Chapter 18: Slipping Into Something More

Phoebe didn't know when it happened.

Maybe it was when she stopped flinching at his presence.

Or when she realized that the silence between them had shifted—from heavy and uncertain to something calm.

Maybe it was when she stopped counting how many days it had been since her father cut her off.

Because with Damon around, the emptiness didn't feel so unbearable.

---

They started talking.

Not the surface-level exchanges they used to have. Not the sarcastic remarks or tense debates from before.

But real conversations.

Like the one they had last night.

She had been curled up on the couch, staring at the ceiling, when she whispered, "I don't know who I am without them."

Damon didn't ask who she meant.

He just sat beside her, quiet for a moment, before saying, "You're you."

She scoffed. "That's not an answer."

"It's the only one that matters."

And damn it—something about the way he said it made her chest feel too tight.

---

It wasn't just the gentle brushes anymore.

It was how he lingered.

How he let his hand rest on her back when he passed behind her in the kitchen. How he tugged her hand away from her face when she rubbed her temples too hard, muttering, You'll give yourself a headache.

It was the way he looked at her.

Like he saw her.

Not just the version of her the world expected. Not the woman who had spent years playing by the rules of men who saw her as nothing more than a chess piece.

But her.

And God help her—she wanted him.

More than she had ever let herself admit.

But wanting Damon Blackwood?

That was dangerous.

So why wasn't she pulling away?

---

The night stretched on, quiet and still, wrapping around them like a cocoon.

Phoebe sat on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, watching the ice melt in her untouched glass of wine. Damon sat across from her, one arm draped over the back of the couch, watching her.

Not like he was waiting for her to speak.

Just like he was there.

Like he wasn't going anywhere.

And maybe that's why she spoke.

Maybe that's why she let the words slip past her lips, words she had never said out loud before.

"I don't want to be this broken ever again."

Damon didn't move, didn't flinch.

He just let her words settle.

"I spent my whole life trying to be enough for them," she whispered, voice raw. "Trying to prove that I was worth more than some damn deal. But no matter how much I gave, no matter how much I sacrificed—it was never enough."

A long silence.

Then—

"They never deserved you."

Phoebe let out a small, bitter laugh. "That's easy to say. But if it's true, then why does it still hurt?"

Damon shifted, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His voice was quiet when he spoke.

"Because you're not heartless."

She swallowed.

He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "I used to think I had everything figured out," he admitted. "My career. My goals. The kind of man I wanted to be." He paused, his gaze flickering to hers. "Then you happened."

Phoebe's breath caught.

Damon let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You ruined my plans, you know. Made me second-guess everything." He glanced at her. "You still do."

Her chest tightened.

It was so easy to forget who they had been before.

So easy to forget that their beginning had been a lie.

But this—this—felt real.

Too real.

She let out a shaky breath. "I don't know how to trust this, Damon."

His gaze darkened. "Then don't."

Phoebe frowned.

Damon reached out, his fingers brushing over hers, his touch warm, steady. "Don't force yourself to trust it. Just… feel it."

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to block out the way her heart clenched at his words.

Trying—and failing.

Because the truth was, she did feel it.

She felt it in the way he looked at her.

In the way he showed up.

In the way he was still here.

Her fingers curled around his before she even realized what she was doing.

And then—

Damon moved closer.

Slow.

Unrushed.

Like he was giving her the chance to stop this.

But she didn't.

And when his lips brushed against hers, soft and careful, she melted.

The kiss wasn't rushed.

Wasn't desperate.

It was quiet.

Warm.

A slow unraveling of everything they had buried.

And neither of them pulled away.

Not when the kiss deepened.

Not when his hand found her waist, pulling her closer.

Not when she pressed against him, letting herself get lost in the moment.

And when they finally broke apart, breathless, Damon didn't say a word.

He just pulled her against him, wrapping an arm around her, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek.

And for the first time in a long time—

Phoebe let herself rest.

---

She woke up to the soft glow of morning.

Damon was still there, his arm draped around her, his breathing slow and even.

And for once—just once—Phoebe didn't overthink it.

She just closed her eyes and let herself have this.