Free Damaged 2 by H.M. Ward

but Peter never steps on me. We rock-step a few times before he spins me
away. When he spins me back, I twirl into his chest, where he holds me tight.
My hands slip around his waist and over the scar. I watch as Peter's eyes fill
with memories he can't control. The smile fades like a star in sunlight, until
it's completely gone.
    Peter
blinks a few times, like he's waking from a dream. He releases me and turns
away. When he grabs his sweats off the bed, he bends over and picks up my
towel. Peter turns back to me and places it over my shoulders and holds it
tight in front until I take it.
    He
gives me a sad smile and says, "Thank you."
    I
nod slowly, not understanding. It feels like rejection, but in the back of my
mind I know it's more than that. He's stuck, trapped in his past as badly as I
am, or possibly more.
    "I
know there's no future for us," he says. "I screwed things up too badly in the
past and I get that, but I really need a good friend right now and I know you
do, too. This"—he inhales deeply and gestures between us—"can't happen again. I
know that, but—"
    I
cut him off. I walk over to him and kiss his cheek before saying, "Peter,
shhhhh. I'm your friend at the very least. At the very most, why don't we just
wait and see?"
    He
looks at me like I'm a mirage. His eyes are so wide, so vulnerable. "I'm not
the man I was before. I'm not Pete Ferro anymore." His eyes dip to the scar
that wraps around his side. "You don't understand—she changed me in a way I'd
never thought possible. I stopped fighting, I stopped doing all the shit that I
was known for. Finding the right person is the kind of thing that you only get
one shot at, and I fucked it up. I lost her.
    "My
life changed that night and no matter what I do, I can't get things back the
way they were. Then I met you, and I thought I was wrong." He looks up at me,
looking completely lost. "When I saw Dean, something snapped. If the old guy hadn't
pulled out his gun, Sidney, I don't know what I would have done. I can't tell
if I was justified or not, but every time I see that guy it's like…" He
squeezes his hands tightly and swallows whatever he was going to say.
    I
watch him because I can't look away. This feels like a moment where everything
is bending to the point that it's going to snap. I know what he means; I know
it too well. I'm afraid to touch him, afraid to step forward, but I manage. My
hand slips onto his forearm. The muscles are corded tight as if they'll break
at any moment. Peter twitches when my skin touches his. He gazes down at my
hand and then up into my face. "You're not Pete Ferro anymore. I get it. I'm
not the same Sidney that walked around Jersey all those years ago, either. What
was taken from us, we don't get back, Peter. It's just gone. It's like the land
after a fire, charred to pitch black and barren."
    He
shakes his head. "No, not for you. Somehow you pulled out of that for the most
part. I see it in your eyes."
    "I'm
wearing a towel to bed, Peter." I give him a sad smile. "I know I'm mental. I
accepted it. I trust you and I still can't drop this thing." I tug the towel
tighter around my shoulders.
    "You
did before."
    "That
was different." I look away. Emotions run through me with an intensity that
makes me want to run into the woods and live with my turkey. I step away from
him, but Peter takes my hand. The connection doesn't break. As long as he's
touching me, it feels like he can see inside my head, and that scares me more
than anything. There are monsters in there, memories I don't want to remember.
    "Why?"
His voice is so soft and kind. It's like cashmere, delicate and enticing. If I
answer him, that voice promises too many things that I thought I'd never have.
My lower lip quivers involuntarily. Peter's gaze fixates on the tiny twitch and
he lifts his hand and presses a finger to my lips. His eyes flick between his
finger and my eyes.
    "Tell
me." His finger slides away, leaving my mouth open and gasping like there's