Chapter 300: The Boy He Never Forgot

He laughed before hanging up and I slowly lowered my phone and sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor.

For the first time since Damien had returned to my life, I let myself acknowledge something I’d been avoiding.

I didn’t hate him.

I wanted to.

God, I wanted to.

It would’ve made things so much easier if I could look at him and only feel anger. It would’ve simplified everything. Four years should’ve been long enough to erase whatever was still there between us, and his reappearance should’ve merely been a disruption to the life I’d rebuilt.

But instead, he strolled into that wedding five days ago and managed to make my entire meticulously organized emotional mess fall apart in a matter of minutes.

I flopped back onto my bed and covered my face with both hands. "Holy shit."

Apparently, I was still an idiot...and apparently, Connor was right.

That was even worse.

[Damien Lockwood]

Damien sat out on the porch, a cup of coffee slowly cooling between his hands.

The house had fallen quiet after Oliver retreated to his room, but Damien could still hear slight noises whenever someone crossed the hallway. He had spent most of his adult life in constant noise.

His offices buzzed with activity, his phone hardly ever stopped ringing, and someone was always waiting on a decision, a meeting, a signature, or an answer.

The stillness of this small town felt different.

It was almost unsettling.

The streets beyond the porch were calm, with only an occasional car passing in the distance. The houses were smaller than what Damien was used to in his life ads narrower, the neighborhood radiating a peaceful familiarity born from people knowing each other’s names.

This was a life Oliver had chosen.

Damien glanced at the house, Oliver had changed.

He already knew that.

From afar, he’d picked up bits and pieces because even when he couldn’t be part of Oliver’s life, he hadn’t completely stopped observing from the sidelines.

He knew Oliver had graduated from university, then saved up enough to go right back. He knew about his dad’s recovery. He knew when Oliver became a lecturer, he knew when Oliver moved back here with Frank.

He had tracked the significant milestones.

What he didn’t know were the everyday details, what Oliver had for breakfast, what made him laugh these days, what kind of coffee he liked.

Whether he still listened to the same 80s music, whether he’d learned to sleep better, whether he still thought about Damien at night before going to bed.

Those were the important things, and those were the exact things Damien had missed, he had spent four years knowing about Oliver without actually knowing him.

That gap had never felt as painful as it did now, his fingers tightened around the coffee cup when Connor’s face flashed in his memory.

He had tried not to dwell on it.

He had failed.

The image of Oliver coming home in the same outfit he wore the night before had tightened Damien’s stomach.

He’d tried to keep a neutral expression when he asked about Oliver’s night, but when Oliver casually mentioned Connor and avoided elaborating, Damien felt something dark and possessive stir in his chest at the thought of Oliver fucking someone else.

He had no right to feel jealous, he knew that.

Oliver owed him nothing...not after four years, not after a broken promise.

Not after all the silence Damien had forced on him.

Still, the idea of Oliver spending the night with someone else made his chest ache in a way Damien didn’t know how to handle.

Then there was the necklace, his gaze dropped for a moment.

That necklace had been the one thing keeping him from losing hope entirely.

Oliver still wore it...after four years.

After everything, Damien recalled the moment he noticed it at the university, that tiny flash of silver against Oliver’s skin, and the immediate realization that Oliver had never fully let go.

It didn’t erase the years apart, It didn’t justify them.

But it communicated something that Damien desperately needed to believe...that somewhere beneath the anger, Oliver still loved him.

The porch door swung open, Damien turned.

Frank wheeled himself outside and settled next to him, gazing out at the quiet street with the same calm he’d shown at breakfast. "Nice and peaceful, isn’t it?"

Damien nodded. "It is."

"Much quieter than the city."

"Very."

Frank smiled. "Oliver likes it here."

Damien glanced at the road. "I can see why."

"Hmm, he’s the one who suggested we move back."

Damien looked at him. "Two years ago, right?"

"Yep. He thought I needed a quieter place after everything I’d been through, and honestly, I think he needed it too."

Damien lowered his gaze. "He’s always been like that."

"Like what?"

"More worried about everyone else than himself."

Frank smiled softly. "That sounds like my son."

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet settling around them in a comfortable way that only happens between two people who share a deep love for the same person without needing to fill every silence.

Then Frank studied Damien’s face. "You look troubled, son."

Damien nearly smiled. "I’m fine."

Frank gave him a knowing look. "You still do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Answer questions like you’re in a board meeting."

Damien looked down at his coffee. "Occupational hazard."

"Well, you’re not in a boardroom now."

"No."

"You’re on a porch with an old man whose son is currently hiding in his bedroom likes it’s world war three because you’re here."

Damien actually let out a soft laugh. "That’s one way to put it."

Frank’s expression shifted to something more serious. "You broke your promise to me, you know."

Damien froze and he slowly turned his head, but Frank wasn’t angry. At least he didn’t look like it at all.

"You told me a long time ago you’d never leave Oliver’s side," Frank continued quietly. "And then you did."

Those words sent Damien spiraling back through time, he remembered the hospital.

The smell of antiseptic and the uncomfortable chair beside Frank’s bed.

Oliver standing nearby, both protective and nervous, introducing them with the awkwardness of someone who desperately wanted two crucial parts of his life to get along.

Damien recalled Frank looking at him for a long moment before he casually mentioned how Oliver loved too much, but built a wall around around his heart. Because he knew people who loved too much got hurt just as much too.

He remembered promising he would never hurt Oliver...and then, he had.

Not because he stopped loving him, that was the worst part.

He had left, believing it was the only way to protect the future they could have had.

Four years later, sitting on this quiet porch, Damien wasn’t sure if that decision had safeguarded anything at all and Frank was watching him carefully.

"I think you owe me an explanation for why you left my son behind like that."

Damien lowered his hands, reflecting.

For years, he had become skilled at having answers. He could dissect a failed business deal, navigate a tough negotiation, explain a hostile takeover, sort out a family dispute, or anything that could be boiled down to facts and figures.

But this wasn’t business, this was much more important than that.

This was Oliver

And Frank was asking him the one question he had been dodging for a while.

Damien took a slow breath.

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hey guys, sorry for not updating. i wasnt feeling too well, and i got a university assessment im currently in the middle of right now which just adds to the whole chaos. (i hate being an adult so fucking bad 😖) sorry again...ill try my best to put an ending to this book even if it kills me. see you in the next Chapter💕