Chapter 5 #2
Which is perfect—less time to second guess or overthink. Regardless of whatever happens while Dominic and I are in the same town, I need to give him this letter. Not for his sake but for mine.
So I hop in my car and turn around in the driveway before clanking out into the perfect suburban street, where my once-perfect suburban family lived a perfect suburban life.
I don’t glance over my shoulder or even in the rearview mirror, because when trying to move forward, there’s no point in looking back.
I just pat the envelope in the front seat with one nervous hand, like the letter is a living creature.
It feels alive.
The grid of suburban streets takes me into town and then spits me out of the other side, where I drive through increasingly rural patchwork parcels of land until my phone tells me I’m almost to my destination.
I turn down a dirt lane, and several moments later, I find myself pulling up to a white, two-story farmhouse.
When I grab the envelope next to me, it feels heavier in my hand than it did before.
Then I exit the car—cautiously, because I don’t actually know where I am, and despite Dominic’s claim that he’s here, I don’t see him.
My shoulders settle with relief, though, when I hear the unmistakable sound of carpentry from the other side of the house; I head that direction, my shoes scuffing the dirt as I walk.
When I’ve rounded the house, I emerge into an open space.
I spot Dominic immediately, but he’s not alone.
Bennett Walker is here, too—who I know only slightly because he and Dom grew up together, but I think they really became friends after high school.
The two of them are clearly hard at work; I move closer, taking advantage of the fact that they haven’t spotted me yet—
And hello.
The sun glinting off one of Alvina’s diamond rings is nothing compared to the shirtless, glistening, sweaty torsos of the men in front of me.
There are abs and golden skin and gritty smudges of dirt on display as Dominic and Ben move around the area.
If this were a movie, they’d be walking in slow motion.
Sexy music would be playing in the background.
Then we would all pause, rewind, and watch the scene again.
Ben is a good-looking guy, with dark hair and a bit of scruff, but it’s to Dominic that my eyes are pulled.
He twirls a hammer in his hand as he tromps toward the porch of the house, his strides long and sure.
He crouches down by a spot of latticework, the ground already littered with a few other tools, and then he gets to work.
“You,” I inform myself as I fan my face, “are a lecher.”
My voice is what finally alerts them to my presence. Dom’s hammer stops mid-swing, his head lifting, and Bennett turns to look at me.
Judging by Ben’s surprise, he didn’t know I was coming.
“Hi,” I say lamely, giving him a little wave.
He waves back, an awkward, belated motion. Then he turns to look at Dom, as do I.
Dominic does not wave. He does stand up, though, which is something. His body unfolds slowly, and he tosses the hammer to the ground, wiping his forehead and adjusting a necklace I hadn’t noticed before. He puts his hands on his hips as I approach.
Pinnacle of feminine virtue that I am, I do not notice his low-slung jeans or the muscular planes of his chest or the tiny trickle of sweat that’s trailing over his collarbone.
I might scowl a little when I see the look of smug amusement on his face.
“I wasn’t staring,” I say quickly.
But Dom’s lips hook into a skeptical smirk even as he shrugs. “I didn’t say anything.”
My fingers clench more tightly around the letter, which at this point probably has a sweaty handprint on it. I force myself to close the distance between us until I’ve reached him, and then I hold the letter out.
His smirk fades, and because he’s shirtless, I can see his muscles tense. “What’s this?” he says, his eyes dropping to the envelope.
I swallow and try to get my hand to stop shaking. It does not work.
“It’s a letter.”
He gives me a slow nod, his brows lifting. “I can see that. I mean, what’s in it?”
My heart. My regret.
“Just—some things,” I say instead. “That would be good to get out of the way if we’re living in the same town.” I pause. “Is this your house?”
“No.” A beat of silence, and then Dom goes on, “I moved into a place over off of First.”
I nod. Then I wave the letter more insistently at him, because if he doesn’t accept this today, I’ll probably never have the courage to offer it again. “Here,” I say.
Dominic’s eyes have always been the most expressive part of him. They grow guarded now, dropping back to letter and examining it like it’s poison. Then, slowly, his gaze still inscrutable, he reaches out and takes it.
Every single part of my body deflates with relief, but also with anxiety and fear and something deeper and more painful, too.
I return his nod and shove my hands in my jacket pockets so he won’t see them trembling.
Then I force myself to turn around and walk away, back across the dirt.
I give Ben a bob of my head as I go, further, further, desperately seeking the peace I’ll find when I round the corner and out of Dominic’s sight.
And I don’t know what makes me do it. Just as I’m about to pass out of view, I find myself looking back at him—like I’ve always done.
I startle to see him watching me still, the letter clenched in his fist, his lips parted like he might say something.
But he doesn’t.
I scramble forward the last few steps, rounding the corner of the house and slumping against the side as soon as I’m out of sight. My heart pounds behind my ribs, too large and too fast, even when I take steadying breaths. There’s once again something large and heavy sitting on my chest—
“So…Reese is back.”
I freeze at Bennett’s words, quiet now that I’ve rounded the corner but still audible. I lean sideways and strain to listen.
There’s no response from Dom, though, and I deflate a little—until Ben speaks again, his voice reluctant.
“Do you…want to talk about it?”
The aggressive sound of a hammer makes me jump, but I grow still again when Dominic speaks.
“Sure,” he says. His voice is light, but there’s a thread of tension underneath. “We can talk about Reese, just as soon as we talk about Maven—”
“No thanks.”
“That’s what I thought,” Dominic mutters. The two of them lapse into silence once more, save for the resumed sounds of construction work.
A second later, a question in Bennett’s raised voice filters to me, barely audible above Dom’s hammering:
“Go easy on my porch, would you?”
But if anything, the noise only intensifies.