Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
Skye
I tiptoe to the bathroom and pee for what feels like forever, relief washing through me.
When I quietly go back into his room, reality hits—I only have my dress from last night.
That's not going to work for sneaking back downstairs.
I grab a shirt from his drawer and throw it on.
It reaches just below mid-thigh. This will work until I can change in my room and hopefully go back to sleep for a little longer.
I sneak a glance at Dom, still asleep, looking so peaceful and sexy with the sheet riding low on his waist. Part of me wants to climb back in bed and fuck him again, but my body needs rest, and I need to get back to my room before Harper comes home today.
With my clothes bundled in my arms, I sneak out of his room and quietly make my way down the stairs. The house is silent, peaceful. I've almost made it past the second floor when a door opens and Harper walks out.
She stops in her tracks when she sees me, her mouth open like she was about to say something. Her eyes take me in—sneaking down the stairs in nothing but her dad's shirt, my clothes clutched in my hands, hair so messy there's no denying I've been thoroughly fucked.
"Skye, please tell me you're not sleeping with my dad." Her voice is quiet, almost pleading.
"I, uh—" I start to say, but then look down, not sure what to say. The silence confirms everything.
"Oh my God. You are!" she yells, her volume rising with each word. "How long have you been fucking him?" she demands, eyes flashing with hurt and betrayal.
"I'm sorry," I say, looking back up at her, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. "I didn't mean for it to happen—"
She holds up her hand, stopping me mid-sentence. "Skye, I can't look at you right now. I can't believe you would do this." She's yelling again, her voice echoing through the hallway.
"I'm so sorry," I say, and the floodgates open. Tears spill down my cheeks, hot and uncontrollable. "Harper, I'm so sorry—"
Her gaze suddenly shifts, directing her attention behind me, her expression hardening into a glare.
"What's wrong?" Dom says from behind me, his words dying off when he sees me and Harper standing there, the situation unmistakable. "Fuck. Harper, I'm sorry," he says, his voice heavy.
Harper looks between us, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Seriously? Both of you? Behind my back?"
"It's not what you think," I try, but even to my own ears, the words sound pathetic.
"Really? Because it looks like my best friend is fucking my dad! What exactly am I misunderstanding here?" Her voice cracks on the last word, and I can see tears welling in her eyes.
"Harper, please," Dom says, moving to stand beside me. He's wearing just his sweatpants, his chest bare. "Let's talk about this."
"Talk about what? How long this has been going on? How many times you've been with her while I've been completely clueless?" She turns to me, and the hurt in her eyes cuts deeper than any anger could. "I trusted you. I brought you here. To my home."
"It just happened," I whisper, tears streaming down my face. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"Well, congratulations," she says bitterly. "Mission failed."
Dom steps forward. "Harper, this isn't Skye's fault. If you want to be angry at someone, be angry at me."
"Oh, don't worry," she says, looking between us. "There's plenty of anger to go around."
I take a step toward her, reaching out. "Harper, please—"
"Don't." She backs away from me like my touch might burn her. "I need... I need to not be here right now."
Before either of us can say anything else, she turns and storms back into her room, the door slamming with a finality that makes me flinch.
I stand frozen, staring at her closed door, tears still flowing down my face.
"God damn it," Dom yells behind me, his voice echoing through the hallway. But all I can think about is the hurt look in Harper's eyes—my best friend who I've betrayed in the worst way possible.
"I should have never let this happen," Dom says, and I know he's right, but it hurts when he says it because I know he regrets it. Regrets me.
"I'm sorry," I whisper and begin walking the rest of the way down the stairs. He doesn't stop me, and I didn't expect him to even if I wished he would.
When I get to my room, I lock the door, sink to the floor, and cry.
The sobs wrack my body so hard I can barely breathe.
Harper's face—that look of pure betrayal—plays on repeat in my mind.
I don't know how long I stay like that, huddled against the door, but I know I need to get out of here.
Harper hates me and Dom regrets me. There's nothing left for me in this house.
I finally drag myself to the bathroom to clean my face of tears and snot. My face is so red when I look into the mirror as I brush my teeth—eyes puffy, nose running, cheeks blotchy. I look exactly like what I am: a girl who destroyed everything she cared about.
I grab my bathroom bag from under the sink and pack everything into it with shaking hands.
Back in the bedroom, I flop down on the bed with my phone to book a flight home.
There's a flight out of here in three hours, so I book it without even checking the price.
Money doesn't matter now. I just need to leave.
Then I get dressed. I throw on some panties and jean shorts, then a hoodie over Dom's shirt.
I can't bring myself to take it off yet—his scent still clings to the fabric, and it's the last piece of him I'll have.
I throw my hair up in a messy bun and find a pair of sunglasses to hide my swollen eyes.
I pack my belongings blindly because it's hard to see through the tears that keep coming. Clothes get shoved in without folding, my art supplies dumped into my backpack without organizing. None of it matters anyway.
When I'm done, I order an Uber, then tear out a sketch from my notebook and lay it on the bed. It's one of the drawings I did of Dom. I pick up a pen with trembling fingers and write a note, struggling to find the right words for a goodbye that shouldn't have to happen.
I fold the note in half, write "Dom" on the front, and place it down on the picture. Tears splash onto the paper, making the ink run in tiny rivers.
I grab my luggage and leave my room, closing the door softly behind me. When I reach the front door, I look back into the house one last time. This place was beginning to feel like home, as strange as that is. Now it's just another place I didn't belong.
I shut the door and wait for the car, which shows up minutes later. I put my luggage in the trunk and slip into the back seat.
"To the airport?" the guy asks.
I nod. "Thanks," I say and pull out my phone and earbuds. I put one in and push play on my favorite playlist, letting the music drown out my thoughts. Then I send a text to my mom.
Me: I'm catching a flight back today, I'll be in tonight. Can I stay at home for a while?
Mom: Of course you can! Is everything okay?
Me: No
Mom: What's wrong Hun?
Me: I'll tell you when I see you.
Mom: Okay, be safe on your way home. I love you.
Me: Love you too mom.
I shove my phone back into my carry-on and stare out the window as California passes by in a blur. Everything happened so fast—meeting Dom, falling for him, losing everything. Just like that. Yesterday, I was happy. Now I'm running home with my heart shattered and my best friendship destroyed.
The tears keep coming as the car pulls onto the highway. I don't even try to stop them anymore.
Seven hours later, I'm landing in Pennsylvania, exhausted from crying on and off the entire flight. The woman next to me had given up offering tissues after the first hour and just pretended not to notice. My eyes feel swollen and raw, my throat scratchy from sobbing.
I book another Uber when I land—it's going to cost a fortune to get home, but I wasn't about to ask Mom to pick me up. Not when I'd have to explain why I'm suddenly back, eyes puffy, looking like my world ended. Which it did.
The airport crowds blur around me as I drag my hastily packed bags through the terminal. Everything feels distant, like I'm watching myself from somewhere outside my body.
After what feels like hours, the car pulls up to my home—the small two-story house I grew up in. It looks exactly the same, which somehow makes everything worse. Like the universe is mocking me: see how nothing changed while your entire life fell apart?
I get out and the driver gets out too, helping me with my bags.
"Thank you," I say, my voice still raw from crying.
"You're welcome, miss," he says and gets back in the car. I make sure to tip him extra before going inside, one small kindness in a day that's been nothing but pain.
I haul my bags to the front door and turn the knob, but it's locked, so I knock.
Seconds later Mom is flinging the door open and wrapping me in a hug.
I've kept the tears at bay for hours, but her embrace brings the emotions all back to the surface.
I cry on her shoulder, and she lets me, never asking for answers.
"It's okay, baby," she whispers, stroking my hair. "Whatever it is, it's going to be okay."
But it's not. Nothing about this is okay.
After I compose myself a little, I follow her inside, and she pulls me to the kitchen. She pulls out a tub of strawberry ice cream and we sit in silence as she makes us both bowls. It's our tradition—ice cream for breakups, bad days, and heartache. She's done this since I was little.
She comes around the island and sits beside me. I start eating my ice cream, but the sweet taste reminds me of Dom and I start crying again, tears dripping into the pink dessert.
She rubs my back, and it's soothing, but then Justin walks in and stares at me, his face scrunched in confusion.
"Why are you crying?" he asks directly, in that way he has where social filters don't exist.
"I'm fine," I say, wiping at my eyes.
"But you're crying," he states simply, looking between me and Mom. "Are you and Harper fighting?"
Mom jumps in, her voice gentle. "She's not ready to talk about it. Will you take her luggage up to her room, please? It's in the living room."
"Sure," he says, then looks at me. "I'm glad you're back, even if you're sad. I missed you."
His simple honesty makes me smile despite everything. "I missed you too."
He walks into the living room, and we go back to eating our ice cream in silence. When we finish, Mom grabs our bowls and rinses them out in the sink.
"Come on, let's get you settled," she says, and we go up to my room. She stops at the closet in the hall to get clean sheets.
When we get to my room, I dig in my bags to find something to sleep in. I take off my hoodie and my shorts and put on some comfy pants, realizing I'm still wearing Dom's shirt underneath. I can't bring myself to take it off yet.
I help Mom finish making the bed, and when it's ready, I curl up on top of it. She sits beside me, her hand smoothing my hair like she did when I was little.
"Was it Dominic?" she asks suddenly, surprising me.
My eyes fly up to her. "How..." I start, but she cuts me off.
"I saw the way you two looked at each other on FaceTime," she says softly. "So what happened? Are you two fighting about something?"
"No," I whisper, the words painful to say out loud. "Harper found out. She hates me now, and I'm pretty sure he regrets everything."
"Oh, honey," she says, rubbing my hair. "Just give her some time to deal with it. I'm sure she doesn't hate you."
I shake my head, fresh tears spilling. "You didn't see her face, Mom. She looked at me like I was a stranger. Like I'd betrayed her in the worst way possible."
"And maybe that's how she feels right now," Mom says gently. "But you two have been friends forever. That kind of friendship doesn't just disappear overnight."
"This might be the thing that does it," I whisper. "I slept with her dad. Her dad, Mom."
She sighs. "I know it's complicated, but Harper loves you. When the shock wears off..."
"There's no coming back from this," I cut her off. "And Dom... he said he should have never let it happen. Like it was a mistake. Like I was a mistake."
Mom pulls me closer. "People say things they don't mean when they're upset. Give it time."
I don't tell her that time won't fix this. That I've lost my best friend and the man I was falling for in one terrible moment. Instead, I close my eyes and let her comfort me, knowing that tomorrow won't be any better, but at least I'm home.