Stained

Chapter 122

Smiling, though I don't doubt it doesn't look fake, I place a hand over his cheek. His eyes flutter shut, his brows creasing as if this is physically painful for him.

I quickly brush away a stray tear with my cast as I rub my thumb along his cheek, his morning shadow lightly scratching my skin.

"No," I whisper. And it's the truth. Yes, he hurt me, but I hurt him first. If anything he should hate me.

I know there's a deeper reason as to why I can't hate him, but I'm not ready to acknowledge it. Not if I'm ready to break my newfound composure.

For a brief moment, I wonder if he heard me or not, but then his eyelids lift, he grabs my hand on his cheek, turns his face and kisses my palm. "You should."

I push his hair off his forehead with my cast hand. "Don't say that." The look in his eyes tells me he wants me to hate him.

Self-loathing churns in my stomach. I caused this by hurting him first. By ever allowing his presence.

"You're too kind for this world, Rose. It doesn't deserve you," he pushes my hair behind my ear. "I don't deserve you," he murmurs so low for a second, I wonder if I heard him right.

You don't deserve something broken. "You deserve the world, Damien." I place a hand over his heart. "You just need to allow your heart to open up to it."

"Rose I—."

"We should go," I interrupt him because of the emotion shining in his eyes. It's the one I've seen in Hannah's when she talks about Hayden. "You should stay here in case my mum notices I haven't left yet and comes out to ask why. I'll bring the car over."

I turn on my heels just as he drops his head. He looks so defeated, so sad that the sight causes a tear to roll down my cheek.

I wait till I'm rounding the corner and in my street before wiping it away.

Little did naive-old-me know, my moment of weakness would come with extreme consequences that would leave me reeling beyond comprehension.

I unlock my car and get in. Not allowing myself the minute I need to gather myself in case my mum sees me, I reverse out of there as fast as I possibly can. Faster than I ever have in my life.

I stop the car beside the sidewalk where Damien stands and he gets in after a moment of hesitation.

I don't blame him. We're basically prolonging our torture by continuing to be around one another. But we don't have a choice.

"You okay?" He asks after buckling himself in.

Keeping my eyes pinned on the road ahead, I mumble, "mmm-hmm."

The silence grows suffocating after a couple of minutes so I put my music on. James Arthur Say You Won't Let Go, immediately blasts through the speaker. I quickly change the song but Impossible by him comes on. I change it again and Sam smith's too good at goodbyes replaces it.

What is going on?!

My fingers become frantic as they move from song to song.

"Hazel." Damien yanks the steering to the side, causing me to tear my eyes off the dashboard, only to panic once more when I realise I was about to hit a car.

"Pull over," he demands, turning off the music, hand still on the steering wheel as if he fears I'm going to crash if he lets go.

My horror-stricken gaze flashes to his worried one. "Sorry."

"Pull over," he repeats, his voice firm but gentle.

Trying and failing to suppress my shaking, I push his hand away. "I'm fine. I was just worrying over whether my mum saw me or not when I went to get the car, that's all."

"I'll drive if you're not up for it." He reaches for his seatbelt.

I place my hand over his, stopping him. "The insurance process will take too much time. Besides, I'm fine now." Lie. I wish.

"I have third party insurance," he informs me.

I unintentionally give his hand a tiny squeeze. "I'm fine, Damien." I'm not a baby that needs tending to every time she gets a fright, and let's face it, my body seizes up at the drop of a pin.

"Yo—." His phone interrupts him. He swiftly cuts the call, barely sparing the screen a glance. "Your hands are shaking."

It's then I register my hand is still atop his and I quickly snatch it away. "I haven't eaten yet that's why." Though my body does shake when I don't eat, it's currently not the case.

"It's a long drive, Rose. Let me drive."

Rose. I hate the way my heart skips a beat. Even now after everything.

Traitor.

"I don't want you to drive my car." I'm just blurting anything at this point.

Regret instantly washes over me, remembering how he crashed his car searching for me. I hope he doesn't presume that's why I said it. It hadn't even occurred to me until now.

I part my lips to somehow clarify when he scoffs with a shake of his head. "I'm a better driver than you. You couldn't even get your car through a back street."

I mock gasp, turning to him a split second before focusing back on the road. "That's not fair. My car is so much bigger than yours."

"It fit though."

"Yeah but—."

"I'm a better driver," he interjects, attempting to finish for me.

Cocky asshole.

I choke out a disbelieving laugh. "I never said that."

"We both know it. You're just too proud to admit it."

"Hold on a minute, this is in no way a fair fight. You've been driving longer than me so you hold the advantage."

He arches a brow in a cavalier way. "So you admit it?"

"No. By default—."

His phone interrupts me, again.

Damien curses in frustration and grabs his phone from his lap.

From my peripheral, I see his features darken as he brings it up to his ear.

"What?" He barks into the phone.

I flinch. It's a three-sixty from the playfulness I was receiving just seconds before. And what do you know, my shaking has even stopped. I smile, realising he purposely taunted me as a form of distraction.

"Cut to the fucking chase." My smile dissipates at the sharpness in his voice.

I wonder who he is talking to. Okay, why do I care? It's none of my business.

"What the fuck do you mean he got it?" There's a pause as he listens to what the person on the other line says. "How much?" Another pause. "No. He doesn't have that kind of money. I made sure of it." His voice is tainted with something dangerous, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Uninvited, a million and one questions run through my mind. The biggest and scariest one being; Made sure of it how?

Feeling him look at me, I quickly mask my curiosity.

"Where is he now... What the fuck do you mean you don't know... leave it I'll find him." Cutting the call, he rests his elbow on the window cill, balls his hand into a fist and rests his forehead on it, closing his eyes, exasperated. 

"Everything okay?" I regret asking him the second it's out of my mouth. Of course, everything is not okay. Nobody screams into a phone for the fun of it.

He barely nods his head yes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I hesitantly ask. No matter everything that unfolded— or should I say closed between us, I want to make sure he's okay.

At least in something that doesn't concern us.

"No," he deadpans.

"Do you—."

"I said no!" He shouts, eyes suddenly open and blazing.