,” he continued. Voice low. Rough at the edges. “And you know it. You’re mine, Elias. Not because of a contract. Not because of your father. Because every time I let go, you look lost. Because every night you crawl into my chest and sleep. Because this—” he tapped Elias’s chest, right over his heart “—answers to me now.”

Elias stared at Damien’s hand on the table. Then at Damien’s eyes.

Not possessive. Not cruel. Just certain.

Like he’d waited 12 years to say it and didn’t care how it sounded.

Elias’s throat bobbed. He didn’t take Damien’s hand. Not yet.

“I hate that you’re right,” he whispered.

Damien’s mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “I know.”

Silence again. But different this time. Lighter.

Damien stood. “Finish your coffee.”

Elias did. Hands shaking less now.

When he was done, Damien held out his hand. No words. Just waited.

Elias looked at it for 3 seconds. Then put his hand in Damien’s.

Damien closed his fingers around it. Firm. Warm. Led him out.

---

*Warehouse District. 11:14 AM*

Dad’s truck sat waiting. Engine off. Door open.

Damien didn’t get in the driver’s seat this time. He opened the passenger door for Elias. Then walked around and got in the driver’s side.

“Move over,” he said.

Elias slid to the middle. Close. Shoulder brushing Damien’s.

Damien started the engine. The truck vibrated to life. Then he killed it again.

“First lesson,” Damien said. He put Elias’s hands on the wheel. Then covered them with his own. Ma maimed hand over Elias’s whole hands. “Feel that? That’s the clutch. Dad taught me here too. 2007.”

He pressed the clutch down with his foot, guiding Elias’s foot to do the same. “Slow. Feel it.”

Elias swallowed. “I’m gonna stall.”

“Yeah,” Damien said. Almost a smile in his voice. “You will. So will I. Then we’ll start again.”

His chest was at Elias’s back now, reaching around him to shift gears. Hands over hands. Breath on Elias’s neck.

“Rule 10,” Damien murmured. “You don’t drive alone. Not anymore.”

Elias nodded. Gripped the wheel tighter.

Damien started the engine again. “Ready?”

Elias looked at their hands on the wheel. Dad’s truck. Dad’s lesson. Damien teaching him now.

“Ready,” he whispered.

Damien pressed the gas. Slow. The truck rolled forward an inch.

Elias didn’t flinch.

Because Damien’s hand was on his waist again. Same spot as that morning. Anchor.

_He confesses. Damien answers. Then he teaches him to drive