Chapter 36 Sloane
Sloane
Now
I ignore his hand as I grab my purse and slide out of the booth, but that doesn’t stop him from placing it on the small of my back and ushering me out of the club like a drunken toddler, which, in all fairness, I kind of am.
By the time we hit the parking lot, I’m teetering on my heels, the alcohol in my system making me struggle to stay upright.
The fourth time I stumble, Dom swoops down and picks me up, and I immediately start to fight against his hold.
“You don’t need to carry me.”
He scoffs. “I’m not watching you break your neck in these ridiculous shoes.”
“Then look at something else!” I kick my legs, and his fingers dig into my thighs. “You don’t get to swoop in like some knight in shining armor, saving me from myself. I didn’t ask you to come here, and I certainly didn’t ask you to carry me around like a damn caveman, so put me down, Dominic!”
He makes a rough sound in the back of his throat, something like disbelief mixing with obvious frustration, but he keeps walking without saying a word.
I fight him every step of the way, thrashing wildly against his body and swatting at his chest until the hem of my dress rides up my thighs.
By the time we make it to the car, I’m exhausted and frustrated, but Dom looks no worse for wear.
He deposits me in the passenger seat and reaches over me to latch my seat belt.
And I’m either too tired or too caught up in absorbing the strong line of his jaw—and the distracting way the muscle in it is jumping—to fight him off.
But as his hands work at securing me in my seat, I don’t breathe a word.
I don’t think I’m breathing at all, because my lungs feel like they are on fire from the lack of oxygen.
The burn is preferable though. Better than inhaling his scent and letting the smooth spiciness of his skin flood my altered senses. Dom turns to look at me, and his eyes are dark and full of shadows when they find mine.
“Wherever you are is where I’ll be,” he says, a deep frown causing his brows to dip inward. “I’ll walk through hell for you, angel. You should know that by now, but I guess you’re too busy healing from our apparent breakup to acknowledge all the ways I’ve shown you.”
He pulls away from me suddenly, slamming the passenger door so hard I jump. By the time he slides into the driver’s seat, I’ve recovered fully from his little speech and am glaring at him with a steady gaze that’s quite impressive for the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed.
“Are you going to break all of our rules before this is done?”
“What rules have I broken, angel?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not spelling it out for you.”
“You will if you want me to respond.”
“I don’t want anything from you, Dominic.
” Except for your heart. I swallow the thought, not wanting him to know I’m desperate enough to take whatever scraps he has left to give, as long as there’s some piece of him that belongs to me.
His gaze hardens, and I know it’s because I keep calling him by his whole name.
“Are we doing this again?”
“No, we’re not doing anything anymore.”
I turn to look out the window, and Dom reverses out of the parking spot with a sigh. Soon we’re sailing down the empty streets of East New Haven toward my house.
“You’re not being fair, angel. I can’t fix this if I don’t know what the problem is.”
“Fine!” I throw my hands up in the air, hating how all of the pain from the last day has managed to bleed into the one word.
“I’m upset, Dominic. Is that what you want to hear?
I’m hurt because I had to find out, from James of all people, that you’ve had an exit plan in your back pocket this entire time.
A one-way ticket out of New Haven and away from—”
“Andre is going to California,” he cuts in, the words balanced on the fine edge of a razor blade. “You would know that if you’d bothered to answer any of my phone calls today.”
“I didn’t want to talk to you.”
“Right, because giving me a chance to explain would probably ruin your plan to push me out of your life for no damn reason.”
“Giving you the chance to…” I roll the words around in my mouth, tasting the bitter irony coating them, and laugh. “You don’t explain things, Dominic. You deflect. You distract. You get up and walk away even if it means breaking your promises.”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “I told you I had to deal with something time-sensitive last night.”
“And maybe you did, but we both know something changed the minute I asked about your tattoo. You left so you didn’t have to lie in my bed and pretend to want me when all you could think about was her.”
I spit the last word at him and then turn my head, so I don’t have to see the moment he realizes all of this—even my reaction about California—is because of an ex whose name I don’t even know.
Because that’s what’s at the root of all of this: jealousy. Hot and bitter jealousy coursing through me, searing my veins because some woman from a million years ago has slipped in between us. Disrupting the steady rhythm we’ve fallen into and derailing my plans to tell him how I feel.
She doesn’t even know it, but she’s stealing precious time from me.
Time I don’t have to spare. Time I need to figure out if it matters that we’re both broken when we make each other feel whole.
Time I’ll have to spend committing every inch of Dom’s body to memory, and soaking in enough of his heat to last me a lifetime, if I can’t ever bring myself to say the things I need to say to find out.
Silence stretches between us, chafing against my skin and making me even more agitated.
“You’re not going to respond to me?”
“I’ll respond when you say something that doesn’t sound like you think I’m cheating on you. We have an arrangement, Sloane. And until you look me in the eyes and tell me it’s over…” His gaze scorches the side of my face, but I don’t turn to meet it. “There is no one else for me.”
I bite my lip, forcing myself to swallow the hope bubbling in my chest. I wish I could believe that, but the look in his eyes last night told me everything I needed to know.
There is someone else out there for him, someone who’s probably a lot less complicated to be with than his best friend’s widow.
“No lies, Dom. That was part of our agreement too, and I don’t know if you even know you’re doing it, but you are lying to me.
Whoever this woman is, she owns you in a way I never could.
And the look you had on your face when I asked you about the tattoo…
I’d know it anywhere. I see it every day when I look in the mirror. ”
Except lately, I’ve been seeing it less and less.
The haunted look of missing a part of my soul has been replaced by joy, happiness, love.
I still can’t believe I did it. That somehow I managed to move aside all the hurt, self-loathing, and thoughts of not deserving happiness to nurture the love blooming in my chest for him. But he doesn’t want it.
“Stop talking, Sloane.”
I scowl at him as he turns into my driveway, the hurt churning in my gut transforming to anger in a split second. As soon as he puts the car in park, I unlatch my seat belt.
“Fuck you, Dominic.”
I hop out and slam the car door, digging my keys out of my purse while his dark laughter rings out behind me. I glance over my shoulder and see him hot on my trail, tracing my clumsy footsteps with his perfectly steady ones.
I’m still struggling to dig out my keys when the heat of his body covers my back, blocking me from the chill in the air. His warm breath skates over my skin as he reaches around me and slides his key in the door.
“Let me.”
The door swings open, and I let out a frustrated groan when he walks in behind me and closes it.
Without another glance in my direction, he heads into the kitchen and starts rummaging through my medicine cabinet, probably searching for something to stave off the headache we both know I’ll have tomorrow.
And instead of being touched by his forethought, I’m pissed off. I want to shout at him, throw something at his head and tell him my impending hangover isn’t his problem, because I’m not his problem anymore.
But instead of doing any of that, I stomp up the stairs and jump in the shower to delay the inevitable. The moment where I’ll have to look at him and say what I’ve known since the shadows in his eyes killed the hope in my heart: this is over.
***
When I’m done with my shower, I towel off and walk back into my bedroom, half expecting Dom to be waiting for me, only to find that I’m completely alone. Again. The silence in the house stretches on endlessly, pressing down on me and knocking loose another shard of my shattered heart.
Exhausted and heartbroken, I crawl into my unmade bed with nothing on. My sheets still smell like Dom; I pull them over me and close my eyes, telling myself not to listen for any sounds that might suggest he’s still here, because they won’t come.
But then the doorknob turns and heavy footfalls that are trying to be soft move toward me, and my stupid, treacherous heart swells with joy and screams, He’s still here! Maybe there’s hope.
I can feel his eyes on me, sweeping over my body for long seconds before he sighs and sets something on the nightstand with a faint click.
For a breathless second, I wait for him to turn and leave.
And my brain and heart are at odds, one wanting him to stay so we can have one last night together and the other hoping he’ll leave because settling for his body when I want his heart is a unique kind of hell.
In the end, the decision is made for me by the rustle of Dom’s clothes as he sheds them and leaves a messy heap on the floor.
By the shifting of the mattress as he climbs into bed beside me.
By the contented sound he makes in the back of his throat when he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me back into his chest.