Kinsley: Snowball Fight

We didn't ski on Christmas.  We considered it, but we were both feeling a little lazy (and I was awfully sore).  Instead, we played outside in the snow, complete with snow angels, a snowball fight and a snowman.

I started the snowball fight by shoving a handful of snow down the back of Damien's coat.  I'd never heard him yelp like a girl before, but he certainly did it then.  By the time he recovered enough to grab some snow, I'd taken off, and his snowball whizzed past my elbow.  "You'll have to do better than that!" I called, turning just in time to dodge a snowball headed directly towards my head.

He ran after me as I scooped up a handful of snow and sent it flying back towards him.  It hit him in the leg, which is a worthless place for a snowball to land but better than he'd done yet.  I turned and ran again, skidding around the corner of the house.  I ran awkwardly, because have you ever tried to run in two feet of snow?  It doesn't work very well.

I was bending down to make a snowball around the corner of the house when Damien suddenly grabbed me from behind and flipped me upside down so I was dangling with my face just inches from the snow.  "Give me one good reason I shouldn't give you a face full of snow," he threatened, laughing.

I was laughing too hard to give him any reason at all, much less a good one.  "Nothing?" he asked, dipping me a little lower.  "That pretty face of yours is about to get awfully cold."

"Is 'because I'm pretty' a good reason?" I gasped, trying to catch my breath.

"Hmmm," he pretended to consider, lowing me a little then pulling me back up a bit.  "No.  But I'll give you another chance."

"I can't think when I'm upside down above 2 feet of snow!" I protested.

"That sounds like your problem, not mine," Damien teased.

"Well," I said, "If you put me down, I'll make it worth your while."

"How?" he asked.

"Oh, I think you can probably figure that out."

Apparently, it was tempting enough, because he let me down without dunking my head in the snow.  I scooped up a handful of snow and chucked it at him before taking off.  He caught up to me within seconds and tackled me into the deep snow, and we wrestled in the snow until I admitted defeat.


"I feel like a kid," I said, laughing as we came inside and stomped the snow off our boots.

"So do I," Damien agreed.  "I haven't played in the snow in ages.  It was fun."  He grabbed me by the waist and kissed the tip of my cold nose.  "Your nose is pink."

"Your whole face is," I replied, grinning at him.  He laughed and drew me closer, lowering his lips to mine.  His lips, somehow, were warm against mine, and I sighed into our kiss and leaned into him.  We were both still covered in snow and wearing far too much clothing for inside, but it didn't matter.  "I love you," I said as we pulled away from each other to pull off our outerwear.  "I know I keep saying it, but this has been the best Christmas.  Thank you for spending it here with me."

"Look at you and your feelings," he teased me gently as he pulled his gloves off.  "I love you too, and I agree.  This has been really great.  I thought I might miss seeing the kids open their gifts but it's been kind of nice to just relax and not have to listen to squealing and shrieking."

"I can squeal and shriek if you want to," I said, grinning.  "You know, just to really give you that true Christmas experience."

He grinned mischievously and wiggled his eyebrows at me.  "I'll give you a Christmas experience that will make you squeal and shriek," he threatened.

I threw my glove at him, and he caught it easily.  "You're a perv," I said, shaking my head.

"You don't seem to mind," he countered, tossing the glove back to me.

"That's because I don't," I answered, rolling my eyes.  I tugged off my coat and hung it up, then wandered towards the kitchen.  Damien followed me in, then opened a cabinet and pulled out a container of hot chocolate.  "This weekend keeps getting better and better!" I exclaimed, grabbing it from him.

We made hot chocolate and started working on dinner.  I'd wanted ham, but apparently Damien isn't a fan (this is probably the only thing he won't eat), so we settled on roasting a chicken instead.  I got the chicken prepped and in the oven, then we took our hot chocolate into the living room.

We spent the rest of the day being lazy, making dinner together, and then having sex.  Again.  Though I definitely had no complaints.

We skied again all day Saturday, then did a few quick runs on Sunday morning before we left.   At my suggestion, Damien had called his mom on Saturday to see if she wanted company for Sunday dinner, which she was thrilled about.  I kind of just wanted to go home and relax in my tub with a glass of wine, but I figured the least I could do was have dinner with Damien's family after he spent the whole holiday weekend with me.  I could tell he was happy that I suggested it, so I was glad to do it.

Claire greeted us excitedly at the door.  "Come in," she said happily.  "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Claire," I replied, hugging her.  "Thanks for letting me steal your son for the weekend."

"Oh sweetheart, we missed you both, but you can steal him any time you'd like."  She glanced at him, then in an exaggerated whisper said, "I think he likes you better than us and I think it's wonderful."

"Mom," Damien said, rolling his eyes.  I laughed and Claire winked at me.

We had planned a family "Christmas" with them for the next weekend, but it hadn't stopped Claire from making a huge ham dinner with all the trimmings.  "And I made a pork chop for you," she said to Damien.  He grinned.  I was just excited to get my ham.

"I don't get why you like pork chops but not ham," I said, shaking my head.

He gave me a weird look.  "They don't taste the same at all.  They don't even look the same!  It's not like the difference between white meat chicken and dark meat.  Or a ribeye and a New York strip."

I shrugged and was about to respond when the door opened again.  "No!" came a tiny (but loud) voice.  "Uncle Damien's truck is out there.  Uncle Damien???"

"We're here, Amelia," Damien called back.

"Kinsley?" Amelia shrieked, flying around the corner and skidding to a stop in the kitchen.  She composed herself enough to walk over and fling her arms around my legs.

"Hi Amelia!" I greeted her, bending down to actually hug her.

She pulled back and looked at me with her wide eyes.  "Kinsley?  Did Santa come see you at the house in Crested Butte?  He knows where it is. He's come to see us there before."

I laughed.  "He sure did.  Did he come see you?"

She nodded, eyes still wide.  "Did he ever!" she declared, which made me laugh.  Then, just as quickly as she'd flown into the kitchen, she scrambled back out, yelling for her mom.  Luke gave her a dirty look as she scooted past him, then shook his head and rolled his eyes in a very well-practiced big brother way.

Dinner was--of course--wonderful, and we left fairly early because we were both tired.  Damien dropped me off at home and helped me bring my stuff in before he headed home for the night.  

I slept so well Sunday night that I was not even close to prepared for my alarm on Monday morning.  I almost always woke up just a little before my alarm went off, but I was sound asleep still this time.  It took me a few minutes to convince myself to get out of bed.  Once I was up, though, I was fine.

Work seemed to go pretty fast, and afterwards I met Liv and Lauren for drinks and dinner.  Kendra was supposed to come too, but she wasn't feeling well and bailed.  We got an update on Alex first, and Lauren reported that he was doing pretty well, though he was feeling a bit cooped up and was frustrated with that.

I told them about my awesome Christmas with Damien.  "It was seriously so good," I said excitedly.  "I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a holiday.  This was so much better than any holiday I ever spent with my parents."

"Were your parents upset you were gone?" Liv asked.

I snorted.  "I wasn't invited to either of their Christmases, so probably not."

"So when are you guys getting married?" Lauren asked nonchalantly.

"Sometime after we're engaged, I would imagine," I replied sarcastically.

She raised an eyebrow.  "Have you even talked about it?"

I shook my head.  "No."

Now she frowned a little.  "Don't you think that's weird?"

"No...should I?" I asked, starting to get a little irritated.

"It's been, what?  Almost a year and a half, right?  He's not getting any younger."

"Lauren!" Liv said.

"What?" she asked.  Liv just gave her a dirty look.

"Neither of us are, obviously," I replied.  "But we're both happy with the way things are.  He's probably waiting for me to bring it up, and I'm just not there yet.  But I can see myself marrying him at some point."

"Kinsley?  Getting married?  I don't believe that," came a familiar, sarcastic male voice.

My breath caught for a second as my brain processed who the voice belonged to.  I looked up, straight into Cole's eyes.

Kinsley: Thanksgiving part 1

Next week's bonuses (and Thanksgiving) are starting early!  I've got two Kinsley posts and two Lauren posts for this upcoming week.  I hope you enjoy them :)
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"My dad wants us to come to Thanksgiving at his house," I complained to Damien, hanging up the phone.  I was curled up next to him on the couch, with just our arms and legs touching.  We were planning to have Thanksgiving dinner with Damien's family, because I assumed I wouldn't be invited after my dad hung up on me the last time we talked.  Of course, he didn't invite me in a timely fashion--he waited until the day before Thanksgiving to invite us.

"What do you want to do?" Damien asked.

I sighed.  "I don't know.  I don't really want to go, but I probably should at least stop by."

"What time is their dinner?"

"5."

"Well, if you want to stop by, we'd be able to do both my family and yours," he pointed out.

"I know," I agreed.  "Are you okay with going with me?"

"Of course," he said immediately.  So that was how we ended up with plans to go to two different Thanksgiving meals.

I was looking forward to dinner with Damien's family.  Even more so once I found out that Adrienne was spending the day with her new boyfriend's family.  Damien's family ate at noon, and we were planning to get up and go for a quick run together before we got ready and headed over.  I know, we're pretty much the worst.

I was expecting to wake up to my obnoxious alarm, but instead I woke up to Damien softly kissing my shoulder.  I slowly became more aware of my surroundings and could feel his hand caressing my hip and thigh.  I shifted, and Damien softly asked if I was awake.  I mumbled something unintelligible in response.  He kissed shoulder again, then started to shift away from me.  "No," I groaned.  "Come back."

Damien chuckled and moved back towards me, and then his mouth was back against my shoulder, this time nibbling experimentally.  "I thought we were going for a run," I mumbled, yawning and trying to wake up.  I love morning sex, but it takes me awhile to get into it.

"I'd rather do this," he replied, his lips moving against my skin and his hand sliding up my side to my breast.  "Unless you'd rather go for a run..." He gave my nipple a quick tug and then teasingly slid his hand away.

"No," I said again.  I reached for his hand and placed it back on my breast, then arched my back, pressing my hips against him.  I could feel him against me, and I was pretty sure he wouldn't be doing any running in the state he was in.  He rolled my nipple between his fingers and I sighed.  "Feels good," I said, still not awake enough for full sentences.

"Good," he replied, sliding the tip of his tongue up my neck and surprising me by sharply nipping at my earlobe.  I gasped in pleasure and surprise, then groaned as he sucked gently on it, easing the sting of the bite.  Meanwhile, his hand had left my breast and was sliding down my stomach, and I eagerly bent one knee up, waiting for his fingers to stroke me.  I was disappointed when he chose instead to trail his fingers up the inside of my thigh towards my knee.  Finally, his hand dropped between my thighs and he buried two fingers inside me while rubbing circles against my skin with his thumb.  I reached behind me to stroke him while he worked his fingers inside me.  He stopped abruptly just before I came, and I groaned angrily.

"Relax," he replied teasingly.  He lifted my top leg and guided himself achingly slowly into me.  I tried to rock my hips back against his to speed up the process but he clamped his hand down, holding me in place and stopping his own forward progress.

"God, you're the worst," I muttered.  I started to say something else, but was cut off by him suddenly and quickly pushing the rest of the way inside me.  "Fuuuck," I groaned instead, turning my head into the pillow to muffle my moans.  After I came, I rolled away from him, pushed him onto his back, and got on top.  I had one more orgasm before he finished, gripping my hips tightly in his hands.

I barely managed to get off of him, collapsing with my head on his chest and my leg draped over his.  "Good morning," I mumbled.

"Good morning," he replied.  "That was better than a run."  I nodded and yawned.  We ended up falling back asleep before waking up to an alarm Damien must have set when he decided to scrap the run.

After getting ready, we headed to his mom's house.  She greeted us warmly and immediately put Damien to work in the kitchen.  I offered to help but she refused to let me, so I sat at the kitchen island and smirked at Damien.

It was so nice not having Adrienne lurking around making snide comments.  Elize walked in, carrying a large bowl and admonishing one of her children.  Luke and Amelia ran right into the kitchen and hugged Claire, who then shooed them away.  I offered again to help but was refused, so I went into the living room with the kids to keep them occupied.

"Kinsley!" Amelia shrieked.  In her haste to greet her grandmother, she hadn't even noticed me sitting at the island.  She clambered up into my lap and kneeled on my thighs so she was eye level with me.  "Guess what I can do?"

"What?" I asked, laughing and shifting her slightly so her bony knees weren't digging into my legs quite so painfully.

"I can write my name!"

"No you can't!" Luke called from across the room.  "No one can read it."

"I can too!" she replied angrily, making tiny fists and sending a scowl Luke's way.

I leaned down and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen out of my purse and handed them to Amelia.  "Show me," I suggested.  She happily complied, wrapping her fist around the pen and drawing huge, shaky letters across the page.  She ran out of room at the L and squeezed a tiny I and A down the side of the page.

"Wow!" I exclaimed cheerfully.  "Great job, Amelia!"  She beamed up at me.

"But you can't even read it," Luke complained.  "I can write my entire name."

"Well come and show me," I said, motioning him over.  He took the pen and paper and scowled at Amelia's name, then flipped the paper over and scrawled out his first, middle, and last name.  "That's awesome, Luke!" I praised him.

Elize stuck her head in the room and breathed a sigh of relief.  "Thank you," she said.  "They're both cranky today and I'm about at the end of my rope.  I got a little worried when I didn't hear them."

"We're fine," I replied, smiling at her.  "Go ahead and take a break, we'll hang out in here."

"You're my favorite person right now," she said.  "You guys be good for Kinsley."  They didn't even look up at her and she hurried back towards the kitchen before they noticed.

I spent the next 20 minutes refereeing their arguments, watching Amelia write her name over and over, and rolling wayward toy cars back to Luke.  Amelia finally got tired of Luke repeating that he could write his whole name, and demanded I show her how to write her whole name too.  I was in the middle of doing that when I looked up and saw Damien leaning against the doorframe, watching me with a small smile playing at his lips.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

He smiled wider and came into the room, sitting on the floor next to me.  He kissed my cheek, which earned an "Ewwww, that's so gross!" from Luke, and said softly, "I love watching you with them."

"Look Uncle Damien!" Amelia squealed.  She held up her paper triumphantly.

He took it and grinned at her.  "You're a good writer, Amelia," he said.

She stood and climbed into his lap, nestling against his chest.  My heart melted a little.

"Teach me how to write Kinsley's name," she demanded, shoving the pen into Damien's hand.   He chuckled and drew out the letters for her.  Amelia grinned wildly when she finished copying them.  She started to ask for something else, but Elize came back into the room and told the kids to go wash their hands for dinner.

"Thank you," she said to me as Damien and I stood to trail them out of the room.  "You're a lifesaver."

"Claire wouldn't let me help in the kitchen, so it was the least I could do," I assured her.  "And I love hanging out with them."

"They love hanging out with you," she replied.  "Well, Amelia does.  I'm not sure if Luke likes anything."  I laughed as we made it into the kitchen.  We washed our hands too, then sat down at the table.

The meal was amazing, and I ate so much I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to eat at my dad's house.  Oh well, their meal was never this good.  We lingered a long time at the table, drinking wine and talking boisterously.  I actually had fun, which is something that is a foreign concept to me at a family event.  It was nice to not have Adrienne there, but I think I still would have had fun even if she was.  This Thanksgiving dinner felt like every Thanksgiving dinner I'd wished desperately to have growing up.

Once we'd recovered from the meal, Claire brought out the pies.  She'd made pumpkin, pecan, apple, and peach, and I had the hardest time deciding.  We stayed and hung out until it was time to leave to go my dad's house.  I almost suggested we skip my dad's and just stay, but I'd already told him we'd be there.  I may be immature and rude but I'm not a complete social clod.

"Sorry we ended up staying so long," Damien said as he opened my car door for me.  We'd taken my car, but I let him drive.

"Are you kidding?" I replied.  "I had a really great time.  Your mom is the most amazing cook."

He grinned at me and said, "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

We drove straight to my dad's house, and I quickly lost my cheerfulness as we got closer and closer.  I don't know why I even decided we should come.  I was dreading it.  Damien glanced at me a couple times but remained mercifully quiet.

He parked in front of my dad's house and looked over at me.  "Ready?" he asked softly.  I nodded and we got out.  I was already regretting my decision, but I squared my shoulders and told myself to grow up.

I knocked, not feeling comfortable enough to just walk into his house.  Christina opened the door and smiled tentatively.  I greeted her politely as we walked into the house.  I started to take off my coat, but stopped dead--one arm in a sleeve, one arm out.  I stared at the people in the living room, not sure if my eyes were playing tricks on me.  I could feel Damien watching me curiously.

"Happy Thanksgiving," my dad said cheerfully.  "Isn't it nice that your brother was able to join us, Kinsley?"

Kinsley: A Family that's Actually a Family

I stayed asleep until almost noon, then laid in bed playing on my phone until my stomach grumbled too much to be ignored.  I got up and had some more leftovers from the night before, then took a long, steaming hot shower.  Then, before I could think too much, I got in my car and drove to the hospital.  At the information desk, I found out my mom had been moved to a different floor and got directions.  I rode the elevator up, wondering what I was doing.

When I found her room, I stood quietly in the doorway until she noticed me.  When she saw me, her face registered surprise, then anger.  "Did you come to yell at me some more?" she snapped.

"No," I replied evenly.  "I came to spend some time with you.  I actually don't want to fight with you, I just want to hang out for a little while.  If you don't want me here, I'll go."

Her face softened and she nodded.  "Come in, then," she said.  I walked into the room and sat down in the uncomfortable chair next to the bed.  We looked at each other awkwardly before she asked me how work was going, and I was able to talk about that for awhile.

I stayed for 92 painful, awkward minutes.  My mom took every possible opportunity to throw in a passive-aggressive jab, but I maturely ignored them for the first time in my life.  I didn't feel any better after I left, but I didn't feel worse either.

When I got home, I curled up on the couch and put on a movie.  I dozed off and on while I watched, until my phone rang.  It was 5:30, and Damien was calling.  He told me that he would be at work for a few more hours, so he obviously wasn't going to be able to go to dinner with his family.  "Do you think it would be okay if I went anyway?" I asked impulsively.

"Well...yeah, I don't see why not," Damien said slowly.

I wasn't sure what his hesitation was, so I quickly said, "I won't if you don't want me to, I just thought..." I trailed off, not sure what exactly I thought.

"No, I'm completely okay with it, and I'm sure my mom would love to have you," he assured me. "I just don't want you to go out of obligation.  If you truly want to go, I think that's great and you should definitely go.  But if you're going because you feel bad about yesterday, that's different."

"I truly want to go," I insisted.  "I didn't go to work today, and I just need something normal tonight."

"Okay," he replied.  "I'll call my mom and let her know.  Are you going to head over now?"

"Yeah, in a few minutes."  I knew that they usually ate between 6 and 6:30.  I hung up and went upstairs to brush my hair and teeth.  I touched up my minimal makeup, then headed out.  While I was locking the door, I got a text from Damien that said, "My mom is thrilled you're coming without me.  Can I spend the night with you if I get done early enough?"  I texted back that he could, then got in my car and headed for his mom's house.

Claire greeted me at the door, pulling me into a tight hug.  "How's your mom, sweetheart?"

"She's going to be okay," I replied.  "Thank you for asking."

Claire held me out at arm's length and looked me up and down.  "You need a good meal and a good night's sleep.  Is my son not taking good care of you?  I'll tell him--"

I cut her off, laughing.  "He's been absolutely wonderful, Claire, I promise."

Satisfied, she nodded.  "Good.  He's always tried hard, but sometimes he just doesn't quite get it.  I'm glad to hear he's gotten it together.  Come in, love, let me get you something to drink."  She ushered me into the kitchen.

Adrienne, Damien's 24-year-old step sister, was sitting at the island, flipping through a magazine.  "Oh," she said, looking up and seeing me.  "I thought Damien wasn't coming."

"He's not," Claire responded.  "Kinsley came without him."

"Why?" Adrienne asked, frowning.

"Adrienne!" Claire scolded her.

Adrienne pouted.  "What?  I was just asking why.  She's never come here without him before.  I think it's a perfectly legitimate question."

I answered before the situation could get even more uncomfortable.  "I was looking forward to coming, and I didn't see a reason to cancel when Damien couldn't make it."

"Oh," Adrienne replied.  She looked at me blankly for a couple more seconds before shrugging and turning her attention back to her magazine.

"Sorry," Claire mouthed to me when we made eye contact.  I shrugged and smiled.

Luckily, Adrienne avoided conversation with me for the rest of the evening.  Dinner was amazing, and after the events of the weekend, it was nice to spend some time with a family that's actually a family.

I was helping Claire clear the dishes, despite her protests, when the front door opened and Damien came in.  "You're not supposed to be here either!" Adrienne said exasperatedly.  Damien just gave her a confused look and walked into the kitchen.

I was surprised when he stopped to kiss me before greeting his mom.  "Hi," he said softly.  "Sorry I couldn't make it for dinner."

I smiled.  "It's okay, we had a nice time without you."

His eyes scanned my face and then he cracked a smile and took the bowl out of my hands and brought it to the sink.  "Hi, Mom," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

"Do you need some food?  I can make you a plate," Claire responded.

He shook his head.  "No, thanks.  I ate at the office."

"You know," Claire replied, "I read an article on the internet about why you shouldn't eat at your desk."

"Oh, really?  You should forward it to me, it sounds interesting."  He winked at me over his mom's shoulder and I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

"I'll make you a plate anyway," she declared.  "You can take it with you.  Have it for lunch tomorrow.  If you're going to eat at your desk, at least you'll have a home cooked meal and not some fast food garbage.  Kinsley, I'll make you a plate too."

"Claire, that's so nice, but you really don't--"

"Hush," she replied.  "You're taking some food.  You don't need to worry about cooking when your mother is sick."

"Your mom is sick?" Adrienne asked, looking interested for the first time since I got there.

"None of your business," Claire chided her.

"You said it right in front of me!" Adrienne replied, huffing out a frustrated breath.

"Is there any dessert?" Damien asked, interrupting their spat.

Claire turned and looked at him, hands on her hips.  "Is there any dessert?  Are you my son?  You tell me, is there any dessert?"

"I misspoke," Damien amended.  "What I meant was: what's for dessert, and did I miss it?"

"You didn't miss it, and I threw together a clafoutis.  If you actually do something useful like help that darling girlfriend of yours clear the table, I'll get it ready."

"I would love to," he responded, grinning at me.  I smiled back.  I loved listening to him banter with his mom.  She reminded me of my childhood best friend's mom, a boisterous, loving Italian woman who was always shoving food at people.  Claire had definitely inherited similar qualities from her Italian mother, though it was tempered a bit, perhaps by her French father's genes and disposition.

"What would like me to do?" Damien asked, coming over to the table.

"Oh, you knock that right off!" Claire called from the other side of the kitchen.  "You have eyes.  You can see what needs to be done.  Kinsley, don't you let him pretend like he doesn't know how to clear a table."

"Busted," I said, smirking at Damien.  He just laughed and started collecting the silverware off the table.

We left about an hour later, after having dessert and chatting with Damien's mom and stepdad for a little while.  When we got outside, Damien asked if I still wanted him to spend the night.  I told him I did and we got in our cars and headed to my house.

Once we were home, Damien looked at me carefully.  "How are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I replied.

"How are you really, though?" he asked.  "You took the day off?"

"Yeah, I was exhausted.  I'm tired.  I...went to see my mom today."  He nodded but didn't say anything.  "It was weird.  She was angry at me, and we spent most of the time I was there just silently watching TV together.  I also spent a lot of time ignoring her digs at me."

"I'm sorry," Damien said.

I shrugged.  "I had to go.  I had to feel like I tried, you know?  Just because she wasn't there for me doesn't mean I shouldn't try to be there for her."

"Just because she's your mom doesn't mean you have to, though," Damien countered.  It was the most anti-family thing I'd ever heard him say.

"I know," I agreed.  "But it seemed important."

"And?"

"And I don't know.  I didn't feel much of anything, besides annoyed at how passive-aggressive she was being."

"That's okay," he said.

"It doesn't feel okay," I replied.  "I feel like I should feel something.  She's my mom."

"Biologically, you're right.  But it sounds like she certainly didn't act like one."

"She was sick.  Depressed.  I don't know.  I don't really want to talk about this anymore."  I was started to get anxious because I couldn't explain my feelings.

"I shouldn't have pushed," Damien said apologetically.

I shook my head.  "It's okay," I assured him.  "I wanted to talk about it.  Until I didn't.  Talking about my family is still really new to me."  I fidgeted and stood, then sat again quickly.  I racked my brain for something else to talk about but it wasn't working.

"Let's go for a walk," Damien suggested.

"A walk?  Now?  It's dark."

"So what?  It'll help."  Without responding, I got up and put on my shoes.  Damien followed me out the door, and we walked quietly down the sidewalk, our arms brushing occasionally.  I realized quickly that he was right and it was really calming walking in the dark.  It was quieter than during the day, and the darkness was soothing.  After we'd walked for about 10 minutes, I stepped a little closer to Damien and reached for his hand.  He took it without a word and we wound our fingers together.

"You know," Damien said, as we neared minute 20 of our quiet nighttime walk, "my mom really likes you."

"I really like your mom," I replied.  We fell back into silence and finished our walk as quietly as we started.  I appreciated that Damien could be quiet without feeling the need to fill the silence like most people do.

By the time we got back to my house, I was calm.  Probably the most calm I'd been since my shower after our run yesterday morning.  It was strange to think that just a couple months ago Damien did a great job of (inadvertently) making me feel like a crazy person for how I felt about my family (and family in general).  The past two days he'd done a great job making me feel less crazy.  I was relieved that he had gotten to witness some of my family drama firsthand, and that I had finally told him more about them.  I had also gotten a chance to appreciate his unshakeable calm for once.  Maybe I'd work on appreciating that more.

I glanced at the clock as we walked inside and was surprised to see it was after 10.  "You must be exhausted," I said to Damien.  "You were up so early."

"Yeah, it was a long day.  I'm pretty tired," he replied.  "In fact, if it's alright with you, I'm about ready for bed."

"I think that's a great idea," I agreed.  We brushed our teeth at the same time, then he went to get in bed while I washed my makeup off.

When I got back to my room, I found him laying in bed on his back with his phone out, scrolling through something.  He set the phone aside as I tugged my clothes off and climbed into bed, and I curled against his side with my head on his shoulder for our usual couple minutes of cuddling before I rolled back to my side of the bed to sleep.

It didn't take long for my eyelids to get heavy, and I said goodnight and rolled away from Damien, onto my side.  "Goodnight, Kinsley," he replied.  "I love you."

I barely got the words out in return before I was asleep.