Chapter 6
Alicia
I should’ve told him to leave. The second I saw him sitting there on my brother’s couch, mug in hand like he belonged, hoodie hanging off his too-broad shoulders like it was casual, I should’ve said, get out. But I didn’t. Instead, I stood there, damp hair dripping onto my shirt, arms crossed like I could protect myself with posture alone. Damon Strathmore. Of all people. The man who’d made half the country fall in love with his highlight reels… and the man who’d been under my skin since the day he was brought into my ER with that cocky smile and a bruised rib.
I hated that my pulse skipped when he looked at me. I hated that I remembered his laugh, the stupid way he’d made even pain sound like a joke. I hated that a part of me, some reckless, illogical part—was glad to see him again.
So I did what I always do when I feel too much. I froze him out.
“Talk,” I’d told him, like he was a patient I was triaging instead of a man who made me forget my own rules.
And then he did. He talked. Honestly. No swagger, no mask. Just Damon. And damn it if I didn’t feel something shift inside me when he said he hadn’t stopped thinking about me.
I wanted to believe him. That was the problem. I wanted to believe him so badly it scared me. But then he asked me out. And instead of laughing in his face, I almost said yes. Almost. Which, for me, was more dangerous than any rejection could ever be.
I caught myself staring at him too long, caught the hope flickering in his eyes when I whispered, “And yet.” It would’ve been so easy to step forward, to give in.
That was when Evan’s voice cut through like a bucket of ice water: “No kissing while I’m in the house!”
I should’ve been grateful. Instead, I wanted to throttle my brother for having the worst timing in the universe.
Damon shot Evan a glare, and I caught myself smiling. Smiling. Like I wasn’t supposed to be furious at him. Like I wasn’t supposed to be reminding myself of every reason he was wrong for me. I retreated, mumbling something about needing tea, and escaped into the kitchen before I drowned in his presence.
But he followed. Of course he followed. “Hey,” he said softly, leaning against the counter while I filled the kettle. “I meant what I said.”
I busied myself with mugs. “You say a lot of things.”
“This isn’t a line, Alicia.”
“And how am I supposed to know that?”
He hesitated, and for once, Damon Strathmore looked unsure. “Because… I’ve never wanted to sit on a couch for an hour waiting for someone to yell at me before.”
I bit back a laugh. He was impossible. Before I could answer, my phone buzzed on the counter. A text from Sabrina lit up the screen. My chest tightened.
"He’ll never change. You deserve to know that."
I froze. Damon’s eyes flicked to the screen before I could flip it over. His jaw tightened.
Of course. The ghost of his “very bad habit” wasn’t done haunting me.
“Don’t,” he said, voice low. “Don’t let her get in your head.”
“She has a point.”
“She has an agenda,” he snapped, more sharply than I expected. “One that doesn’t involve you being happy.”
I opened my mouth to argue but before I could, Evan barged in again, crunching cereal like a walking interruption.
“Everything good in here?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“Fine,” I said quickly. Too quickly.
But Damon was still watching me, like he could see every crack in the wall I was trying to hold up.
And the truth was, he could. That terrified me most of all.
Because if Damon Strathmore wanted to prove me wrong, if he actually meant it this time I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop him. And maybe… maybe I didn’t want to. But then again… Sabrina’s text sat in the back of my mind like a warning flare.
So I stood taller, forced my voice steady, and said, “You’ll have to do better than words, Strathmore.”
He smiled then. Slow. Dangerous. Certain. “Challenge accepted.”
And I hated that my heart skipped again.
I didn’t sleep that night. Not really.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. Damon, leaning against my brother’s counter like he had all the time in the world, like he belonged in that kitchen, like he wasn’t a danger sign wrapped in a six-foot frame with broad shoulders and a reckless smile. And worse than the image was the memory of how my heart had betrayed me skipping like it was rooting for him.
I rolled onto my side, staring at the wall. Evan’s snoring drifted faintly down the hall, a sound I’d once found annoying but now welcomed. It grounded me. Reminded me I was here, in my brother’s house, safe. Not out in the storm Damon Strathmore.
"He’ll say whatever you want to hear. That’s what he does."
I stared at it for a long time before locking the screen. Sabrina didn’t know me. She didn’t know my life. She only knew Damon. And if anyone knew how dangerous he could be, it was her. That should’ve been enough reason to walk away.
But I remembered the look in his eyes when he told me I wasn’t a game. There’d been no cockiness in that moment. No bravado. Just raw honesty. And honesty was a weapon I didn’t know how to fight.
I pressed my palms into my eyes, groaning. “Get out of my head,” I muttered.
But he didn’t, he stood there, defiantly as he watched. I rolled over on my bed again but the more i tried to get him out of my head, the more the image of him got worse. At that moment, i had a sinking feeling that Damon was here to stay and for good.
