Damon's POV
The living room felt smaller today, the walls pressing in closer than usual. I'd been sitting on the couch for hours, but the discomfort wasn't just physical. My leg, propped up awkwardly on the coffee table, was a constant reminder of how far I'd fallen.
I picked up the crutches leaning against the armrest and stared at them for a moment. These things had become my unwanted companions, their presence a glaring symbol of what I'd lost.
A text pinged on my phone, dragging me out of my thoughts. It was from Eric.
"How's the rehab going? Hope you're ready to pull your weight soon."
My jaw tightened. I could hear the sneer in his words, even though they were wrapped in politeness. I stared at the screen, debating whether to reply, but the frustration bubbling in my chest told
