Chapter 173 Dreams We Buried

Chapter 173 Dreams We Buried
ZARA

My eyes blinked open to the sight of white ceiling panels I didn't recognize at first. I sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as the memory of last night rushed back. I had waited for hours in his penthouse to celebrate my promotion, finally crashing on his sofa. I had no memory of walking down the hall. Damon must have carried me into his bedroom while I was asleep.

But where is he?

I slid out of bed, my bare feet hitting the cold floor as I walked through the quiet apartment in search of him. The living room and the kitchen were entirely empty. But as I stepped toward the counter, a small white slip of paper caught my eye. I picked it up, recognizing his bold, hurried handwriting instantly.

Good morning, sunshine. I am so sorry about last night. An emergency contract dropped in right when I was about to leave, and I totally forgot the time. I stepped out to grab some groceries for breakfast so I can make it up to you. Will be back soon. I love you.

I dropped the note back onto the counter with a small smile. The disappointment from yesterday faded a bit, replaced by the relief that he was actually trying. I walked into the restroom to wash up. Once I was done, I went into his massive walk-in closet to look for one of his oversized sweaters to wear.

While pushing aside a row of identical, stiff suits, my foot caught against something solid hidden at the very back of the floor.

I reached down into the dark corner, my fingers wrapping around a long, webbed handle. I pulled it out into the light, my breath catching as I realized what it was. His old university lacrosse stick. A thick layer of grey dust completely covered the mesh pocket, burying the crest of the team he used to lead before his father blocked all his athletic contracts. It looked like a ghost of his past, hidden away so deeply that no one was ever supposed to find it.

I brought it into the living room, grabbed a clean towel from the kitchen, and wiped away the dust. Once it was clean, I set the stick right across the center of the coffee table where he couldn't possibly miss it.

Twenty minutes later, the front door lock chimed, and Damon walked in. He was holding two heavy bags of groceries, wearing a casual grey sweatshirt, but the dark circles under his eyes told me he was still completely exhausted. He kicked the door shut with his boot, a warm smile starting to form on his lips the moment his eyes locked onto mine. "Hey. You're awake."

Then, his gaze tracked down to the coffee table, and he completely froze.

The smile instantly vanished. His entire body went rigid as he stared at the lacrosse stick. The air in the penthouse turned completely still.

"When was the last time you touched this, Damon?" I asked gently, stepping toward him.
Damon didn't look at me. He walked right past the table and dropped the grocery bags onto the kitchen island, his voice dropping to a flat, completely indifferent register as he began pulling out cartons of eggs and fruit. "I found a great bakery down the street, Zee. I brought those cinnamon pastries you like. Let's eat before they get cold."

"Damon, don't change the subject," I said, refusing to let him hide behind a script. I walked over to the island and placed my hand firmly over his wrist, stopping him completely. "Talk to me."

"It's just old equipment, Zara," he growled, a sharp, defensive edge cutting into his deep voice as he pulled his hand back. His jaw clenched tightly. "It doesn't matter anymore. I have a merger timeline to review before Monday morning."

"It does matter!" I countered fiercely, the frustration I had been bottling up finally breaking. For the first time since we made up, we were in a real argument about his future. "You are completely miserable in those suits, Damon. Your brother is sabotaging you, your mother shuns you, and your father does nothing but frustrate you every single day. Your father already stole your dream. Why are you helping him keep it?"

Damon snapped his head up, his dark eyes pitch black with a dangerous, explosive desperation as he loomed over the counter, his breathing suddenly ragged.
"You think I want to be here?!" Damon roared, his voice booming off the walls, shattering the quiet of the apartment. "You think I enjoy sitting at that table watching Elias take the credit for a strategy I bled for? I am doing this for you, Zara! I am staying in this hell because if I walk out that door, Thomas will drop a federal financial raid on your parents' house before noon tomorrow! He has the grand jury files locked in his desk! I am burying my own life to keep your family safe, so don't you dare tell me I'm helping him!"

I froze, the air violently leaving my lungs as the terrifying reality of his words slammed into me. My heart hammered against my ribs. He was sacrificing his freedom to act as a shield for my family.

"Damon..." I whispered, my voice cracking as a lone tear spilled over my eyelashes. "I didn't know this was the reason. You should have told me when I asked."

"I wanted to protect you," he rasped, his broad shoulders slumping as the anger suddenly drained from his veins, leaving him looking completely hollow. He reached across the counter, his fingers catching mine. "I just wanted to keep the smoke away from you, baby."

Before I could even step around the island to hold him, the sharp ring of his cell phone violently shattered our bubble. The screen illuminated with his father's name.

Damon let out a heavy breath, hitting the receiver immediately as his posture locked back into a rigid, compliant frame. "Yes. I’m on my way."

He hung up, violently grabbing his coat from the barstool. "I have to leave immediately, Zara. The legal council just paged an emergency meeting regarding the merger logs."

"Today is Saturday, for goodness' sake, Damon!" I cried out, stepping forward to catch his sleeve, a desperate panic rising in my chest. "You have your own life! He can't just call you like that on a weekend and expect you to run!"

"It's fine, Zara," Damon muttered, his face turning into a completely sterile mask as he opened the front door. "I will call you."

He stepped out into the corridor, and the heavy door clicked shut behind his back with a definitive, chilling finality. I stood entirely alone in the empty living room, looking from the groceries on the counter to the clean lacrosse stick on the table, the terrifying truth of our war zone settling deep into my soul.