Chapter 37 #2
“There are still a lot of things left unsaid from the past,” I whisper. “And I know that kind of damage doesn’t just disappear. But I need us to be able to talk about it. All of it.”
I lean forward slightly.
“I won’t be able to live with the anxiety of not knowing whether you’re grumpy one day because your coffee sucked… or because I accidentally triggered some fucked-up memory. I need to know why the fuck you’re grumpy.”
His mouth twitches.
“And I’ll do the same,” I add.
“You’ve really thought about this,” he murmurs, watching me with something that looks like pride. “But yeah, I agree—”
“I wasn’t finished,” I cut in.
His brows rise.
Dummy. Of course I’ve thought about this. It was the only thing on my mind every time I visited my new special place.
“Third and final condition. You once told me you don’t mess with the club girls. But that was right after the dungeon, and frankly… you could’ve lied.”
His jaw tightens just slightly.
“So I need to know right now if there’s anyone at the clubhouse you were ever involved with. I need to know if I’ve been staring your past in the face every time I walked in there.”
And if maybe I need to ask Bones for a favor.
“I wasn’t lying,” he says firmly. His voice is still rough, but there’s steel under it now. “The last time I touched a club girl was almost a decade ago. Fresh out of the slammer.”
His fingers shift weakly against mine, frustration at his own physical limits flashing briefly across his face.
“I told you I went crazy back then, and I wasn’t underselling it. I stirred up a whole lot of fucking drama with the club girls. But they all eventually wised up and moved on. None of them are around anymore, so you don’t need to worry.”
I nod slowly.
“Oh, I wasn’t worried,” I say lightly — lying. “I just wanted to be prepared.”
A beat passes. My cursed curiosity claws its way up.
“I might want to hear about that drama at some point,” I add. “But without the… details. You know which ones.”
He glares at me.
“Let’s make something clear,” he says. “My one and only condition is that I don’t want to hear about any of the dickheads you fucked.”
“That’s a good choice,” I reply, unable to stop the teasing in my voice. “But it’s cute that you think you can have a condition.”
His glare deepens. “I can and I will. And why is it a good choice? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I better be the best you’ve ever had.”
I lean forward, brushing the hair back from his forehead carefully, enjoying the way his eyes instantly drop to my boobs.
“Of course you’re the best I’ve ever had,” I say sweetly, keeping my teasing tone.
There’s no lie there. But that doesn’t mean I can’t poke at him a little.
“That tone sounds patronizing as fuck,” he murmurs, suspicion heavy in his tone. Then his voice lowers, deep and dangerous and so fucking enticing. “I really am the best, aren’t I? I can remind you right now if you’ve forgotten.”
I burst into laughter. “Hold your hormonal horses, mister. You can barely move.”
A slow, lazy smile curves his mouth. “The important part of me has no problem moving.”
“Ghost—” I start.
“Don’t,” he interrupts, his smile disappearing. His voice is barely above a whisper now. He takes a slow, shaky breath before speaking again. “I heard you. On that pavement. Before I blacked out.”
My stomach flips, then drops.
“You were screaming my name.”
That burning memory comes at me from all sides. I can still feel his blood coating my hands, the weight of him crushing my body. The fear that I’ve lost every possible outcome for our future together except one.
“Every time you call me Ghost, it feels like I’m getting sucker-punched in the ribs.” His throat works as he swallows. “When I heard you call me by my real name again, all the pain stopped.”
My chest squeezes so hard it steals my breath.
“So if I can get one thing,” he continues quietly, eyes locked on mine, “one term, one condition. You can even call it a wish, but this is the one I want.” A faint, tired smirk touches his mouth.
“You can torture me with stories about all the asshole dickheads you want for the rest of my life. Every day. I’ll survive it. ”
His voice cracks slightly.
“But just… please. Say my name.”
The room feels unbearably still.
“Okay,” I whisper, my voice scraped raw. “I’ll grant you your wish, Dominic.”
The name feels fragile on my tongue, but not foreign anymore. What he doesn’t know is that I’ve been using it all these weeks, calling him back to me. I’m already used to it again.
His eyes close, like something heavy has finally slid off his shoulders. His entire body seems to settle deeper into the mattress.
For a moment, he just breathes. Then he opens his eyes again, staring up at the ceiling.
“You know,” he murmurs, words slower now, “I wasn’t supposed to give you my real name when we first met. It used to be one of the club rules Pops had. No outsider was allowed to know it.” His gaze drifts to me. “Definitely not a beautiful girl you’re meeting for the first time.”
I trace my thumb gently over his knuckles, careful of the IV taped to his skin, sinking briefly back into the memory.
“I stunned you,” I tease lightly, squeezing his hand.
A tired huff escapes him.
“Yeah… you really fucking did.”
His eyelids droop. The effort of talking is clearly catching up to him. He turns his head slightly toward me, movements laden with exhaustion.
“I think…” he mumbles, voice fading, “I think you should kiss me now…”
His fingers tighten around mine, weak but stubborn. His eyes close. He’s already asleep before my lips even touch his.