Chapter 136
Ellie's POV
Dominic takes me home that night without asking.
I tell him no.
Repeatedly.
He ignores me.
Also repeatedly.
He just keeps pushing my wheelchair along like my opinion is a minor inconvenience.
The worst part?
He somehow makes it impossible to argue.
Especially when we get to the bus.
Because apparently, Dominic has decided the wheelchair isn't enough.
He picks me up.
Princess style.
In public.
On a bus.
I want to disappear.
My wheelchair sits safely on the rack outside while I'm trapped in his arms, holding onto him because, unfortunately, gravity still exists.
It's humiliating.
Completely humiliating.
Then an old woman sitting across from us smiles.
A warm, knowing smile.
"What a sweet boyfriend."
My entire body freezes.
I wait.
Surely one of us will correct her.
Surely.
But neither of us does.
The woman's smile grows as she turns back to the window.
And suddenly, somehow...
The entire situation feels warmer.
Which is ridiculous.
Because this is Dominic.
The same Dominic who has driven me insane for months.
The same Dominic who knows exactly how to push every button I have.
Yet here I am.
Holding onto him like my life depends on it.
His hand stays steady against my shoulder.
His eyes remain fixed on the window.
He doesn't look embarrassed.
He never does.
When we reach my house, I expect him to leave.
Maybe help me with the steps.
Maybe hand me over to my family.
Instead...
He grabs the entire wheelchair.
I yelp.
"Dominic!"
He ignores me.
Again.
He carries the chair up the front steps like it's nothing.
Then he walks inside with me.
The moment we enter, everyone freezes.
"Ellie?"
My mother's voice is full of surprise.
Her eyes move from me.
To Dominic.
To the wheelchair.
Like she's trying to understand a scene that makes no sense.
Because clearly...
She was expecting Lucas.
Not him.
My mother moves immediately.
"Oh, Ellie, sweetheart."
Concern crosses her face.
"We can help you upstairs."
"I've got her."
Dominic answers before I can.
I turn toward him.
"Wait—"
Too late.
He's already crouching in front of me.
One arm slides beneath my knees.
"Hold on."
My eyes widen.
"Dominic—"
Then he lifts me.
One arm.
Like I weigh nothing.
My arms instinctively wrap around his neck.
"Oh!"
My mother startles.
"Let me get the chair—"
"I got it, miss."
His voice is calm.
Completely calm.
As if carrying me and my wheelchair through my house is a normal Tuesday activity.
With his free arm, he grabs the chair.
Then starts toward the stairs.
I look over his shoulder.
My mother is staring.
My stepfather is staring too.
His expression is impossible to read.
And Dominic...
Dominic just keeps walking.
Up the stairs.
Into my room.
Like he has done this a hundred times.
His scent surrounds me.
Clean.
Soap.
A faint trace of night air.
And I hate how safe it feels.
I hate that my body relaxes before my mind can stop it.
Without thinking, my arms tighten around him.
My fingers brush against the back of his head, pulling him slightly closer.
He goes still.
Just for a second.
But he doesn't move away.
He simply keeps walking.
Careful.
Steady.
Like I'm something fragile.
When we reach my room, he lowers me onto the bed slowly.
Gently.
Like I'm made of glass.
For a moment...
Neither of us moves.
The air feels different.
Too quiet.
Too aware.
Then I force myself to break it.
"Thank you."
My voice comes out softer than expected.
"For today."
A pause.
"For... everything."
I pull the blanket toward my chin, suddenly unable to look directly at him.
"You kind of..."
I clear my throat.
"Saved my butt."
A small pause.
"And I didn't know you could actually be this kind."
I try to make it a joke.
A tease.
Something that doesn't feel too serious.
But the words come out more honest than I intended.
Dominic simply straightens.
He gives a small nod.
"Shocker."
I look up.
"Get better, alright?"
His voice softens.
"I'll check on you at school tomorrow."
A small smile pulls at my lips.
"Tomorrow?"
I raise an eyebrow.
"So you're volunteering to be stuck helping me again?"
Something shifts in his expression.
Something I can't quite read.
He reaches the doorway.
Stops.
Then turns back.
"I'd help you like this for years, Ellie."
My breathing stops.
For a second...
Everything stops.
The room.
The world.
Me.
Then he's gone.
The door closes.
I sit there staring at the window.
Toward the dark woods outside.
My heart is racing.
My cheeks feel warm.
And my mind refuses to stop replaying everything.
His hands.
His voice.
The way he said my name.
The way he looked at me.
Then—
The pain returns.
Sudden.
Sharp.
Cruel.
It steals the air from my lungs.
I curl inward, fingers gripping the blanket as my vision blurs.
My body reminds me.
This isn't over.
Whatever is happening to me...
It's still here.
But even through the pain...
His words remain.
Warm.
Impossible.
"I'd help you like this for years, Ellie."
And somehow...
That scares me almost as much as the sickness does.