Chapter 30

Emjay

"Is this what love feels like?" ~ Emjay

It's late. The camp is quiet, the only sounds— the crackling of the dying fire and the distant rustle of leaves in the wind. Everyone else is asleep, their bodies splayed out in various states of exhaustion. Despite the long days and the grueling journey, I'm not tired. My mind is too restless. Thoughts churn in a ceaseless whirlpool of memories and questions.

"How did you know my poppa's name?" I ask Damian, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between us.

"Is Ioannis your poppa?" he responds, his gaze steady and unwavering.

I nod, feeling a plethora of emotions at the mention of the man who'd shaped so much of my early life.

"Willow told me his name. Why poppa and not patér?" he questions.

I shrug, struggling to articulate the complex web of feelings associated with the terms. "I never heard the word patér until I met you. There's so much love behind the word. I'm glad poppa never held that title." The word feels foreign on my tongue, a sentiment I've never associated with the man who raised me.

"And momma?" Damian adds, his attitude gentle but probing.

"Again, mitéra is a precious sentiment I've never experienced," I admit, hanging my head in shame. "I smiled the day Poppa beat Momma to death. I even wished I'd swung the final blow." The confession hangs in the air like a dark cloud that had been festering in my soul for years.

Damian places his fingers under my chin, lifting my head until our eyes meet. "It would be a lie to say my feelings don't mirror yours," he explains. His deep timbre soothes my raw emotions like a balm.

My body sags with relief. The burden of my dark secret eases with his understanding. I've dreaded this confession more than any of the others, fearing that it would drive a wedge between us.

"I still hate her," I continue, the words tumbling out of me in a rush. "I haven't forgiven her." The bitterness in my words surprises even me. The depth of my unresolved anger bubbling to the surface.

Damian's look softens with empathy, his own pain reflecting in their depths. "Forgiveness is not something you owe anyone, Emjay. It's a gift you give yourself when you're ready. And it's okay if you're not there yet," he assures me, his tone filled with a gentle promise.

"I don't know if I'll ever be ready," I admit with the weight of my past pressing down on me.

"Then take your time," he replies, his fingers still resting lightly under my chin. "Healing isn't a race. It's a journey. And I'm here with you every step of the way."

The fire crackles, sending sparks into the night sky. I look at Damian, seeing not just a man but a kindred spirit who understands my pain in a way few others ever could. His presence is a soothing promise that I'm not alone.

"I'm glad you're here," I say, barely above a whisper.

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips. "Me too."

We sit in silence for a while longer; the night wrapping around us like a comforting blanket.

Before the night ends, I slip into Damian's sleeping bag for the first time. The fabric is warm from his body heat. He pulls me in closer, and I can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. His muscular arms create a cocoon of warmth and safety that I've never known. The solace is foreign, but welcoming.

In this intimate space, everything feels calm, almost peaceful.

Damian's breath warms my neck. His heartbeat is strong and steady, as if sending the silent promise: you are safe here. His scent mingles with the cool mountain air, creating a sense of home I never thought I'd find.

I could get used to this. The thought is both thrilling and terrifying. It's been so long since I've allowed myself to trust, to let someone in. The walls I've built around my heart have kept me safe, but they've also kept me isolated—alone. In Damian's arms, those walls feel unnecessary, like a relic of a past I'm finally ready to leave behind.

As I lie here with my body pressed against his, I feel a sense of belonging that I've never experienced. It's more than just physical comfort. It's an emotional connection. A bond that goes beyond words. I can feel his strength, not just in his muscles but in his spirit, and it gives me faith.

Damian shifts slightly, his hand moving to rest on my back. His fingers trace gentle patterns on my skin. It's a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes. He's here, and he's not going anywhere. The thought fills me with a warmth that spreads from my chest to the tips of my fingers and toes.

I close my lids, letting myself relax in his embrace. The tension that I've carried for so long melts away, replaced by a sense of peace that I've rarely known. The future is uncertain, and there are still many battles to be fought, but for now, at this moment, I am content.

His breathing deepens, and I can tell he's drifting off to sleep. I snuggle closer, feeling his heartbeat against my cheek. There's a comfort in his presence—a feeling that everything might just be okay.

The night stretches on, and my eyelids grow heavy. For the first time in forever, I'm not afraid of what dreams might come. With Damian beside me, the nightmares that once plagued my sleep seem distant, their power diminished by the strength of his embrace.

A smile tugs at the corners of mouth. I could get used to this, I think again. It's a thought filled with expectations and possibilities. A glimmer of the life I've always wanted but never dared dream of. In Damian's arms, I feel a promise of a future where I am loved, valued, and most importantly not alone.

As sleep finally claims me, I hold on to that promise, letting it carry me into the realm of dreams. For the first time in a long time, I feel truly at peace, cradled in the warmth of Damian's embrace.