More Than a Hotline Fling

-14-

"Damian..." While my tone stayed light, I worried we headed into another 'you're better off without me' conversation. Many, many times in the beginning of our relationship and whenever Damian's job exposed its rougher sides, he reverted back to self-sabotaging thoughts.

The shift of his feelings from love to self-preservation had definite triggers, women and children victims in particular, which comprised most of his cases. Thankfully, he also had solid and dependable counseling support a phone call away, which he used when needed.

My tears tipped over, tickling hot down my cheeks with how much love poured out of his mouth, "June, for once in my life, I'm happy. I'm so fucking happy that it feels unreal. Before I met you, I couldn't ever imagine being in our relationship. Now, with what we have, there's absolutely nothing about us that I'd change."

His words, and more important the ones he didn't say, settled inside me. The lightness and warmth his love filled me sank, weighed down with uncertainty.

In a low, steady voice, I filled in the missing 'but,' "You don't want to get married or have kids someday."

"I... can't see it right now," Damian's heavy tone implied he feared disappointing me. "I'm sorry, I just..."

"Don't be sorry for how you feel at this moment." Harder beats in his heart pulsed through his shirt and encouraged my unreasonable questioning, "What will you want in the future, Damian?"

That wasn't fair. I shouldn't expect him to be able to answer that.

Given that I was an only child who lost both parents at sixteen, the fact I wanted a family was no secret. I cooed and waved at babies so much that Damian probably thought I'd steal one. I rubbed Celia's belly like a good luck Buddha. My ovaries swooned from thinking about a miniature Damian, with the dark, tousled hair, golden-hazel eyes, and a fierce, tenacious streak.

Fuck, I'm probably substituting kids with multi-legged, or zero-legged, fur, feather, and scale-babies right now.

Hesitation threaded into Damian's deep voice but his eyes stayed glued to mine. "I want what we have. Open talking, no doubts of how we feel. Mind and dick-blowing sex. You and me, these crazy feelings that fill me up with purpose and scare the shit out of me."

Aww, he had me at dick-blowing.

My heart somersaulted at those shared words. His job had risks, risks that scared me but I believed in him. I trusted him to handle what his job threw at him because he demonstrated how capably he managed his stress. With zero doubt in my mind, Damian did everything within his control that he returned home from that job.

It's the uncontrollable that haunts him.

"First, I am happy, Damian." My hands patted his chest. "So, for now, I'm not going anywhere."

"For now," he echoed, sadness rounding his eyes. "And if you change your mind?"

With no hesitation, I offered the blunt, harsh truth, "Then I will tell you."

He nodded stiffly, flickers of appreciation in his eyes, so I patted his chest again. "Look, I still have three months left of vet tech school. I'm not thinking about a damn thing else until I finish and get a real, adult job that for once in my life has steady dental benefits," I started in the pragmatic approach. "But every fucking cell in my body is happy. I'm happy with you."

When his shoulders and jaw relaxed, I reached down, patted the crotch of his pants, and teased, "Don't make me list all your good qualities again because your ego still hasn't gone down from last time."

Damian's sharp exhale out his nose proved me right. He had a lot to boast about, particularly what swelled up under my grazed fingers, but his blunt honesty was my favorite quality.