Chapter 50: CHAPTER FIFTY

Winter's POV

Damon’s growing suspicion of me is suffocating. I can feel it in the way he looks at me now sharp, searching, as though he's peeling me apart, trying to find the crack where all my secrets lie. It's not just Kai anymore; it's everything. His eyes are full of questions I can’t answer, and the silence between us is growing thicker, more suffocating with each passing day.

It’s not that I’m hiding anything from him anymore, at least not in the way I used to. But I can’t help but feel like I'm constantly walking on eggshells around him. One wrong step, one wrong word, and everything might collapse. It’s been like this ever since he first brought up the possibility that Kai could be his son. The truth of that still eats at me every night, gnawing at my insides like a persistent wound that refuses to heal.

I know I should have told him sooner—before all of this even began—but now it feels too late. The longer I keep quiet, the more I build this wall between us. I’ve always been good at hiding things, at keeping my secrets buried deep, but Damon… he sees through it all. I can feel his eyes tracing the edges of my skin, looking for the truth I’ve been too scared to share.

Today’s session should have been a normal one; just therapy, just the usual routine. But everything has changed now. He’s no longer just the patient who needs help to heal; he’s the man who might one day become Kai’s father, the man who has every right to know the truth. And I can’t figure out how to tell him.

The therapy session is quiet, the usual calming silence of Damon’s home settling in around us. I sit across from him, trying to ignore the tension that clings to the room. I’m trying to focus on the exercises we’ve been working on for his leg, but every time I look up, I can feel his gaze on me. “Winter,” he says, his voice quiet but sharp, like a knife being pulled through the air, “can we talk about something?”

I freeze, the muscles in my chest tightening. I nod slowly, my fingers twitching in my lap. “Sure. What’s on your mind?” He shifts in his seat, the discomfort evident in his posture. “I’m not trying to push, but… are we okay? Is this still working for you?”

It’s a simple question, but it hits me like a freight train. His voice is strained, and I can hear the undercurrent of doubt—of suspicion—lining his words. “Of course,” I answer quickly, a little too quickly, and I know he notices. “We’re fine. You’re making progress. That’s what matters right now.”

He doesn’t buy it. I can see the flicker of doubt in his eyes. Damon has always been perceptive—too perceptive sometimes. And I’m not sure how much longer I can keep pretending like everything is fine.

“I know things have been… complicated,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “But I’ve been feeling like something’s off. Not with you, with me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something important.”

My stomach lurches. I swallow hard, hoping my panic doesn’t show on my face. I want to tell him that I’m sorry, that I’m sorry for keeping things from him, for letting everything get this far without being honest. But I can’t find the words.

“We’re working through it, Damon,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “That’s what this is about, right? You’re healing. We’re healing.” His eyes narrow. “Healing from what?”

There’s a pause, and I can feel the walls between us tightening. He’s looking for something—anything that might give him the answer to his questions. But the truth is, I don’t have an answer for him. Not yet.

“I… I just think we need to stay focused on what we’re doing now,” I say, my voice more fragile than I want it to be. “We can talk about everything else later when you’re ready.”

Damon leans back in his chair, his jaw tight. I can tell he’s not satisfied with my answer, but he doesn’t press me further. Not yet. After the session, I try to leave the house quickly, but Damon catches my wrist before I can reach the door.

“Winter,” he says, his voice lower now, more urgent. “Tell me if something’s wrong.” I shake my head, pulling away from his grip. “It’s not—there’s nothing wrong,” I lie, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

“Then why do I feel like I’m the last one to know anything? About you, about Kai, about…” He trails off, and the silence that follows is heavy. “Am I the only one you don’t trust?”

His question hangs in the air, and I wish I could take it back. I want to say that I trust him, that I do, but I don’t think I can anymore. Not without risking everything. “I need to go,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I don’t wait for him to respond. I can’t, because if I do, I might just break.

Once I’m in the car, the engine rumbling beneath me, I press my forehead against the steering wheel and close my eyes. My hands are shaking, my heart pounding in my chest. I’ve been holding my breath for so long, and it feels like I might suffocate any minute. I want to tell him. I want to finally be honest, to put everything out in the open. But I’m not ready. Not yet. I pull away from his house, leaving Damon behind, but I know I can’t keep running from him. Not forever. And I hate myself for it.

Later that night,

I sit at my kitchen table, the soft glow of my laptop screen illuminating the room. I’ve been thinking about the poetry site all day. About Blue, and how strange it feels to be sharing parts of myself with someone who has no idea who I really am. It’s the one place where I can be free, where I can speak without fear of judgment or consequence.

I pull up the messages again, scanning over the words that have become so familiar. My heart races when I see his reply, the words raw and honest. Violet, I’ve never been this connected to anyone before. It’s like we understand each other without even saying anything.

I can feel my pulse quicken, the words like a magnet pulling at something deep inside me. Blue doesn’t know it’s me, but I know it’s him. Damon. His words are more than just an anonymous connection—they’re a lifeline.

And for the first time in weeks, I allow myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance for us. Not here. Not in the real world where everything is messy and complicated. But in this small corner of my life where we can speak without fear of what comes next. I respond carefully, cautiously, not sure what I’m expecting but needing the connection.

You’re not alone, Blue. Not as long as I’m here.

The next day, the world felt heavier. Damon is still in my thoughts, his words still echoing in my mind. But the weight of everything else—the blackmail, the secrecy, the lies—has me pinned in place. And I don’t know how much longer I can carry it all. But for now, I’ll keep moving forward. One step at a time.

In your silence, I hear the cries,

The broken dreams you try to disguise,

A man of strength, yet full of doubt,

Carrying burdens you won’t talk about.

You’ve built your walls so high, so steep,

Afraid to fall, afraid to leap,

But if you’d let me close the door,

I’d catch you when you hit the floor.

Your pain is something you don’t show,

But I see it in your eyes that glow,

With every moment that you hide,

You’re pulling me in, I cannot lie.

I want to reach you in your dark,

To touch the place that’s left a mark,

But every time I take a step,

You pull away, your heart kept.

So here I stand, not giving in,

I’ll wait for you to let me in,

For when you’re ready, when you see,

That I’ll love you, endlessly.