One
My heart flipped at the sight of Damien's car pulling up the driveway.
I jumped off the couch, yanking off my sweatshirt as I raced upstairs.
This was my chance.
I nearly tripped as I flung open my closet, pulling out a red robe and the matching lingerie my mom had given me for my birthday. Spritzing perfume along my collarbone, I smiled, ensuring everything was perfect.
Damien, my dad's best friend, knew my parents and brother had left that morning for their yearly vacation. I hadn’t gone with them because I had a plan.
One that involved showing him how much he made me thirst for him. I'd been nursing my fantasies since last Christmas. It was time to make them a reality.
But seeing Damien here, knowing I was alone, felt like an answered prayer.
Maybe he finally got the signal.
The doorbell rang. My pulse spiked.
I glided downstairs, deliberately swaying my hips. The mansion was silent—the cook, gardener, and chauffeur tucked away in their quarters.
I opened the door and leaned against the frame, flashing him a playful wink.
Damien’s gaze flicked over my outfit, lasting just long enough to send a thrill down my spine, but instead of approval, I saw a rigidness.
That wasn't the reaction I expected.
Shame lodged in my throat. My cheeks flushed hot. It kind of felt like I had been slapped.
Of course, he had access to many more beautiful and mature women within his age bracket. Still, that didn't give him the right to ignore me.
"If my presence irritates you, why didn't you just call?" I said flatly, picking up the last shreds of my dignity.
He didn't speak at first. He seemed to be fighting against his emotions. Then he cleared his throat.
"There's been an accident, Linda."
I blinked. The air in my lungs seemed to thin. My first suspect was Mimi, his stepdaughter and my best friend.
"Oh no, Mimi?" I asked, already picturing my best friend in a hospital bed.
He shook his head. His eyes darkened, filled with something worse than sympathy.
"Your parents. Caleb." His voice cracked. "Their car—there was a crash."
A suffocating horror tightened around my chest. I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head.
"That's not funny."
His eyes were filled with pain. "I'm sorry. They didn’t make it to the airport. The accident was bad... we lost them."
My body rejected his words as I stumbled backward.
I bolted inside. My phone. I needed to hear their voices. I needed proof that this was a lie.
Damien followed close behind as I found it carelessly shoved it onto the couch. My hands shook so badly that I almost dropped it. I dialed my mom.
Ringing. Then voicemail.
Again.
“Linda—” Damien’s voice was softer now, careful.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think.
Then he closed the space between us.
His solid arms wrapped around me. "I'm sorry," he whispered against my hair.
And just like that, the world crashed down.
_____________
Eight days later
I stood, arms crossed and dry-eyed, watching my dad’s coffin lowered into the grave.
Wailing surrounded me. My aunts sobbed loudly, and mourners clutched their chests. Everyone was falling apart. My face remained blank, as if my emotions had been buried alongside my family.
"At least fake a sniffle, girl," my aunt muttered harshly. "It's disrespectful to stand there like a flagpole."
Damien came to my rescue and stood beside me. "She doesn’t owe anyone a performance," he said coldly.
He was grieving, too. His eyes rimmed red.
Even a six-foot wall of muscle was mourning properly while I, the orphan, stood there, dry-eyed.
"We grieve differently," he murmured. "Don't let anyone guilt trip you.”
I wanted to believe him. But I couldn't. My aunt was right. I should mourn properly. A part of me wished I had gone on the Stonehaven trip and died in the crash with my family rather than endure this emptiness.
My mind wandered to Caleb, my eight-year-old brother, imagining him tugging at my sleeve, whispering some inappropriate joke about how boring funerals were.
Damien gave me a look that silently asked, Are you okay?
I didn’t answer. Instead, I turned away, gaze locking onto the freshly turned earth. The scent of damp soil filled my nose, grounding me in a reality I didn’t want to accept.
This didn’t feel real. It looked like a terrible nightmare, where you wake up drenched in sweat, relieved that it was all just a dream.
Except this wasn’t a dream. There was no waking up from this.
The grave stared back at me. A finality I wasn’t ready for.
Mourners drifted toward the reception tent. My mom had been an orphan, and my dad didn’t have a large family. My grandfather hadn’t been told about my dad’s death yet. At ninety and with a weak heart, the news would kill him. My dad had built the country's largest oil and gas exploration company. His funeral was kept quiet, but his closest allies were here
My uncle, Travis, stepped forward, clearing his throat as if preparing for a business presentation instead of burying his brother.
Damien kept watching Travis with a cold look.
I wondered why.
The condolences poured in, but I didn't know how to respond.
Needing a break from the crowd, I headed inside the mansion. Familiar scents hit me: my little brother’s ever-present cereal smell, my mom’s rose perfume, my dad’s cigar.
I took a deep inhale and made my way upstairs. Once the will was settled, I’d probably rent out the house. It was too big for me anyway. I'd live on campus, away from everything that reminded me of them.
I reached the second floor, heading toward my room.
A soft moan floated through the air.
I stiffened.
Disgust coiled in my stomach. Who, in their right mind, would be making out in a house filled with mourners?
My feet moved before my brain did, storming toward the movie room.
When I saw Damien with my cousin, Erica, my stomach twisted into a violent knot.
Damien didn’t pull away or shove her off. His hand was in her hair, his lips moving against hers like he wanted this.
Erica had read my diary. She knew about my crush on Damien. And yet she did this.
When Damien noticed my presence, his face looked utterly blank. He acted like kissing Erica was another task to check off his list.
My heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
