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He huffs. “You’re not spoiled. What I give you is compensation for what you give me.”

“And what is that?”

He’s quiet while he turns on the tap and fills up the pitcher with fresh water. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “But I think it might be happiness.”

My heart stutters in my chest. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it wasn’t that.

I clear my throat. “Did your parents hover over you when you were sick as a kid?” I ask to change the subject.

Damian’s brow lifts. “Hover?”

I nod, shifting against the curve of the tub. “Yeah. Like constantly check on you. Make you soup. Read books aloud. My dad used to do those things, and I almost liked getting sick because of it.”

Damian scoffs. “My parents never knew when I was sick. I was with the au pair. Or one of the house staff.”

Something twists in my chest. I want to say it sounds like his parents neglected him, but he wouldn’t like that. Instead, I let my fingers trail lightly across the surface of the water.

“There was a man I spent time with as a kid,” he says after a while. “Someone from our organization. He took care of me when I was sick one time. The way you described, I mean.” His throat bobs. “He read to me. I think…I liked being sick then too. I loved his voice when he read.”

I straighten, my chest tightening. He’s telling me this for a reason.

“I loved him.” His hand dips into the water, and he trails his fingers down my arm, pausing at my wrist. “I don’t think he loved me, though. I thought he did. Now…”

I swallow. “Now?”

His jaw tightens. “Now I think he wanted me to love him so he could use me when I got older.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. I sit up straighter, water sloshing at my sides. A slow burn rises in my chest. “Damian, that’s sick.” I can’t stop the words from coming out. “These people are awful.”

He stands up and strides over to the counter. After picking up a glass, he turns on the faucet and fills it with water. “I’m one of them, Ava.”

He strides back to the tub and kneels again, pressing the cool glass into my hand. “Drink. All of it.”

I roll my eyes at his high-handedness and then take a long sip. “You got a text earlier. When the doctor was here.”

His gaze sharpens.

“It bothered you,” I say.

When he doesn’t respond, I narrow my eyes on his face. “I want to know what it said.”

“No. Not while you’re sick.”

“If you want me to go along with your plans, then you have to give me choices. I choose to know, even if it upsets me.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

He’s going to refuse, damn him.

But then he exhales hard through his nose. “My dad invited us to our ranch. In Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Unfortunately, it’s going to be the day after Thanksgiving, which means you won’t be able to go home.”

My stomach churns. My dad and Violet won’t be happy—especially my dad. He’s already worried about how distant I’ve been lately.

But I can’t tell Damian any of that. It’s clear he’s anxious.

“I can give my family an excuse,” I say. “What is this…trip about?”

“He’s having a dinner.” His voice is low. “With Gabriel Wolfe.”