Incapable (Love Triumphs 3)

“You went in without Jamie.”

Damon shrugged. He walked straight at her, knocking her shoulder even as she tried to get out of his way. She followed him through to the kitchen where he got a beer from the fridge, not bothering to ask after anyone else.

He’d had been drinking steadily every evening. None of them had been able to get him interested in leaving the house other than for his specialist appointments, and those he would only do alone, until Jamie suggested the swim.

Watching Damon sip his beer, Jamie said, “Cheers,” rolling his eyes, then his temper got the better of him. “Fuck, Damon.” He looked at her and mouthed the word, sorry. “You could’ve been taken out by a rip, by a fucking shark. How did you even think you were going to find our place on the sand after you got out of the surf?”

“You found me, what are you worried about? I knew you would.”

“Jesus, you dickhead. That was too much of a risk. What if I didn’t? What, tell me what was I supposed to do? The beach is closed after six, there wasn’t anyone around to help.”

“I wasn’t asking for help.” Damon coughed and took a slug of beer. “I was swimming.” He walked to the table, felt for a chair, pulled it out and sat. Georgia kept her distance from him. His voice was so uneven, uncertain, if he’d needed help there’d be no way he could’ve effectively called for it.

Jamie watched him like he was an unexploded grenade. “Are you trying to step it up from drunk to death wish?”

Damon coughed again. He wasn’t meant to be drinking fluids that were too hot or too cold and he knew it, like he knew all his current choices were bad ones. “Are we back in drama class? Dalia would be proud of your performance.”

Jamie jammed fists on his hips. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Damon gave the word gravel rash; it fell from his mouth gutter low, hateful and mean. “You asked me if I wanted a swim. You told me you had to take a call from the car. I knew you’d be back.” His voice failed on those last words, dropping to a whisper. He took a long drag on the bottle then slammed it on the table. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Jamie smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “He doesn’t see what the big deal is.” He looked at Georgia and barked out a laugh, fake and forced, then his eyes shifted to Taylor now standing in the doorway.

“Leave it,” she said, coming into the room. She made a throat slashing movement with her hand, then put it on Damon’s shoulder.

“Leave it?” Jamie’s voice squeaked with incredulity. “Did you not just punch him because he might’ve drowned, and now you want to leave it?”

“We know why this happened.”

Georgia stepped forward from where she’d been standing by the sink. She’d meant to put the kettle on, make tea, make peace, try to get Damon to eat something, now she wanted to stop Taylor and Jamie going at each other in front of him.

“No, we fucking well don’t, and don’t speak for him,” said Jamie.

She was too late.

Damon stood, brushing Taylor aside, knocking the chair over. He stepped wide around it, hiccupped, cleared his throat, went to the fridge, took another beer out and left the room. And all the three of them did was watch him, impotent now, as they had been for the last month, to help him adjust.

Taylor flew at Jamie. “Why did you leave him alone? You’re such an idiot.”

Jamie kept his place, butt against the cupboard, legs stretched out in front, arms folded across his chest. “He’s not a kid.”

“He’s not right in the head.” If Taylor could’ve gotten in Jamie’s face she would’ve, but he was well defended, his limbs a fortress, his expression shut down to grim. “How could you leave him alone like that?”

He pushed off the cupboard and leaned towards her. “Don’t make this about me. How does making this about me help things?”

Taylor’s chin shot up so fast she was courting whiplash. “Oh, God forbid I should make it about you. The perfect corporate machine.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Georgia had missed any chance to stop this. Assuming Damon hadn’t jammed his headphones on, he’d be hearing every word. But it was time every word had a hearing.

Taylor’s chin dropped. “Nothing.” She stepped back. “It means nothing at all.”

Jamie followed, standing straight, stepping towards her. “No, you tell me what that means. What did I do to you?”

“You did nothing to me.”

“So is that the problem? All this time, is that the problem? Did you want something from me, Taylor? If you wanted something, all you had to do was ask.”