44. Dominic
CHAPTER 44
Dominic
I’LL WAIT
19 YEARS OLD
T hey say time heals all wounds, but whoever came up with that was either delusional or had a hell of a lot more patience than I do.
The last month has been the slowest, most agonizing stretch of time in my life. Ever since Ellie ended things, it’s like I’ve been moving in slow motion, trapped in a fog so thick I can barely see in front of me. The sun rises and sun sets, the world keeps turning, but I’m stuck. Stuck in the exact moment she told me we were over. I can’t focus, can’t make sense of anything. Everything feels hollow. Ellie isn’t just in my thoughts; she’s everywhere. In every song on the radio, every laugh I hear in passing, every memory that surfaces when I least expect it. And at night, when I close my eyes, she’s waiting for me. Her face lingers, haunting and comforting all at once. And the worst part? I crave it. I ache for those moments when I can see her again, even if it’s only in the fragile space between waking and dreaming.
If losing Ellie wasn’t enough, life decided to hit me with another punch to the gut. A week after everything fell apart, my parents dropped the news; they sold the house. The house I grew up in, the one they promised they’d never leave. Now they’re packing up and moving to Arizona. Which leaves me with one final trip to Red Mountain, one last chance to get my things—and maybe get Ellie back.
That’s how I ended up here, pacing the driveway of the Ledger family home like some kind of stalker. For an hour now, I’ve been working up the nerve to knock on the door. My heart’s racing, my palms are sweating, and every logical part of my brain is screaming at me to turn around and leave. But I can’t. I can feel her here, like she’s an extension of me. It’s irrational, I know, but it’s the kind of irrational that makes me certain I can’t give up just yet.
Before I can convince myself to act—or run—the front door swings open. Leanne steps out like she’s been watching this pathetic display long enough. She walks toward me with purpose, and I freeze, rooted to the spot like a kid caught stealing cookies before dinner.
“I take it you’re here for Elyse,” she says. It’s not a question.
I nod, shoving my hands deep into my pockets to hide the nervous tremor. My eyes flick to the upstairs window, where the curtain sways ever so slightly, as if someone had just been there.
“She doesn’t want to see me, does she?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
Leanne doesn’t answer right away. Instead, her smile fades, replaced by a look of pity that twists something deep in my chest. “Come on,” she says, nodding toward a stone bench overlooking the vineyards. “Let’s sit for a minute.”
Reluctantly, I follow her, the crunch of gravel beneath our feet the only sound. The view from the bench is beautiful, the hills stretching out endlessly, rows of grapevines glowing under the afternoon sun. But I can’t appreciate it. Not when I’m this close to the only person who can tell me what the hell went wrong.
Leanne waits a beat before speaking. “I’m sure this feels like the end of the world, but I promise you, it’s not.”
“She’s my world.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “I love her, Leanne. I don’t think I’ll ever stop. I just—I don’t know what I did wrong. If I knew, I’d fix it. I’d do anything.”
She smiles gently, her gaze softening. “Oh, honey, I know you love her. And don’t doubt for a second that she loves you, too. Watching the two of you fall in love has been one of the greatest joys of my life.
“Elyse has always been fiercely independent, almost to a fault. She’s never been one to lean on anyone, not even me. But with you? She lets you in. That’s not something she does lightly.”
“Then why did she breakup with me?” I hate how raw I sound, how pathetic.
“She’s going through something right now.” Her hand reaches out to give mine a reassuring squeeze. “She needs time to figure things out on her own. It’s not my place to say, but one day she’ll tell you—explain everything. But that doesn’t mean you need to wait around, holding your breath. You’ve got dreams, a future ahead of you. Don’t let this define you.”
“But the only future I want is one with her in it.”
“I know,” she says with a breath. “But sometimes the best thing we can do for the people we love is to give them the space they need.”
“What if I lose her? What if she meets someone else, gets married, and forgets all about me?”
Leanne lets out a wistful sigh. “I can’t predict the future, but I do know this; a love like what you two have is special. And if it’s meant to be, life has a way of working things out. But you can’t put your life on hold waiting for that day to come.”
I glance back at the house, at the window where the curtain is now still, and feel the weight of her words settle on my shoulders.
“My parents sold the house,” I say quietly. “Once they move, I won’t have any reason to come back here.”
Leanne smiles gently. “You’ll always have a reason to come back. But for now, give her the time she needs. Trust that what’s meant to be will find its way.”
And though her words offer a glimmer of comfort, the ache in my chest remains. Because the truth is, letting go—even temporarily—feels impossible.
I drag myself back to my car, gravel dragging beneath my feet like nails on a chalkboard. The sun dips lower on the horizon as I drive away from the Ledger house, the sprawling vineyards slowly giving way to the open road. My chest tightens the farther I get, the view of her home shrinking in the rearview mirror until it disappears entirely.
The house I grew up in, just down the hill and around, isn’t much farther, but I drive the longest way possible. Not ready to face reality. When I left, my parents were busy sorting and boxing up their lives, ready to leave behind every corner of this place that feels stitched into me. It’s unsettling, how easily they can move on while I’m here, stuck in this cycle of waiting and wondering if I’ll ever be able to let her go.
By the time I pull into the driveway, the pain in my chest is unbearable. The old porch light flickers as I step inside, every creak of the floorboards grating at me. My room is almost bare now, stripped of the posters and awards and pictures that used to litter the walls. All that’s left are a few boxes stacked in the corner, waiting to be loaded into the back of my car.
I toss my keys onto the dresser and collapse onto the edge of my bed. The silence in the house feels deafening. My parents must be in their room, too tired from packing to notice I’ve come in. I’m not in the mood to talk to either of them anyway, still pissed they’re selling the house.
My phone sits heavy in my hand, my thumb hovering over Ellie’s name . I’ve stared at her contact photo so much lately it’s seared into my brain. It’s a selfie she took at the beach last summer. I couldn’t stop staring at her then, and I can’t stop now.
The rational part of me knows I shouldn’t call. That I’ve already done enough. But my heart is louder than my head tonight, and before I can stop myself, I hit the call button.
It rings once. Twice. Three times. My breath catches when the line clicks, but it’s not her. It’s her voicemail.
“Hi, this is Elyse. I never check this, leave a message at your own risk.”
The tone beeps, and for a moment, I can’t speak. My throat feels thick, my thoughts racing, but then the words pour out like a flood.
“Ellie, it’s me. Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, and I get that. I do. I just…I wanted to say that I’ll respect your wishes. If you need space, I’ll give it to you. I’ll leave you alone. But I’m not giving up on us. I can’t. I don’t care if it takes years, querida mía. I don’t care how long it takes. One day, when you’re ready, I’ll be here. Waiting. Because you’re it for me. You’ve always been it.”
My voice breaks, defeated. I’m way past trying to mask it from her. I hate the way the silence on the other end makes me feel like I’m talking to a ghost. But I keep going, because this might be my only chance to lay it all on the line.
“You’re my future, Ellie girl. You always have been. And even if I have to let you go for now, I’m not letting go forever. I love you. I just…I needed you to know that.”
I end the call before I can say anything else, dropping the phone onto the bed beside me. The room feels too small, too quiet, and I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to hold myself together.
I know I said I’d leave her alone, and I will. But as much as it hurts to walk away, I meant what I said. I’ll wait. For her, for us, for whatever the future holds. Because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that she’s worth it, no matter how long it takes.