Chapter 21 #3
I throw myself at the cap, trying to get my hands on it before he does, but I miss; he snatches it from the floor and then steps quickly back, holding it high in the air and leaving me grasping at nothing.
I scramble to my feet and look up at the hat, which could not more obviously be his. It looks exactly the same as it always has, faded blue with the ruined bill.
Dominic stares up at it too, and I see the recognition flash in his eyes after only a second; his brows jump, his lips parting. But then his expression smooths, and he looks back at me.
“You know,” he says in a quiet, conversational voice, “funnily enough, this looks familiar.” His gaze flicks over my shoulder to the ticket stubs and candy. “Those do too.”
His hair is still damp from the storm; his body is still tired from the late hour and our conversation. But he holds the hat high over his head anyway, looming over me, his brows raised as he waits for an explanation.
“I’m not—it wasn’t—” I begin, but I have no idea what to say. “It doesn’t mean anything!” I finally blurt.
My voice is too loud, the following silence damning, and Dom’s expression tells me plainly he knows I’m lying.
But he doesn’t call me out. He just shrugs. “In that case,” he says easily, “I’ll take it back. This was my favorite—”
“No,” I say quickly. I go up on my tiptoes, trying to reach the hat, but Dominic steps away.
I trip forward on unsteady feet, grasping for it again, but my balance is thrown off—
And so, for the second time in as many weeks, I find myself stumbling into my ex. Literally.
I’m conscious of a dozen things as our bodies slam together—Dom’s wince as his back collides with the door, the hat as it tumbles to the floor—but more than anything else, I find myself keenly aware of his arm as it slides beneath my jacket and wraps around my waist.
My breath escapes me at the impact, but Dominic’s grip keeps me steady. His eyes are as wide as mine as he looks down at me. And when his grip tightens around me, my heart triples its speed.
This is a version of home, this place in his arms. This is someplace I’ve missed. I can feel my body melting into his, trying to relax against him, trying to find rest.
“Dom,” I whisper as my cheeks flame, as my pulse races. I move my palms to the door we’re pressed against, hoping to lift myself off of him so I can think straight, but he doesn’t let go.
When Dominic speaks, his voice is rough. “It doesn’t mean anything?” he says as one brow lifts in clear challenge. “You kept my hat, my shirt—it doesn’t mean anything?”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I repeat, my words breathless. “Just—sentimental stuff. Stupid. That’s all.” I swallow. “You were listening to my music. I know you were. And that didn’t mean anything either, did it?”
And for the tiniest moment, his gaze on me softens. I shiver dangerously as his hand on my back turns caressing, his fingers drifting gently over the thin fabric of the shirt I’ve borrowed.
One finger, up and down my spine; a shudder I can’t suppress, my breath hitching in my chest, my fingers curling against the door at his back, and his green eyes grow darker as they drop slowly to my lips.
His gaze burns—and it lingers.
But he blinks then, his eyes widening, and he gives his head a tiny shake as though throwing off a spell. His expression returns to something more neutral, and his arm falls away, his gaze leaving mine.
“You’re right,” he says.
I right myself and step quickly backward. “It’s really not—” But I break off when I realize what he’s said. “Wait. What?”
“I said you’re right,” he repeats. “I get it.” He pauses, glancing at me with hesitance. Then he lifts one hand to his neck and tugs on the cord of his necklace, pulling it from beneath his shirt and revealing the pendant that’s always been hidden before.
My jaw drops when I see it, and without meaning to, I step closer—to make sure I’m not imagining things.
But I’m not. It’s a little feather charm, so familiar I could cry, no longer the bright silver it used to be.
“You were right,” Dom says quietly. “It brought me good luck. So I kept it.”
I examine the cord and then straighten up, meeting his gaze. “It was on a chain before,” I say.
He clears his throat. “That broke years ago.”
My eyes drop back to the feather, a fond smile pulling to my lips. “I got this from my dad. Did I ever tell you that?”
Dom’s look of surprise is answer enough, and I nod.
“Yeah. When I turned sixteen.” I let my hand fall away. “I’m glad you took good care of it.”
He snaps out of his surprise, tucking the necklace back under his shirt and pulling his eyes away from mine.
He turns to the door again. “I just wanted you to see. You don’t need to be embarrassed.
I know it doesn’t mean anything, keeping stuff or listening to music.
” He pauses. “Go to bed, okay? We’ll talk more tomorrow. ”
“Wait—Dom, wait.” I glance around the shed and clear my throat. “Uh, what if I need to shower?”
There’s a beat of hesitation, and then he shrugs. “Come up to the house and use mine.”
My eyes pop wide at the suggestion, but he pulls the door open before I can respond, and then he’s gone—out of the shed and into the night.