Aftermath

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and Naomi was starting to get sick and tired of stopping by the hospital every three business days.

Damon guided her down to a private ward, his hands gentle and reassuring. She glanced up at him, tears almost welling up in her eyes.

He cared. He always had and she had him on her side even when things got dangerous.

Naomi sat on the edge of the examination bed, feet dangling just above the tiled floor, a thin blanket draped over her shoulders.

The nurse had insisted, even after Naomi said -three times- that she was fine. But Damon wanted to make sure. He believed she was doing okay but he wanted to be certain.

Damon stood near the door, arms crossed, his body rigid in a way she recognized all too well. This was the version of him the world rarely saw, the man who looked calm until you noticed how tight his jaw was clenched.

“You can sit,” Naomi said softly.

He didn’t answer right away.

Only when the nurse finished checking her wrists and murmured, “No fractures, just bruising. I’ll let the doctor know,” did Damon finally move.

He crossed the room and sat beside her, close enough that his thigh pressed into hers, close enough that she could feel the steady heat of him grounding her.

“I should have known,” he said quietly.

Naomi cupped his face, eyes staring into his. “No. No this isn’t your fault.” She whispered. “I thought I could handle it,” she continued. “I needed closure. I didn’t think… I never thought she would..” Her voice broke, and she pressed her lips together, shaking her head.

Damon reached for her hands slowly, as if afraid she might pull away. When she didn’t, he intertwined their fingers.

“I know. She was your friend and you have every right to trust her.”

“I was careless. I saw something about her and I should have told you. It's just that i wasn't sure what to believe and I just..” Naomi let out a weak, humorless laugh. “You realize that’s ironic, right? I hold you for not telling me anything and i did the exact same thing”

Damon chuckled. “Yeah. But I understand. I do. And I'm not mad.”

She turned to look at him then. The dark circles under his eyes, the faint tremor in his hand as he held hers.

“You're not?” she said gently.

Damon kissed her hand. “I'm not. Staying mad at you is almost impossible.”

Naomi chuckled. “You're not serious.”

“I am.” Damon said. He cupped her cheek , planting a gentle kiss on her lips. “I really am.”

The door opened again, and the doctor stepped in with a clipboard, breaking the moment. After a brief assessment; no internal injuries or trauma, they were cleared to leave, with instructions Naomi barely registered.

By the time they were back in the car, exhaustion hit her all at once.

She leaned her head against the window, watching the city blur past. Damon drove one-handed, the other firmly clasped around hers, thumb rubbing slow circles into her skin like he was afraid she might vanish if he stopped touching her.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, eyes fixed on the road.

“Yeah.” she admitted.

He took a breath. “I keep thinking..what if I hadn’t answered the call fast enough? What if I hadn’t recognized her voice?”

Naomi squeezed his hand. “But you did.”

“For once,” he said, voice rough, “I was on time.”

He had a lot to make up for and he knew it. He wasn't going to pretend he was innocent and he would do everything to make up for the times he was absent.

The house was quiet when they arrived, staff discreetly absent as if they’d been instructed to disappear. Damon didn’t ask. Patrick understood these things without words.

He guided Naomi upstairs, helped her change into soft clothes, never once rushing her. When she sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly unsure of herself, Damon knelt in front of her and removed her shoes.

“You don’t have to sleep alone tonight,” he said.

Naomi’s chest tightened. “I don’t want to,” she replied honestly.

She might be physically okay but she wanted her man next to her tonight. She didn't want to be alone tonight, not at all.

He exhaled, a sound that felt like relief.

They lay side by side. Damon turned toward her, propped on one elbow, studying her face like he was memorizing it all over again. She looked exhausted and it made his heart ache painfully.

“I should have known. About Soonie. I should have known but I chose to ignore it.”

Damon’s fingers brushed a curl away from her face. “You are not responsible for other people’s obsessions.”

She met his eyes. “But I am responsible for choosing who I trust.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “And choosing who you come home to.”

Her lips curved slightly. “Are you talking about yourself, Mr Damon Sinclair?”

Damon shrugged. “Yes. I am.”

“And I should start listening when you insist on picking me up from places?”

“I’m saying,” he murmured, leaning closer, “that letting me worry is part of being married to me.”

She smiled properly this time. “Noted.”

He smiled, leaned in and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I'm just glad you're safe. And you're here. With me.”

“Naomi?” he whispered after a moment.

“Yes.”

“If something happens again..anything…promise me you’ll tell me everything.”

She nodded. “I promise.”

He studied her, then nodded.

His eyes softened in a way that made her chest ache.

Naomi inched closer, her head resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. Damon wrapped an arm around her, holding her like the world might try to take her again if he loosened his grip.

For the first time since the chaos began, she slept.