Chapter 112

Chapter 112
Damon’s POV

I sat in the driver’s seat of my black Range Rover, watching the slow exodus of students through the school’s iron gates. Laughter carried in thin, uneven threads over the parking lot, girls in pleated skirts swatting at each other’s hats, boys yanking at ties already loosened as if they’d been suffocating all morning.

I wasn’t here for them. I was here for Mike. Or I was supposed to be.

He’d been ignoring me for three weeks, my calls, my texts, even the messages I knew he’d read but pretended hadn’t arrived. The last time we spoke, his voice had been too clipped, too careful. It reeked of someone trying to build distance before cutting the cord completely. And I wasn’t in the mood to let him disappear on his own terms.

I’d told myself this visit to the school was neutral, just a friendly drop-by to see Mike because I knew he would be there. But the longer I sat there, the more it tasted like confrontation.

My gaze swept the thinning crowd. No Mike. But then, there he was.

Not Mike. Max.

The kid stood just inside the gates, his weight shifting from one foot to the other, eyes darting quick as if tracking invisible gnats. His blazer hung half-off one shoulder, tie lopsided, graduation sash clutched loosely in one hand. Every few seconds, his gaze flitted to the street, then to the school doors, then back again.

I felt something sharp settle in my chest.

Opportunity.

I stepped out of the Rover, the door shutting with that satisfying low thump. Adjusted my cuffs. Smoothed my expression into something soft, warm, approachable. I crossed the street slowly, letting the sound of my footsteps on the wet pavement announce me before my voice did.

“Max,” I said, letting his name land like I’d just spotted an old friend.

He turned, startled, but didn’t step back. His brows drew together, mouth parting. “Uh… yeah?”

I smiled, not wide, just enough to touch my eyes. “Hey. I’m a friend of your Uncle Mike.”

His face loosened a fraction. “Oh. Um… he’s not here.”

“I noticed,” I said lightly, glancing toward the school doors as if I’d half-expected Mike to stroll out any second. “I’ve been trying to catch up with him, but…” I gave a little shrug, let my voice dip to something conspiratorial. “He’s a hard man to pin down lately, isn’t he?”

Max huffed a small laugh, nervous. “Yeah. He… uh, he was supposed to be here. For the graduation thing. But he just… disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” I tilted my head, letting concern wrinkle my brow. “What do you mean?”

“He was here,” Max said quickly, as if defending Mike’s honor. “I was with him. Then I went to greet my teacher and when I came back, he was gone. I’ve been standing here, waiting.” His grip on the sash tightened. “I texted Mom, but she didn’t answer.”

I made a show of considering this, my gaze flicking briefly toward the parking lot, scanning for shapes that weren’t there. Then I stepped closer, lowering my voice.

“Funny thing,” I said. “I actually just spoke to your mom.”

His head snapped up. “You did?”

“Mm.” I let the lie settle between us like a well-placed chess piece. “She’s putting together a surprise for you. That’s why Mike left—he’s helping her get things ready. They didn’t want you to suspect anything, but…” I leaned in slightly, as if sharing an inside joke. “I’m terrible at keeping good secrets.”

Max blinked at me, the tension in his shoulders softening just enough for me to see the hook take.

“A surprise?”

“Exactly. And I’m here to make sure you get there without ruining it. They were worried you’d wander off before they could get you.” I glanced around the dispersing crowd, adding a touch of impatience to my tone. “You’ve got time for one more adventure before you head home, right?”

He hesitated, chewing at the inside of his cheek.

I kept my expression open, patient. “It’s not far. Five minutes, tops. We’ll be back before your friends even notice you’re gone.”

The sounds around us seemed to magnify, the slap of sneakers on wet pavement, the metallic groan of the gate swinging wider, the far-off honk of a taxi. Max’s eyes darted once more toward the street.

“What… what kind of surprise?” he asked, trying for casual but not quite pulling it off.

I smiled again, warmer this time. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it?”

His fingers worried the edge of his sash, twisting the fabric.

“Come on,” I said, letting my tone brighten just enough to make it sound like an invitation, not a command. “Your mom’s been planning this for weeks. Mike’s in on it too. You don’t want to make them think you’re not interested.”

That last part—guilt—always worked better than fear.

He glanced back toward the school one last time, then exhaled. “Okay. But… I have to be back soon.”

“Of course,” I said smoothly, already angling my body toward the street. “This won’t take long.”

We walked side by side toward the Rover, our footsteps syncing in uneven rhythm. As we passed under the arching iron of the school gate, I let my eyes flick briefly to the security booth, empty. Perfect.

The sky was the color of silver, clouds hanging low but thin enough for the sun to poke through in watery shafts. The scent of damp grass mixed with faint diesel from a bus idling somewhere behind us.

Max slowed a little when he saw the Rover. “Nice car,” he said, voice tight.

“Thanks,” I replied, unlocking it with a soft chirp. “Plenty of room. Hop in.”

He slid into the passenger seat, placing his sash carefully on his lap like it might wrinkle under its own weight. I got in on the driver’s side, the leather seats exhaling that faint rich smell as I settled.

The engine purred to life, smooth as a cat stretching.

As we pulled away from the curb, I kept my tone light, weaving in harmless questions, how the ceremony went, if the speeches were boring, what he was planning to do after school. He answered in short bursts, still guarded, but less stiff than before.

“Your mom’s really proud of you,” I said at one point, glancing at him before turning back to the road. “She told me you worked hard for this.”

His lips twitched into a small smile. “She… she said that?”

“She did.”

The lie slid down as easily as water. I took a left turn, the tires hissing over damp asphalt, and the school disappeared behind us.