Four Walls (Book One) ✔️

Chapter Thirty-One

"So you have a grandmother?" Damian stabs his apple pie with a fork, a bewildered expression on his face. "Where has she been all this time?"

"Beats me," I say with a shrug. "You want coffee with that?"

"Sure, but first...." He glances around the room, as if to make sure no curious ears are listening in. "I want to talk to you about something."

His serious guise leads me to believe we should postpone this conversation until my shift is over. I glance at the clock—only fifteen minutes left—and ask him to stick around until the diner closes.

Ever since my fainting spell, I haven't been working as many hours. My grandma—god, it still feels weird to say that—called Gabrielle and requested that my shifts be cut. Since I'm only sixteen, she couldn't refuse.

As for Castelul, Taisley spoke to her father and suggested that I only work Friday and Saturday evenings. He agreed, of course. When it comes to his precious daughter, he can't say no.

At first, I was infuriated with Margo and Taisley, but I realize now how badly I needed the rest. I was deteriorating. I was burning myself out, as Jessica said. Half the reason I was overworking myself was to escape Hank's wrath, but with Margo around, he isn't as much of an issue. He's still Hank, but his mother seems to have a calming effect on him.

Perhaps "calming" isn't the right word. He doesn't seem at ease; he just seems afraid.

Good.

I finish wiping down the tables, hang up my apron, and then say goodbye to Gabby. Outside, I find Damian, whose aquamarine eyes are clouded with worry. I hook my arm though his as we venture down the familiar streets of our dreary hometown.

"So what's going on with you?" I ask.

"I'm just... confused," he begins. "I mean, you know about my... special ability. I've been dealing with that since I was a kid. I was used to it. I thought I had it under control. Lately, though...." He trails off, his face a portrait of distress. "Lately, things are... changing. And it's kinda freaking me out."

Both my concern and my curiosity are piqued. "Damian," I whisper, "what do you mean by 'changing'?"

"The whole teleportation thing is the same," he clarifies, "but now there's... something else."

This doesn't surprise me. Ada could communicate with the dead. Taisley practices witchcraft. I'm a magnet for all things weird and unexplained.

"Tell me," I instruct him. "What is it?"

"Okay, so at the risk of oversharing, Jessi and I have been, uh, getting a bit more physical in our relationship," he says. "Things were going well. Really well, actually. The other night, though, in the heat of the moment, I picked her up like she weighed nothing and carried her to her bed."

"She's not a large girl. Plus, you've been working out lately. Maybe you just underestimated your own strength?"

"Oh, I definitely did. Where my hands were, right on her lower back, I left bruises." He stops at a wooden bench, takes a seat, and buries his face in his hands. "There's ten little bruises in the shape of fucking fingers on my girlfriend's back, Layla. I did that. I... I hurt her."

"Not the cross the proverbial friendship line, but sometimes that happens during... such encounters," I say, blushing a shade of red. Damian and I talk about a lot of things. Sex isn't one of them.

"It wasn't like that. She was wincing after. She tried to play it off like she was fine, but I could tell she was in pain."

"It was an accident. You didn't mean to hurt her. She must know that."