Bane of My Existence

Chapter 19

Damon let out a long breath, the only sound in the air was the butter sizzling on the cast iron. He kept his gaze on the gas stove, knuckles white.

She didn't push him. Clearly this was a touchy subject for more than Dayton.

"I used to have three brothers," he confessed quietly. "We don't like to talk about it. Dayton was there when Carter. . ." He let the sentense hang in the air like a lead weight. His face twisted into a visage of pain and hate. Regret. "He hasn't been the same since. None of us have, really."

"I'm sorry." She wanted to know more about him, his family, but she wished it didn't hurt him.

He shrugged, turning to her with a lopsided smile. "It's not your fault. How can it be? You weren't even born yet. Your grandparents probably hadn't even hit puberty."

She blinked, let that sink in, then blinked again. "I'm sorry, how old are you?" She never thought to ask. He looked maybe five years older than her.

"I'm a hundred and forty-three. Still want to go out with me?"

She laughed. There was nothing else to do. Of all the things she had learned, had seen, these past few days, this was what got her, what had her laughing until her stomach hurt. Of all the things, this was the hardest for her to grasp.

"Okay, you're laughing way too much. Try this for me, will you?" Damon pulled out a tray of mini quiches from the fridge and stuffed one in her mouth.

Her laughter turned into a deep moan. "This is delicious!" She covered her mouth as she mumbled around it. "Did you make these?" She slowly reached for another quiche, half expecting him to swat her like her mother did with a scolding remark about her weight.

He slid the tray closer to her. "If you want to fill up on quiches before you taste what else I have in store for you, go ahead. Fill up."

Hmm. He drove a hard bargain.

She settled with one more quiche. "Seriously, these are amazing. I would know. My mom has won competitions making quiches--and yours are better."

He flashed a proud smile. "If you love these, you would have loved my mom's. It's her recipe, but I can never quite get the same consistency as her. She would have made endless batches just for you." His smiled faltered. "She loved baking for us. Eating her treats was the only time my brothers and I weren't bickering or causing mischief for her."

"She sounds like a good mom." She pictured his brothers sitting around the table, sharing a quiche--or maybe, considering how much Damon ate, having an entire quiche to themselves--while she looked on them from the kitchen with a smile. Kinsey had always wished for a family like that.

Damon's hand slipped to her thigh, caressing the top roughly but tenderly; he seemed to be trying to console her more than himself. "Don't be sad. I don't mind talking about her with you. She was an amazing mom. She would have loved you."

"Do you think?" She wished she could say the same about her own mother. The look of disgust she gave him at the gala still haunted her.

He nodded. "Oh, yes." He chuckled when a thought crossed his mind. "She told me once that if I found a nice girl who can tolerate me and my wolf, I should never let her go."

She smiled at that. She sounded like a wise woman, who loved her boys very much. It was a crime that she had been taken away from them.

"You mentioned you lost your parents. Can I ask . .?"

"It's not a nice story," he warned softly, using the same words she had used when he asked about her past.

She grazed her fingers over the top of his hand. "Hey, you know my sad story. The least you can do is tell me some of yours."