Chapter 163 163
“Are we going to live here forever?”
Mathieu’s voice was soft, almost swallowed by the dark. He lay beside her, wide awake despite the story she’d finished telling minutes ago. Both of them stared up at the ceiling, sleep nowhere in sight.
“No,” she murmured gently. “We’ll go back soon.”
Of course they would. This place was temporary. They didn’t belong here not really.
She was grateful beyond words for everything Damien had done. He was paying for Mathieu’s treatment. He’d given them shelter, safety, food. But gratitude didn’t quiet the storm inside her. Mathieu’s schooling had been interrupted. Julien was likely searching for him. Everything felt suspended, fragile.
“What will happen to him?” Mathieu whispered. “I hope he stays in prison forever.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
He hated his father because of her. But if she were honest, Julien had never truly been a good father to him either. The only pure thing about him had been the love he once had for Édith.
She had seen it herself the tenderness, the devotion he’d shown their mother. But after her death, something in him rotted. Whatever light he carried died with her.
If Édith were alive today, she would despise the man he had become.
“I don’t know, chubby-cheeks,” she whispered softly.
“Are you going to miss Damien when we go back?”
Her breath hitched at the unexpected question. “Yeah… I will.”
“Do you like him?”
That caught her off guard. Was she really that obvious?
“Is that bad?” she asked quietly, a small pout forming on her lips. For reasons she didn’t quite understand, she wanted his approval. She needed to know what he thought of Damien.
“It’s not bad,” Mathieu said slowly. “I like him. He’s a good guy, b-but…”
“But?” She rolled onto her side, propping her head on her palm, studying him with interest.
“He’s always so brooding. Distant. Like anything could set him off. He doesn’t feel… reliable.”
She blinked, surprised by how perceptive he was.
Her mind drifted back to the truth-or-dare night. The way Damien had gone rigid when she described her first kiss. The way his eyes had darkened before he abruptly stood and disappeared into the house, leaving everyone confused.
She hadn’t known what he’d felt anger? jealousy? regret? pride? She didn’t know whether he was pleased or furious about being her first kiss.
The next morning, he’d been gone before she woke.
He was layered, complicated impossible to read.
“Yeah,” she whispered, because she didn’t have anything else to offer.
“Do you miss Hélène?” Mathieu asked.
A fragile smile touched her lips. “I miss her so much.”
She missed all of it the familiar walls, her friends, the version of life before everything fractured.
“I miss her too. When we go back, we’ll find a house like this one. And we’ll keep Hélène with us. Like always.”
She nodded, combing her fingers gently through his hair. He yawned, snuggling deeper beneath the comforter. Within minutes, his breathing evened out.
She stayed for a moment longer, watching him sleep, then slipped quietly from the room.
Her steps slowed when she reached Damien’s door.
The urge to go inside to breathe in the scent that felt like safety was almost overwhelming. But she forced herself upstairs instead and retreated to her own room.
Closing the door behind her, she moved to the closet.
His shirt lay folded neatly among her clothes.
It should have felt strange, keeping it. Instead, it felt like it belonged to her now.
She lifted it and pressed it to her chest, inhaling deeply only to frown when his scent didn’t greet her. She’d washed it. Of course it no longer smelled like him.
That shirt had been her armor. The night he saved her from Julien, he’d given it to her. Since then, she had slept in it every night. Even when sleep rarely came, wearing it made her feel protected.
He still wasn’t home.
A reckless thought bloomed in her mind.
Before her conscience could intervene, she was already hurrying down the stairs and slipping into his room.
She shut the door behind her, heart pounding. Moonlight bathed the space in silver, but she flipped the light on anyway, scanning the room quickly.
Relief washed over her when she spotted his cologne on the dresser.
She moved toward it, picked up the sleek bottle, removed the cap, and brought it to her nose. A soft, dreamy sigh escaped her.
Then reality snapped back.
She sprayed it onto his shirt just enough and set the bottle back exactly where it had been.
“What are you doing?”
She froze.
Her entire body went rigid as she clutched the shirt tighter. Slowly, very slowly she lifted her gaze.
Through the reflection in the dresser mirror, her wide eyes met his.
Her mind went blank.
What was she supposed to say? Oh, hello. I’m just stealing your cologne so your shirt smells like you again?
He would think she’d lost her mind.
“I… I was just, um… checking on Coco,” she said, her laugh coming out strained as she pointed toward the bird.
Coco chirped cheerfully, betraying her.
She hastily balled the shirt in her hands.
Turning quickly, she headed for the door. “Coco’s fine. I’ll just go,” she added in a pitch that climbed embarrassingly high.
She almost made it past him.
His hand shot out, gripping her arm and halting her escape.
Internally, she groaned.
He tugged her gently but firmly until she stood directly in front of him. Instinctively, she hid the bundled shirt behind her back, praying he wouldn’t notice the heavy scent of cologne now lingering in the room.
She kept her eyes lowered.
When he said nothing, the silence stretched unbearably. She dared to glance up only to see his gaze focused somewhere behind her.
Her stomach dropped.
She followed his line of sight and caught the reflection in the vanity mirror.
The shirt.
In her hands.
Busted.