Tinsley

Swiping the tears from under my eyes, my mouth opens and closes to say something, anything…but I have no words. I have nothing to offer in this moment because so much of it makes sense yet still hurts. Ten years, I held onto hate, betrayal, and I anger. Ten years, I believed I was the problem. That he didn’t love me. That he never loved me. I spent endless hours, days, weeks, months wondering what I had done wrong, what had happened to make him change so quickly…feeling like I imagined everything I knew to be true, and now, faced with the facts, I’m not sure how to actually feel. I know he’s right, that I wouldn’t have actually left without him making me, but at the same time…

I sniffle, my eyes glued to the blanket as I trace imaginary patterns with the tip of my finger. If he hadn’t broken up with me, I would have been miserable. I wanted to leave this town, and that wasn’t what he wanted—he was honest about that. I wanted to live, follow my dreams, have experiences, and I did all of those things. Plus, he had Sami. How can I be mad at any of that? I wouldn’t trade my life and the path I led for anything…except Logan. I could’ve done without his ass.

“I’m sorry, Tin.” His voice draws my attention back to him. “For every single ounce of pain I caused…I’m truly sorry. Please forgive me.” He lowers his head, his eyes focused on the blanket, but I’ve already forgiven him. I should have known better. Damien has never been a mean or hurtful person. I should have been smart enough to realize there was something more to our break up. He’s the type who puts others before himself, always has. Hell, he gave up what was left of his childhood to take care of his little sister.

“I do forgive you.” I place my hand on his cheek and his eyes lift to mine, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m still pissed at how you went about it,” I say, trying to sound stern, but he knows better and chuckles.

“I have never, not even for a second, stopped loving you. I thought maybe I had gotten over you, but the second I laid eyes on you, I knew better,” he tells me, the love shining in his eyes the same way it used to. I never doubted his feelings for me when we were together. There was no way I could. Not only did he always tell me how much he loved me, but he showed me. Butterflies wreak havoc on my insides. My heart screams, “I feel the same,” while my head shouts for me to pump the brakes. For once, I don’t think. I just let my heart find the words.

“I never stopped loving you either. Even when I was married to Logan, I wished it was you,” I confess. He inches closer, until our knees are touching, and frames my face in his hands, his eyes boring into mine.

“I need to kiss you,” he says, his voice pleading.

Again, I don’t think. I throw caution to the wind and allow my body to control what happens next. His lips find mine and my eyes flutter closed. At first, his touch is soft, gentle, then I open my mouth, giving him access, and a low groan escapes him as our kiss turns rough and needy. I match his fervor with my own, our tongues dueling for dominance while our hands feel like they are everywhere at once. He tastes like peppermint and something that’s all Damien, and the familiarity of it brings back flashes of memories—of every emotion I ever felt while in his arms, his lips on mine, our passion unfurling. My head spins and a lightheadedness takes over from the emotional accost. A smile teases my lips as I pull back, needing to slow down. The possibility of this getting out of control too fast is all too real, and that can’t happen.

My breaths come in pants as I try to gain my composure enough to speak. I study his face for a moment, watching his eyes as they watch me. The desire shining so bright in his gaze makes me squirm, but I need him to understand. “I need to take this slow. I’ve been with two men in my life, and they both hurt me. It’s going to take a little time to build up my trust again.” He nods as he runs his hand down my cheek.

“I completely understand. We will go as slow as you need. I’m not going anywhere.” The desire turns to something much gentler, something that looks more like adoration than anything else. I nuzzle against his palm as it coasts over my cheek, and he smiles before drawing his hand back and moving his attention to the picnic basket.

“Hungry?” he asks, beaming. His face is so expressive, and his eyes have always portrayed everything he’s feeling. It’s just a thing with him, one he’d never been able to hide…until the day he ended it with me.

A small frown tilts the corners of my lips down, but I quickly push the thought away and refocus on his question. I can over think everything later, though I find that I really don’t want to. I just want him, and to be happy…I don’t want to remain stuck on things I can’t change or control.

“Starving,” I reply, and my stomach confirms with a very loud growl, causing both of us to break out in laughter. Gripping a fire lighter in his hand, Damien sets the charcoal ablaze, allowing it to heat up. “So, what’s on the menu?” I ask, attempting to peek around him to see inside the basket. He smiles and rubs his hands together.

“I pulled out all the stops. We have hot dogs for the main course, and raspberry cheesecake for dessert,” he laughs, giving me a coy smile. I smile right back, shaking my head. When we were in high school, we’d come out here to grill hot dogs and he would always have my favorite dessert: raspberry cheesecake. To most people, it wouldn’t seem like much, but to me, it means everything.

“I can’t believe all the things you remember,” I tell him, and I swear I see a blush creep onto his cheeks.

“I remember everything about you,” he states, diverting his eyes back to the grill.

“Like what?” I can’t help but ask.

“Let’s see.” He rubs his chin, as if he’s thinking. “Your favorite color is purple. Favorite snack is Goldfish crackers. Whoppers are your favorite candy. Breaking Benjamin is your favorite band.”

“Pretty impressive,” I tell him, and it is. Logan didn’t know—or should I say, didn’t care to know any of that. When I would ask him to pick me up some candy, he’d bring me Gummie Bears. I hate Gummie Bears. Opening the cooler, Damien pulls out a pack of hot dogs, opens it, and places four on the grill. “Well, you know all my favorites, but how about the things I don’t like?”

“Easy. You hate the color orange. You can’t stand rap music. You also hate Gummie Bears and little green peas. How’s that?” he asks, his tone a little cocky.

“Pretty good. You get an A,” I joke.

We sit in a comfortable silence, me sipping my wine while I watch him set everything out for our hot dogs. He hasn’t seemed to age much in ten years. His hair is cut shorter than it used to be, but I like it better this way. He has more facial hair than before, but it’s pretty damn sexy. And his build? Holy hot bod, Batman.

“See something you like?” he asks, a grin on his face, and heat floods my cheeks. I gape for some sort of response, though I can’t deny I just got caught checking him out, but he hands me a plate, distracting my attention to the two hotdogs covered in mustard and ketchup—something else he remembered. Taking the plate, I bite into a hot dog, hoping he lets my gawking go.

He leans back against the cooler, crossing his ankles in front of him, and I groan internally at the cocky grin on his face. He isn’t going to forget that any time soon.

“It’s okay if you were checking me out. I’ve been checking you out all evening,” he chuckles, and the heat returns to my cheeks.

Pulling a chunk of my bun off, I throw it at him and howl in laughter when the bread bounces off his forehead. His eyes widen, and I slap my hand over my mouth in a lame attempt to stifle my laughter. A wry smile plays on his lips as he pulls a piece of his bun off and tosses it at me. It hits my cheek and sits there. Reaching up, I pull it away from my skin, and Damien busts out in a full-on belly laugh. Within seconds, tears are falling from his eyes. He points to my face with one hand while clutching his stomach with the other, and I glare at him, trying to figure out what’s so damn funny.

When Damien finally gains control of his laughter, he comes over and scoots next to me, his body leaning into mine. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest as his warm breath coasts across my exposed skin, causing goosebumps to break out all over my body. His lips brush against my ear, and a shiver runs up my spine.

“You have a little something right here,” he whispers as he wipes his finger across my cheek. Holding his finger up in front of me, he shows me a glob of ketchup, that cocky grin back on his face. I narrow my eyes at him, for not only laughing at ketchup he put on my face, but for making me all shivery by his proximity only to wipe said ketchup off my cheek. I sock him in the shoulder, pursing my lips in a tease and he throws his head back and laughs. While he’s not looking, I grab the ketchup bottle, flip the top open, and bring the bottle up, aiming it at Damien. When his amusement settles, I squeeze the bottle and paint his face with ketchup. His hands move, but I’m not quick enough to catch what he’s doing before blobs of mustard coat my face.

“Oh. My. God!” I yell, blasting him with more ketchup, only to get more mustard in return. I scramble away from him, my attack forgotten as the bottle drops from my fingers in my haste to escape. Flipping over, his laughter follows me as more of the sticky condiment drips onto my back.

“Okay. Okay. I give,” I pant out, my sides aching from laughing so hard.

“That was fun, but a little messy,” Damien says, looking between the two of us. “You are not getting into my baby with ketchup and mustard all over you.” He shoots me a mischievous grin.

“What do you propose? Are we supposed to walk home?” I question with a raise of my brow. It’s not like there’s a shower and a change of clothes. I glance over the blanket, wondering if we can lay it down on the seats, but it’s just as covered as we are. Looking back at him, he smiles, cocking his head toward the lake. I start shaking my head. “Oh no. I am not going in there.”

“Either we clean off or we walk,” he states as he stands and begins taking off his shoes. “Come on, Tin, we used to skinny dip all the time. I won’t peek.”