“Well, let’s brainstorm an idea.”
That makes me smile. “Okay.”
“Really?” Austin’s excitement is palpable.
“Sure,” I say, chuckling. Talking to Austin feels like home. I miss the fuck out of home sometimes. Things were so easy back then. The world made sense. I still had my parents. I still got to see Austin. I wasn’t afraid to talk to him about my life or my problems. Hell, I wasn’t afraid to talk to him at all.
“Alright. Hit me, Luc. What are you thinking?”
I close my eyes, letting the real world fall away. “What about something Hallmarky? A Christmas story.”
Austin chuckles. “Okay. Main character names?”
I don’t know. I can’t even really think of any names right now. “I’m not sure.” I open my eyes, frustrated that, like always, there are no ideas in my head. It fucking sucks.
“That’s alright,” Austin says gently. “It’ll come to you, I’m sure. And when it does, you can text me.”
“Alright. I’ll take you up on that.” If an idea ever comes to me again. I’m pretty sure all my creativity is gone. I’m not sure I’ll ever find it again.
“Do you need me to let you go?” I don’t miss the hint of disappointment in Austin’s voice as he asks the question.
“No. I think we can talk for a while longer. Tell me about your day?”
Austin blows out a long breath. “Busy and hard. We had a major structure fire to put out. No lives were lost, but I swear I can still smell the smoke. You’d think I’d be immune to it by now, but clearly I’m not.”
I settle back on the couch, pulling my feet under me. “Where was it?”
“A newer duplex. It wasn’t around when you were still here. It’s gone now, though. We’re thinking electrical, so they should be able to rebuild at any rate.”
“I’m just glad no one was hurt.”
“God, me too.”
I close my eyes, letting Austin’s voice over the line soothe the ragged edges of fear and exhaustion. I’m barely even speaking, content to just let him ramble on about his day, when the sound of the key turning in the door makes my heart stop.
“Fuck, I’ve gotta go,” I whisper, panic rising in my chest. I lost track of time. I never lose track of time. I didn’t even make dinner. Oh fuck.
“What—” I cut Austin’s voice off by hanging up.
Please don’t call back. Please don’t call back. Please don’t call back.
I jump to my feet, rushing to the door just as it opens and Damien walks in. “Hi,” I breathe, trying to stay calm.
He gives me an unimpressed once-over. “You look like shit.”
The words don’t even hurt me. They never do anymore. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time and didn’t freshen up.”
Damien studies me, then grips my chin so hard it pulls on my lip, making it sting. “Lost track of time? Doing what? What could you possibly have going on that has you so busy you couldn’t take five minutes to make yourself presentable for me?”
I swallow hard, forcing my body to still. “I—”
“And what about dinner?” he snaps, not even stopping to breathe, and completely cutting me off. “Did you lose track of that too?”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Um, I was hoping maybe we could have a date night?”
He searches my eyes, and I resist the urge to look away—to break eye contact. After what feels like a lifetime, his grip gentles and his lips curve into a warm smile. “Yeah? You want some time with me, love?”
