A/N: Hello my dears! We've had quite a journey, haven't we? I know I say this a lot, but I honestly cannot thank you all enough for the encouragement and support you have given, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be venturing out in the scary land of querying agents and publishing houses galore. This is our last official chapter of this story, and I hope you enjoy!

All my devoted love and adoration to my beta, Trogdor19, who is the smartest, coolest, bravest women I've ever had the good fortune of knowing. May horses fall from the sky (landing gently) and make your weekend everything I hope it will be for you.

Enjoy!

Chapter 24: Auto Out

I look out my window, staring at the Prius that's parked a few spots down. I shake my head at myself and pull my keys out of the ignition, putting them in my pocket before I make myself get out of my car.

I should have called her last night.

Instead, I laid there for hours after watching that video, hemming and hawing and debating and pro-conning. I watched it a few more times, looking for any trace of indecision as she told me how she felt, what she was asking for. What she hoped my answer would be. And by the time I figured it out, it was too late.

It was nearly three o'clock in the morning and I know she gets up at six, and I held my phone in my hand and made a whole new pro-con list over whether to call her right then, or just to suck it up and talk to her today. What I really wanted was to go straight over there because I don't want to do this over the phone, but I'd have only ended up waking Caroline and probably their neighbors too, and I'd rather have the privacy to say to Elena what I need to without an audience. Too bad that's what I'll have for the next ten hours.

I head inside the building and everything is a little off, but I'm not sure what it is just yet that's different. The chatter is more intense, voices rattling off claim numbers faster than normal and when I check, the monitors are blaring red with an obscene amount of calls holding. My brow furrows as a message scrolls across the bottom of the screen, telling me that we are in high alert because the other call center has been closed due to an ice storm in their state.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck, this is bad. I half-jog my way towards my desk, Jeremy snagging my attention when I pass him.

"Did you—"

"Yeah, when did they close?" I ask, and he blows out a breath like he's exhausted.

"Three A.M."

I balk. The other site that's based in New England supports seventy-five percent of our after-hours calls, and the majority of our people in Austin don't start until at least eight o'clock. For six hours calls have been steadily backing up, with less than half the usual amount of reps to handle them and we were already screwed because of the storm that's been pounding the upper northeast. People need us right now, and we don't have the staff to give them the support that we promised and they are going to be pissed as all hell. My eyes dart back to the monitors, and my stomach drops as the numbers continue to climb.

Right now, it's not about how much I hate having the same conversation eighty-six times in a row, because that eighty-six needs to be jumped up to about a hundred and twenty before I can begin to make a difference, and that four point two seconds between those two beeps is going to be a gap that's four point one breaths too long.

"They alerted me at about three-thirty, so I came in with the other managers at about four—"

"You've been here since four?" I ask, shocked, and Jeremy nods.

"Yeah, and you know how much we always appreciate—"

"Jeremy," I say strongly so he'll cut the corporate bullshit, and he thankfully does.

"We really need you guys to be on point today, Damon, we need all of you."

"Done."

I clap him on the shoulder, heading speedily down to my desk where Ric and Elena are already talking into their headsets. Elena is still standing, moving around her scrap paper and setting down her purse and when she sees me, she jolts, spilling her coffee all over herself.

"Elena!" I gasp, rushing to take her cup from her as she winces, and I panic, setting it down and horrified that she's literally being burned right in front of me.

"Yes, I can't imagine, that must have been awful," she tells her customer, shaking out her hands and checking over her clothes with a grimace. She mutes her headset as I grab a stack of napkins that I know she keeps in her top desk drawer, and she doesn't flinch or protest when I start to try to soak up some of the mess on her shirt. "Iced," she tells me quickly and I breathe a sigh of relief, but she's still soaked.

"Two seconds," I tell her, and her brow furrows but she still nods, taking the napkins as I turn and head back towards the parking lot, full out running.

"Damon, where—"

"Right back," I call out to Jeremy as I pass by, sprinting out to my car and grabbing the t-shirt from my gym bag that's in the back seat. I unhook two buttons on my shirt and pull it off, tugging on the t-shirt just as I'm swiping my badge at the door, running back to Elena who is typing and talking and dripping with coffee.

I mute her headset. "Take this and go get changed," I say and hand her my button down, ignoring Ric as he gives me a thumbs up from behind her. "I'll take the call."

"Damon, I can't just…"

"Go," I tell her strongly, and she sighs before unmuting her headset.

"Mrs. Sanders, I know, I know…I'm so sorry to do this but I'm going to have an associate take over the call from here forward, he'll take good care of you." She mutes her headset again and takes it off, handing it to me. "Thank you, Damon," she breathes, and I nod towards the break room.

"Get outta here, you smell like a Starbucks and it's making me all antsy." I put on her headset and gently nudge her out my way, sliding her past me so I can take her chair. I unmute her phone and turn towards her screen, quickly scanning the info she's already taken. "Mrs. Sanders, my name is Damon and I'll be helping you from here on out to get your claim reported…"

Elena starts whispering to me all the information about the woman's accident that I can already see right in front of me, and I roll my eyes, muting the phone once more.

"Elena, I can read perfectly fine. What I need is for you to log me into my phone, and then go change your shirt so we can both get to work."

She rushes over to my desk, logging me in just before the seventh minute turns and I get marked for being late. Again. "I'll be right back," she tells me and starts bolting down the aisle towards the women's bathroom, and I wave at her over my head as I copy down all the information Mrs. Sanders is rattling off in my ear.

Today is going to be something else.

I switch into my lunch setting and stretch back, then after a yawn and quick shake of my head I look over towards Elena's desk.

She looks cute as all hell in my navy button down that's way too big for her, tucked neatly into her gray pencil skirt, and she's typing away at a record speed while finishing up a claim.

I haven't spoken to her since I sent her to change shirts, because by the time she got back I was done with the call I took over for her and was back in my own chair, halfway through another one. There hasn't been a second to think all day, let alone tell her that she and I need to talk. To make matters more frustrating, every time one of us goes on break the other one is in the middle of some five car pile-up or with a person who doesn't speak English so every word is being relayed through an interpreter which means it takes four times as long.

But we both now have an hour to regroup in the form of a required lunch break, and any minute she'll be taking off that headset.

"Damon," a voice says and I take a deep breath, then turn and face an even more exhausted looking Jeremy. "You on lunch?"

"Yeah."

"I'd hate to do this to you and I meant to talk to you about this earlier in the week, but do you mind switching into your meeting code?"

Yeah, I do fucking mind. Like you wouldn't believe.

"No problem." I smile tightly, doing as he requests.

I spare one more glance at Elena and get up to follow Jeremy, but instead of him going back to his desk, he leads me towards an empty conference room and yeah, that's not an encouraging sign. I straighten a little when I go inside after he opens the door, preparing myself for whatever this might be, and his manager, Ben, is sitting at the conference table.

"Damon…" He smiles at me, rising to shake my hand, and he looks me over and then lightly laughs. "I don't think I've ever seen you in a t-shirt before."

My eyebrow quirks. Dick. "Yeah," I say and clear my throat. "Coffee mishap."

"Well, no worries. Have a seat."

I peek at the stack of papers in front of him, and I can't believe they're doing this to me right now. Jeremy better feel like the biggest prick on the planet for not warning me beforehand, and I know it's stupid, but I really hate the fact that I'm wearing a shitty old t-shirt for this. Because yeah, that just reeks of professionalism.

"So…" Ben starts, and I lean back in my seat casually, trying to pull this together. Because the only thing going through my mind is wondering how long this is going to take so I can try to see Elena before she's done with her lunch break, and thinking about that is not exactly conducive to the confident attitude that I need to be giving these two assholes.

"Did we want to wait for…?" Jeremy says, and when I turn to look at him, I see out of the corner of my eye as Ben points at him in agreement.

"Yeah, she should—"

"Sorry I'm late," a female voice says when the conference room door suddenly opens, and my eyes widen a little when I see that it's the supervisor for the trainer I'm trying to replace and shit.

We all stand and shake the manager's hand, Ben thankfully introducing me to her because I can't for the life of me remember her name, and then the game begins as we all take our seats.

And I swear to God, if I could, I would kick Jeremy's ass ten times for springing this on me. Because it's a grueling hour and a half of interview questions disguised as friendly chit chat, but this woman is watching me like I'm an overweight bearded guy shaking a bag of candy at kids on a playground, and she is scribbling furiously on her legal pad at everything that comes out of my mouth.

Why I want to switch departments, where I see myself in five years with the company, if I've ever assisted my peers with the process on taking claims. She looked over a sheet that Jeremy produced which was a rundown of my stats and attendance record, and then she actually wanted to listen to a few of my calls, which was the icing on the cake. Listening to a recording of yourself having a seven minute conversation with a customer, played back to you in front of three members of management? Not exactly a stress reliever, or you know, fucking awkward or anything.

I'm about at my wits' end with this woman and with Jeremy and Ben and with my stupid ass clothes and I'm goddamn starving and we're too busy to be doing this shit right now anyway.

They finally free me from the confines of the conference room with the standard promise that they'll follow up with me next week because things are going to be shifting around a little sooner than they expected, but whether I'm shifting with them, I have no idea. Awesome. Let's just tack that onto the overall suckiness of today.

Elena is on a call when I get back to my desk, of course, and after I grab my keys from my drawer so I can go get something to eat, I see that she's waving me over. I tilt my head, and when I stop by her chair she's writing down something on her piece of scrap paper, her voice never faltering in the string of questions she's asking her customer.

Everything okay?

I crouch down next to her, writing her back.

Fine. Surprise interview.

Did you get the job?

I look at her and shrug, and she rolls her eyes with a smile like I'm being modest or something. Right. I pick her pen back up, writing another note.

Can you take a break?

Can't. Leaving for the day as soon as I get done with this call and I'm already late.

My brow furrows, and when I look at her, she makes a motion like a silent sigh.

Dr.'s appointment.

My stomach twists and pulse skyrockets, and of course this shit is happening today of all fucking days. Suddenly her assurance in the bathroom of the gym that she isn't pregnant is looking like that might have been a little preemptive, or maybe just wishful thinking, and she must know exactly what's happening to my heart rate because she immediately calls me on it.

Damon, I'm sure it's fine, but I just want to make sure. Okay?

When will you know?

Right away.

I write down my phone number, and she startles a little.

Text me.

"Okay," she mouths at me, and I stand up, heading out to the parking lot.

I almost bum a cigarette off a smoker in the hopes that at least some nicotine will help get me under control before I go completely bat shit insane, because it's not like I can go to a bar on my lunch break, despite how badly I need a drink right now. But just as I'm about to light it, I remember that I have to see my mom tonight and I don't need her bitching at me about smoking. I curse and throw the cigarette away, and my hands are still shaking and my head is spinning as I walk to my car, and all I can think is that I'm such an asshole.

I should have talked to Elena more, said something supportive. Offered to go with her or anything other than just basically run the fuck away.

Christ, we don't need this when everything else is already such a mess.

The rest of the day is a blur. Call after call after call, and I don't remember a single detail of any of the dozens of claims I took. What I know is that at five forty-seven my cell phone lit up with a text from a number that I know as well as my own.

It took me another ten minutes before I finally got the balls to make myself go on break, ducking into the same conference room I was in earlier. I sat in same chair where I hid after that panic attack that sent me barreling towards the men's room, when Elena tried to cheer me up by drawing me that hideous unicorn. And I took a long, deep breath before I finally opened the message.

Don't trade in the Charger for a minivan just yet ;)

My breath got strangled in my throat, and I think I stared at those words for five minutes without blinking.

Negative. Non. False. All things anti-positive. And that's what it felt like. Anti-positive. Which makes no goddamn sense because do I even want kids? No. At least, I never did before. So it should have been a wave of relief to hear that Elena wasn't pregnant, and I can't figure out why I felt the strangest pang of disappointment. That's just ludicrous.

But, if I'm being very, very honest, I know it's because I tried to prepare myself for the idea that she was. And that entails playing it all out in my head so I was ready for any scenario, imagining what that life would look like for me and for her and for us, as an unbreakable always, and it's fucking terrifying but it's also…

It doesn't matter. Because it's not happening.

I finally pulled my shit together and texted her back.

Like I would ever sell my car.

No response.

No surprise though, because I realized that smirks and sarcasm don't translate across texts and I probably sounded like a total douchebag and I should have known better. Because I've seen the look she gets every time someone we work with shows up with a round belly, and I watched her gush and melt all over the owner of the driving range when he told her his wife was expecting.

Elena's emotions are about twenty times more sensitive than mine, so if I wasn't exactly feeling like celebrating, God only knows how she was doing. So I manned up and asked.

You okay?

It took her a minute to respond, and when she did, I couldn't stop wishing that I was with her right then so I could see the truth in her eyes instead of having the world's most complicated conversation through a touch screen keypad.

Sure.

Yeah, that's real convincing. And I was halfway through typing another message when she beat me to it.

Are you okay?

I huffed out a breath, chuckling humorlessly and shaking my head.

Sure.

Neither of us said anything after that, and the silence felt like it was saying everything. Because we both knew the reality of the situation, and we apparently weren't going to say it.

I put my phone in my pocket and went back to my desk, diving headfirst into more claims and listening to people tell me all about their problems. How their car was wrecked and they can't get to work and there's no one to pick up their kids from day care and how they didn't need this on top of everything else that's happening in their lives. And normally I can take their stress and place it on myself, make it a little more manageable, and then give it back. But it wasn't working.

Every problem, every crisis, just piled on top of the ones I already had sitting on my shoulders and when I finally finished my last call at a quarter after eight, the weight didn't disappear. It just became heavier.

My brittle and strained semi-relationship with Elena. The way it felt like someone had just punched me in the gut and stole the future I never realized I wanted. The battering call volume that just wouldn't fucking stop while worrying over how my interview went, if I'm actually going to get the only job that I've ever cared enough to reach for. What it's going to mean for me and Elena if I do get it, or if that even matters because I haven't heard another word out of her since that last text message. Probably because I was so caught up in everything else today that I never even acknowledged that she poured her heart out to me.

She probably thinks I just threw the video away without bothering to watch it.

I swallow regret and self-loathing and close out my computer for the day, grumbling my thanks to Ric when he pauses in the middle of a call to get my attention, and then doesn't say anything except to give me a look that speaks clearly of nine years of brotherhood. I head outside to my car and collapse exhaustedly in my seat, my head falling back against the headrest and all I want is for everything to just stop for a second so I can breathe and then figure out what to do.

But my phone immediately starts buzzing in my pocket, and I dig it out because I already know exactly who's calling and her timing couldn't be worse, although I should have expected it because she's right on the minute. Probably to the second if I was paying closer attention. I confirm it's her and pinch my eyes shut, my hand clenching my phone too tight.

I answer the call, putting the phone to my ear. "Hey, Mom."

"Happy Birthday, baby!" she screeches cheerfully, loud enough that I reflexively pull the phone away before I bring it back. "Did you know that exactly twenty-five years ago…" my mom starts and I set the phone to speaker, the hard plastic dangling carelessly from my fingertips as my wrist hinges over the steering wheel, tuning her out because it's the same story every single year.

I lean my elbow against the door, my head propped in my other hand as she continues telling me how she was doped on Demerol and how they couldn't get me to cry because I was flirting with the nurses, but that I finally flipped my shit when they put Devon in an incubator because he was having trouble breathing and my eyes start watering and I try to keep my breaths steady, but they're not. They're just not.

It's too much at once: all of this stuff with Elena plus the stress of the last few weeks and it's today, and I hate my birthday because Devon's not here and it feels unequivocally fucked up to be happy when I'm alive and he's dead and my mom doesn't get that at all, and I can't even tell her that because she wants to rejoice in the one son that she still has and I know I need to suck it up.

And I usually can, but not tonight.

The passenger door suddenly opens and my head whips to the side, a strangled breath escaping me when Elena slides in and quietly shuts the door. She's still wearing my navy button down and her gray pencil skirt, but she's in flip flops and her toes are painted hot pink and I can't believe she came back up to the office tonight.

Her face falls when she sees mine, and then she glances down to the phone resting in my hand where my mom is still rattling off my birth story with cheerful obliviousness. Elena's eyes dart up to mine and I look away, because I know she sees in them all the things that I wish she didn't. She always has.

"Damon, are you there? Did I lose you, birthday boy?" my mom asks when she's finally done and I clear my throat, but my voice is still wrecked when I speak.

"Yeah, I'm here," I tell her, and Elena gently takes the phone out of my hand.

"Anita?" Elena says calmly, and she must have switched it off speaker because my mom's voice doesn't return. "Hey, I'm so sorry, we're still stuck at work and Damon says he's sorry but he's real busy and he had to go real quick and…of course, I'll tell him. Okay…okay, bye."

I hear the sound of my phone sliding into the cup holder and then slim fingers find my right hand, tangling through mine and squeezing tightly as she covers them with her other palm.

"She says she loves you, and she'll see you soon," Elena says quietly and I don't say anything, just trying to get myself under control. "God, Damon, I can't imagine how hard today must have been for you—"

"Don't," I choke out, shaking my head.

She doesn't say anything after that, just holding my hand supportively as I rest my head in my other, as though we're giving a moment of silence to those we've lost.

I'm not sure why I'm so shocked that she just got it, right away, all the reasons why even if everything else had gone perfectly, today still would have been horrible. And I don't know how I'll ever tell her what it means to me that she's not trying to talk me out of being irrational or trying to make me feel better, or even ignoring that she knows I'm spiraling so she can say the standard well-wishing words anyway.

What I do know is that I can't imagine ever being exposed like this with anyone else but her, and I don't want to. So I clear my throat again and scrub my free hand over my face, taking a controlled breath before I turn to look at her.

"Today has been a fucking nightmare, so this is going to be blunt," I say simply, and she nods, her eyes scared and unsure. I squeeze her hand and carefully reach over to cup her face with my other, pieces of me sealing back together when she leans into my touch. I sweep my thumb over her cheek, the corner of my mouth turning up. "Do you still have your baton leotard?"

A laugh trickles out of her, and without another word between us I lean over and press my mouth to hers, kissing her as fiercely as I need to. My arms lock around her delicate frame tighter than I know I should, but my emotions are far past raw and I've missed her like crazy, firmly losing all sense of time-and-place-appropriate when I catch my first taste of peppermint.

And either she's as starved for this as I am or she just always knows what I need, but the next thing I know is that she's crawling over the console and sitting in my lap; her back against my door as my palm smoothes up her long legs stretched out into the passenger seat, goosebumps rising on her skin under my touch. But her lips are soft and tender, lovingly sweet as her fingertips faintly trace the line of my jaw, her mouth lingering for a moment too long between breaths as she smiles against my lips and I never want to leave this car.

"Does this mean you watched it?" she whispers against my mouth, and I nod, lifting another kiss from her lips because I'll never get enough.

"You think we'd be doing this right now if I didn't?"

She pulls back just enough to playfully arch an eyebrow at me. "Possibly."

"You're such a smartass," I growl, tickling her side and loving the sound of her giggles as they echo around us. But too soon they calm and very gently, she takes my face in her hands and leans her forehead to mine.

"I need to tell you something," she whispers, and my brow furrows as I nod. She blows out a breath and it feels as though pain and regret are pouring from her body straight into mine, and I tighten my grip on her, caressing any part of her skin that I can reach.

She's hurt enough for ten lifetimes over and I won't let it happen again.

"Everything is going to be fine, Elena," I assure her, and she shakes her head.

"I'm so sorry," she breathes and my eyes pinch closed. "I mean it, Damon. You, us, are everything that I want, the only thing that matters."

I barely manage to nod and she strokes her thumbs over my cheekbones, leaning back to look into my eyes.

"I love you," she promises fiercely, and a breath escapes me.

I don't know if I've ever believed three words from her more.

I feel my mouth curve into a wide grin, and she bites her lip with a blush while I tenderly tuck her hair behind her ear. I lean my forehead back to hers, taking just a moment to soak her in before very slowly, I shift so I can breathe into her lips the words I've never said to anyone else, and I already know, I never will.

A shiver races through her body as she kisses me more passionately than she's ever dared before, her moans rumbling over my tongue and down my throat, and I'm seriously debating ripping the seam on her skirt and making use of the backseat in the best way I can think of when there's suddenly a knock on my driver's door window that startles the holy fuck out of me.

Elena immediately squeaks and jumps at the sound of being busted like we're sixteen all over again, tucking her face into my neck in embarrassment. I roll down my window, but instead of a rent-a-cop uniform greeting me and telling us to take it somewhere else, it's Ric's face, an eyebrow arched as he shakes his head.

"Really? In the parking lot?" he pretends to admonish, and I flip him off.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"You left your phone on Auto In, dipshit," he says while grinning at me. "Those calls have been rolling in one after one while you've been out here playing It's My Party and I'll Be Indecent If I Want To."

"Then do me a favor and go log me out," I tell him, and he bows. Elena peeks up at me and with my eyes locked on hers, I drop my voice and add dramatically, "'Cause I'm outta the game."

Her whole body starts shaking with laughter. "Smooth," she tells me, and I wink.

"It was smooth," I agree smugly, then start stroking my fingertips up her leg. "You know what else is smooth?" I smirk and flare my eyes, and she giggles adorably.

"And on that note…" Ric mumbles and starts to walk away, and Elena just steadily shakes her head at me with a smile.

"You ready to go to your mom's?" she asks, and I nod.

"Yeah. But we're not staying any longer than strictly necessary, and none of this 'I get to see your baby pictures since I showed you mine' stuff."

"Where's the fun in that?" she teases, and when I arch an eyebrow at her, she kisses me once more before wiggling her way back into her seat.

"The real fun is going to happen when I finally get you home, because I'm going to show you how one is supposed to play doctor."

She fumbles buckling her seatbelt, blushing deeply, and I laugh and dodge from her half-hearted swat at my arm. Once she's done calling me a jerk and she's snuggled up comfortably like the passenger seat was made just for her, I pick up my phone, calling my mom back as I begin getting us out of the parking lot.

"Hello, birthday boy!" she says all excited when she answers, and I roll my eyes, switching my phone to my other ear so I can hold it with my shoulder.

I reach over and tangle my fingers through Elena's, bringing them up to kiss the back of her hand before I place her palm on my shifter, snugly under mine.

"Tell me you have lettuce…"

A/N: And there it is! Love you all and see you guys this weekend with the epilogue! *blows kisses*

-Goldnox