*Isabella's POV*
I was still a mess, my face red and my eyes sore from crying, but for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I had to run away from the mess. I felt... safe.
"Can I ask you something?" I asked, my voice still a little shaky.
"Of course," he said, his hand still making those slow, calming circles on my back.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "Did you have depression?" The question felt huge, intrusive, but it had been buzzing in my brain.
"I did," he said. No hesitation. No shame. Just a simple, quiet admission.
"I'm sorry if I'm too nosy," I rushed out, "but you said I was the reason you wanted to leave your bed so I assumed and..." I was rambling, trying to explain my leap in logic.
"That's not necessarily a sign of depression," he said gently, cutting me off.
"I don't know," I insisted, pulling back slightly so I could look at him. "But I do know you, and I know how you don't go out, you have no friends, no hobbies. You're basically alone and miserable all the time." I said it bluntly, and he chuckled, a low, warm sound that made my stomach flutter.
"You're lucky you're gorgeous," he said, a smirk playing on his lips, "although profoundly stereotypical, you're right."
I rolled my eyes, but a small smile escaped me. "Did you get therapy?" I asked nervously.
"I did. I'm better now," he said.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, my voice soft.
He sighed, a heavy sound that seemed to carry the weight of years. "I was afraid, maybe. If you hadn't brought it up, I don't think I would have told you." He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"I don't want you to think this has anything to do with my feelings for you. Yes, you were a shining light, and your presence motivated me to keep going in some of my dark days, but I didn't fall in love with you because of that. I fell in love with you because you're amazing. You're real. Smart, fierce, witty, not afraid to speak your mind."
My heart hammered against my ribs. He saw me. He actually fucking saw me.
"Well, except for some occasions when we were alone and you turned soft for some reason," he teased, trying to lighten the intense, wonderful, terrifying moment.
"Okay, you can make fun of me," I said, my eyes crinkling.
"'Can you blame me," I continued, a playful glint in my eye. "I wanted to climb my boss like a mountain that he is."
"You did!" he exclaimed, a look of genuine, shock on his face.
"Okay, I reconsider, stop teasing me," I said, swatting at his chest.
"I always thought you were scared of me or something," he said.
"I was scared," I said, making air quotes with my fingers, and we both laughed. It felt good to laugh about it, to strip the fear of its power.
"Tell me more," he said.
"More about what?"
"You just admitted openly you had a crush on your boss."
"A major crush," I confirmed.
"Damn, I was so clueless," he countered, shaking his head in disbelief.
"That you were," I said.
"What was I doing to you, you know in your dreams and fantasies?" he asked, a dirty, knowing look entering his eyes.
"Oh, Damien," I breathed, leaning in closer. "My dreams didn't do you justice. The reality turned out way better."
"You don't say," he smirked.
"Fuck, don't remind me," I sighed dramatically. "I might have sex with you again."
"Hey! You're doing this on purpose," I said, as he pulled me closer. "You want to make up for all the time I was in New York, and here I thought you were an honest man, but you're as sly as Jacob."
"Trust me," he said, his voice dropping to a serious, sincere rumble. "I could never."
And with that, we both laughed, a real, genuine, uninhibited laugh that filled the quiet room and sealed the deal on something new and fragile and incredibly real between us.
A whole fucking week later. Damien and I were standing right in front of the main door. I was practically bouncing on the balls of my feet, a stupid, goofy grin plastered on my face that I just couldn't seem to wipe off. The anticipation was a fizzy, exciting thing bubbling up inside me, making it hard to stand still.
"I can't fucking believe you're so excited," Damien said beside me, his voice a low, annoyed grumble. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, the very picture of sullen irritation.
"I can't believe you're not," I shot back, rolling my eyes at his dramatics. "It's your brother, you idiot. You can finally see if he's healthy and fine with your own two eyes." He just rolled his eyes again, a gesture that was becoming his signature move around me lately.
Just as I was about to poke him in the ribs, the distinct sound of a key in the lock echoed through the quiet hall. My heart did a little flip-flop. The door swung open.
And there he was. Jacob. Looking a little tired, but with a lazy, exhausted-but-happy grin that made my stomach do a swoop. He was leaning against the doorframe, his eyes finding mine instantly.
"Honey, I'm home," he said, his voice a low, familiar rumble that sent a shiver straight down my spine.
I let out a little gasp of pure, joy.
"Technically," Damien said from beside me, his voice dripping with sarcastic venom, "it's not your home, so you don't get to say it."
I ignored him completely. In two strides, I closed the distance between us and launched myself at Jacob, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He caught me with a soft oof, his good arm wrapping securely around me, holding me tight.
"Quite a welcome," he chuckled, his face buried in my hair, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. I pulled back just enough to look at him, and then I was kissing him. It was a frantic, desperate kiss, a week's worth of worry and longing poured into a single, breathless moment.
"I've missed you too, sweetheart," he murmured between kisses, his lips claiming mine again and again, each one a confirmation that he was really here, he was really okay.