Chapter 7
SEVEN
ANNA
I've just been snuggling with Domhn in the back seat for the last half hour when the car suddenly pulls into the near-empty parking lot of a twenty-four-hour roadside diner.
The kind of place that looks like it's been here forever—chrome trim, red vinyl booths, a faded sign promising 'The Best Pie in Town.
' It's quiet, warm light spilling onto the pavement, a stark contrast to the electric chaos of Six Flags.
I sit up and look at Domhn. "What are we doing here?"
"I messaged Charles to pull over here. We can't pass up the best pie in town. I thought we could stop for a bit." His thumb massages my hand. "Just you and me."
My heart flutters at his intimate touch. I know what he's doing. He wants to make sure I don't feel neglected after he's spent the day with Mads. I grin, touched by his thoughtfulness.
"Well, what are we waiting for?"
I scoot out of the car, and he follows, large hand enveloping mine as we walk across the dark parking lot, the neon 24-Hour Diner sign glaring overhead.
Inside, the scent of coffee and fried food envelops me like a well-worn quilt.
It's nostalgic, a hug of a place. A waitress with tired eyes and a nametag that reads 'Connie' gestures us to a booth by the window.
It's almost empty, just a trucker nursing a cup of coffee at the counter and an elderly couple sharing a slice of pie in companionable silence.
Domhnall slides into the booth across from me, stretching his long legs out comfortably. I take my seat, smoothing my hands over the freshly wiped-down table. There's something grounding about it—the imperfections, the warmth.
Domhn's taken me to the most upscale restaurants all over Dallas, but this is the first place I feel like I can actually breathe and be myself. Did he sense that's what I needed tonight? How can he be so perfect when I'm—
"Two coffees?" Connie asks, already scribbling on her pad.
Domhnall nods. "And a slice of whatever pie's best tonight."
She grins. "Apple's fresh."
"That'll do."
When she walks away, I trace the edge of a sugar packet between my fingers, trying to hold onto something small and simple. But Domhnall's looking at me, really looking, and I can feel the weight of his patience.
"You had fun today," he says, his voice gentle but firm.
I meet his gaze, and for a second, I think about brushing it off. But the truth is, I did have fun.
For once, the memories aren't shut off by a wall of blankness like sometimes happens when Mads takes over.
I don't know if it's intentional on her part.
There are no hard and fast rules to this, and the more time I spend in therapy, the more muddled everything gets.
This morning was wild—actually talking to Mads in the same conscious time and space.
"I did," I admit. "More than I thought I would."
His smile softens something in me.
"I was proud of you," he says, his voice quiet but steady. "You let go."
I let out a slow breath, shaking my head. "Mads let go. I just… stepped in afterward."
The words taste bitter, and regret coils low in my stomach. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining. But Domhnall doesn't look surprised. He looks like he's been waiting for me to say that.
"Anna," he says, voice low, coaxing. "What is Mads so afraid of?"
I flinch, not because I don't know, but because I do.
"She's afraid you won't ever really love her," I whisper.
He exhales sharply, his fingers flexing on the table like he wants to reach for me but isn't sure if he should. "That's not true."
I look down at my hands, where I've crumpled the sugar packet into something unrecognizable. "Maybe not. But she believes it is."
Connie reappears, setting down two steaming cups of coffee and two plates with golden slices of apple pie. Neither of us moves to touch them.
Domhnall leans forward, his forearms braced on the table. "And what about you?"
I hesitate, reaching for the warm ceramic mug in front of me. "What about me?"
Does he mean what am I afraid of? I'm afraid of everything. I'm afraid of my nightmares. I'm afraid of my memories. I'm scared that when I wake up each morning, I won't find myself by his side anymore. I'm afraid I'll lose this amazing new life. I'm terrified of what a little weakling I am.
But instead, Domhnall asks, "What do you want, Anna?"
The words land like a blow, unexpected and too direct. I never think about what I want. It feels too dangerous to dare.
My breath hitches, and I press my palms flat against the warm ceramic of my mug, grounding myself. My therapist tells me to pay attention to my body when I don't have the words. So I do.
There's a tightness in my chest, a weight between my ribs. A held breath that I didn't even realize I was holding.
But Donny's asking, so maybe for him, I'll try. Just this once.
"I want…" I close my eyes, feeling the warmth seep into my hands.
Let the sensation anchor you. "I want what I always wanted—family.
And to feel safe. I want to know I don't have to earn love by being careful.
I don't always want to be the one who fixes everything.
" My voice wobbles, and I take a shaky breath.
"I want to be wanted for who I am, not just because I make things easier. "
Domhnall doesn't speak right away. He just watches me, his gaze heavy with something unreadable. Then, slowly, he reaches across the table, his fingers curling around mine.
"You have family now," he says, his voice rough. "You have me. I love you, Anna."
I swallow hard. "I know you love me. I do. But sometimes, I wonder if you love me because—because I'm this shard from your past, that's chaos, that you just hold onto out of habit." Then I tell the last, absolute truth out of the worst of my fears. "Because you feel guilty."
His grip tightens. "That's not it."
"Then what is it?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He exhales, his thumb stroking over the back of my hand.
"Yes, I love you because no matter where life has taken us, you've been there—woven into every part of my past, my present, my fucking soul.
You taught me what the word love means. But I also love you because you see me.
The real me. You let me be the man I always wanted to be.
" He exhales. "You aren't just someone who fits into my world, Anna. You are my world."
Tears prick at the back of my eyes, and I squeeze his hand like it's the only thing keeping me here, in this moment.
"I want to believe that." My voice trembles.
"You don't have to believe it all at once," he murmurs. "Just start with this." He lifts our joined hands slightly. "With me. Right here."
I stare at him for a long moment, something fragile cracking open inside straight down the center of me. I want everything he says, but hope is still so… strange. So foreign to me. But Domhnall is real, and for now, I'm staying grounded in my body, here with him.
Maybe, for now, that's enough.
I finally dig into the pie, and my eyes close at how fucking delicious it is.
Oh my god, I've lived all over the world, and nobody does pie like here in Texas.
The streusel crumble on top, the sweet apples, the perfect pastry crust. I sink into the pie between sips of hot coffee that Connie comes over to refill so it's constantly fresh.
The bite of the black coffee's bitterness against the sweetness of the pie is absolute perfection.
When I glance over at Domhn, it's to find his pie untouched, his eyes on me.
I'd feel embarrassed, but there's a last bite of my pie left to enjoy, so I stick it in my mouth with absolute abandon.
"We're taking my piece to go," Domhn growls. "I want to watch you eat it at home."
I giggle as I wash down the pie with the last of my coffee. "Don't be ridiculous." I wipe my mouth with my napkin. "It's a sin not to enjoy that fucking pie."
"Oh, I'm enjoying myself." His nostrils flare in a way that makes my belly flip. "Believe me."
Heat rushes my face, making my scalp tingle. "I've got to go to the bathroom," I squeak, shooting out from my side of the booth. "Be right back!"
Then I'm bounding across the length of the diner and down the hallway where the restroom sign directed, still feeling flushed all over. As soon as I'm in the stall, I run my hands down my face.
Oh my god. Am I seriously going to literally run the fuck away every time Domhn so much as flirts with me?
I'm just enjoying my time with him so much, I don't want to switch suddenly because he's got me hot and bothered, and it freaks me out for some stupid reason I don't even understand. I finish in the bathroom, then go wash my hands.
The face that looks back at me is sun-kissed.
I shake my head at her. Today was fun, sure, but good Lord. Mads can't handle emotional intimacy, and I can't handle physical intimacy.
"What a pair we make," I whisper to the mirror. "Hello? You there?"
Mads doesn't answer back.