Chapter Twenty
Dominic
For the last twenty minutes, I’ve stared at our neighbor’s black trashcans. They sit at the end of their driveway, ready for trash day. With five guys and multiple vehicles, our garage and driveway are first come, first served. So, I’m stuck on the street.
‘A mistake.’ I expected her to say it, but I didn’t fully appreciate how completely the words would gut me. They did. The night is a whirlwind–from seeing her dancing with that loser, Gavin, to finding Brock cornering her in the parking lot, to punching him in the face, to her scent and body surrounding me with pleasure. It’s all a blur of images and sensations.
‘A mistake.’ Shit. What did I expect to happen? That’s why I’ve stayed away from her all these years. Not only am I not good enough for her, but I’m also not someone she’s interested in having more than a one-night stand with.
Sure, she enjoyed it. It would be impossible for her to deny that. She’d never had an orgasm while having sex before. She’s not going to forget this night. But the mere thought of her family finding out we were together, and she couldn’t shove me out the door quick enough.
Hell, she didn’t even show me to the door once we were alone again. And now I must spend the rest of my life seeing her live hers. Knowing how it feels to have her in my arms and never having the opportunity again. At least before tonight, I could dream that the possibility existed. Now, I know her answer. It was a mistake.
The lights in the living room snap off, and I shut off the engine. The last thing I want to do is have the walk of shame in front of one of the guys. I’ll get the twenty questions about where I’ve been and who I’ve been doing it with, and I’m too fucking exhausted to come up with a plausible excuse.
When I shut the door behind me, the snap of metal on metal reverberates throughout our still street. A dog from two houses down bellows into the motionless night. The sky is black with a smattering of stars. The streetlight is muted with dirt and needs a new bulb. It’s eerie, like a zombie movie before the monsters turn the corner and descend on you like locusts.
I trudge up the steps to the side door that leads to the kitchen, unlock the door, and shut it behind me.
The light snaps back on. Fuck.
“I wondered how long you were going to stay outside.” Xavier leans his shoulder against the doorway that leads to the dining room. “And then, I thought you might have company.”
“And what? You wanted to watch? Or be invited to join?” My jaw flexes as my hands ball into fists at my sides.
“Don’t be an asshole.”
“I’m alone. As you can see.” Shit. The cut on my knuckles stings as the skin stretches. I relax my fingers to ease the pain. When I was focused on Bella, I didn’t even notice the injury. Now, my skin is taut and swollen. Work is going to be impossible for a few days.
I roll my shoulders. No, I’ll work through the pain. It’s my fault. Not my clients’ fault. And it was worth every second of it. Even though Bella doesn’t have feelings for me, getting rid of Brock once and for all was worth it. I’d risk anything to protect her.
“Yes, you are. And if you acted like this earlier, I see why you’re alone.” He shoves off the wall and marches to the refrigerator, slinging the door open. “Drink?”
“Yes,” I grunt as I rotate my neck, letting it pop to relieve some of the stress that’s built since Bella’s father walked into the kitchen.
I snatch the bottle from his hand, twist it open while blocking out the pain shooting through my hand and up my arm, and guzzle half the contents in one endless swallow. My night was ruined. I might as well get trashed and have a horrible day tomorrow, too.
“Strike out?”
“Kiss my ass.” I finish the beer and lower the glass container on the counter with a thud.
“Dude….” His eyes widen as he swipes the back of his hand over his mouth. “I’ve not seen you this pissed….” He frowns as if he’s thinking. “Ever.” His eyes sweep over me, taking in my disheveled appearance and the cuts on my hand. “Looks like you had a hell of a night.”
“Yeah.” I jerk open the refrigerator, grab another beer, and slump against the white counter. “It was a mess.”
He arches an eyebrow. “I saw you following Brock. I assume that’s who has the matching cuts to your knuckles?”
“He was following Bella, so I knocked the shit out of him, and that was the good part of the night.” I should’ve knocked him out.
I stare into the darkened living room and swallow over the lump in my throat. That’s not true. Being with Bella was perfect. It was the afterward that has me reeling.
Xavier studies me as he drinks his beer. “So….” He drops his arm to his side with the bottle dangling between his fingers. “Let me take a wild stab into the dark to explain your melancholy expression and your winning attitude. You saved Bella from the bad guy, beat him up, she thanked you with amazing sex, and you somehow screwed it up.”
“I didn’t screw anything up.” Fuck. My eyes flutter shut. I just screwed up. If I was going to deny I had sex with Bella, I shouldn’t have walked face-first into the trap.
“Bro….” He smacks me on the shoulder. “You had sex with Bella.”
My eyes snap open, and I fist his T-shirt, drawing him closer. “Keep your mouth shut.”
“Shit.” His eyes are wide as he stares at me in disbelief. “I was joking.” He clears his throat as I release him and steps back. If I punch him, I’ll have to explain to everyone in the house what happened, and I’m not doing that. It’s bad enough that Xavier knows.
I chug my second beer, stomp to the trashcan, and drop it inside. “It was a mistake.”
“Bullshit. I’ve seen your drawings of her. There was no mistake about it.”
“How?” Heat floods every inch of my skin. Son of a bitch. I always kept my room locked and my artwork of Bella hidden away so no one would see them or suspect anything.
“You’re in love with her, and you have been for years,” he says without waiting for my response. “It wasn’t a mistake.” He drops his empty beer bottle on top of mine with a loud thump. If we aren’t careful, the entire house will wake up, and I’ll have the joy of getting my face smashed into a bloody pulp.
I shake my head and exhale. “Those were her words, not mine.”
“Shit.” He cringes. “That’s harsh. But if you need pointers on how to please a–”
“Don’t.” My head pounds with each heartbeat like it’s going to explode and shoot out chunks of my brain in all directions. I step toward the dining room. I’m done drinking because spending all day throwing up is not going to help the situation.
She enjoyed it, didn’t she? The way her body responded. Her desire. Her whimpers. Her orgasms. Yeah, those weren’t fake.
“Then what happened? Because I know she feels the same way about you. It’s impossible for that not to be true.”
“Well, you’re mistaken.” My shoulders are tense as I drag my feet across the floor. It’s too much effort to move. “She thanked me for helping her out, and that’s it.”
“Bella thanked you by letting you fuck her? That’s bullshit. She doesn’t go around screwing everybody that holds the door open for her. If you care about her, then respect her enough for that. She’s not some easy lay.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I spin around, ready to beat the fuck out of him when he raises his hands in defense.
“I’m sorry. I went too far.”
“Yes, you did.” I stomp to the stairs. Fighting him isn’t going to change anything. She isn’t interested. End of story.
Once I lock my bedroom door, I open the closet and sort through my not-so-secret stash of Bella paintings and drawings. I dig through the stacks to find the ones of her under landscapes and other designs that caught my eye over the years. But hers outshine anything else I’ve ever completed.
They capture her in almost every light and mood, except ecstasy. I shove them back against the wall, causing a couple of them to bounce back and smack onto the floor. It’s sick. I rake a hand through my hair, but the need creeps along my skin until I can’t beat back the compulsion.
I jerk off my jacket, throw the half-completed painting of the wildflowers at Schrader’s Garden onto the bed, and pull out a blank canvas.
If she knew, she’d call the police. If any of them knew, I’d be tossed out on my ass. But Xavier knows. My skin tightens. If he knows, who else does?