Damon’s POV
The early morning light crept through the blinds, but sleep hadn’t come. I lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, my mind looping through questions I couldn’t answer. The email haunted me, its implications burrowing deeper into my thoughts with every passing hour.
The photo on my phone was still open, the grainy image of a past I’d buried staring back at me. It was taken back in New Jersey, from a time when I thought I had everything figured out—a time when the mistakes I made seemed manageable, fixable. But life had a way of showing you just how wrong you could be.
I exhaled sharply and ran a hand over my face, sitting up. I couldn’t afford distractions, not with my recovery finally gaining momentum. Winter had made that clear. But the thought of someone out there holdin
