“Go on,” Sienna whispers. I can barely hear her over the blood rushing by my eardrums. “I’ll stay out here with Nate.”
Forcing a swallow of my own, I head down the hall and find Dominic sitting on his bed. I step inside the small room and close the door behind me. My feet stop just a few inches from the threshold as I try to make sense of the look on his face.
He doesn’t smile, doesn’t glare. Gives me nothing to base a decision off of.
“Are you okay, babe?” I ask softly.
“Come here.”
The gravel in his tone skirts over my skin as I take the three steps to the bed. His arms are around me, his cheek pressing into my stomach before I can even get situated in front of him.
He holds me tight, almost knocking me off-balance. I rest my arms on his shoulders, cradling the back of his head as he nuzzles against me.
Instead of talking, I run my hands down his back until I hit a spot that makes him wince. As he pulls back, I catch a flash of pain in his eyes.
“What happened?” I ask, moving around him. Climbing on the bed, I lift the edge of his shirt. There’s an angry, red burst on the right side of his back, halfway between his shoulder and hip. “I’ll grab some ice.”
He looks at me over his shoulder, his blue eyes clear. “Just stay with me. Tell me about your day.”
The simplicity of his request both worries me and comforts me. Before I answer, I help him lie back, probably more help than he needs, and prop his side up with a pillow. He grins the whole time as he tells me it’s unnecessary.
“I don’t care if it’s necessary,” I groan. “Let me make myself feel better about this.”
Once he’s settled, I lie next to him. “You smell like sweat.”
“You like it and you know it.”
“I didn’t say I don’t,” I smile. “I was just pointing it out.”
“What did you do today?”
“Went to yoga. Talked to Mallory and Joy for a little while and then came by here to grab my laptop.”
He runs a finger down the centerline of my face. “You didn’t come here to see me?”
“I hoped you were here,” I admit. “But you didn’t answer my text so I wasn’t sure.”
“I was training. My fight is coming up and the guy I’m going to fight has a helluva ground game.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
He grins. “I know you don’t. Keep it that way.”
“But I want to know. I want to understand you. What those things mean, why you like fighting.”
“I don’t think you can understand it. You’re not cut from that cloth.”
There’s a finality in his voice, one that tells me he’s made up his mind. Before, it was more open-ended. Until today, there was a little window of opportunity that was left dangling out there for another time and place. That’s closed.
“I could learn that cloth,” I offer.
He kisses me simply, easily, just a sweet gesture that turns me to mush. “You’ll be happy to hear that I think this is my last fight.”
“I am happy to hear that. But what changed your mind?”
“My body isn’t cut out for it anymore,” he says, curling his nose. “It hurts when you get hit.”
“I thought you didn’t let them hit you.”
“I don’t. Not on purpose,” he laughs. “My reflexes are starting to catch up with my age and fighting is a young man’s sport.”
“Quit now. Don’t get hit anymore.”
“I can’t. I need this payday.”
The thought of him taking abuse for money makes me physically ill. “Dom, if it’s about money, I—”
“Don’t.” His eyes back up his insistence, the combination chilling me. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“What you were just about to do. I’ll take care of myself.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
The wall between us is back up. I can feel the gate locking in place. Reaching out, I touch his arm. Tracing the tattoo of the cross for Joey, I try not to lose the easiness between us, but it’s already gone.
My phone rings in my pocket and I fall on my back and pull it out. “Hey, G,” I say, looking at the ceiling.
“Where are you?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, actually, it doesn’t. What matters is that I’m going to arrive at your house in about thirty minutes and I need you to be there. Can you do that?”
I look at Dom. His eyes are closed, his breathing even. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“See you then.”
The line clicks dead. Putting it back in my pocket, I roll over and press a kiss to Dom’s cheek.
“Where are you going?” he asks sleepily.
“I need to go home and take care of a few things. Do you need anything?”
“A kiss.”
I lower the few inches to his sweet lips and let my own pucker against them. He moves his mouth against mine—slow, steady, and sinful. When I pull back, breathless, his eyes are open. He doesn’t smile. “Call me later, Cam?”
“Will you answer?”
“Yeah.”
His eyes close again as I climb off the bed. I get to the door but stop and look at him. “Dom?”
“Yeah?”
“I miss you.”
“You’re with me.”
“You know what I mean.”
He looks at me and nods. “I miss you too.”
Camilla
I DON’T EVEN LOVE WINE, but I take a gulp anyway. It’s strong and bitter, and I realize I should’ve checked to see if wine expires before taking as large of a drink as I did. This bottle has been in my refrigerator since Sienna came back home for Barrett’s campaign. That’s been . . . a long time.
“Ugh,” I grimace but take another sip anyway. I don’t know what’s up with Graham, but after everything else, I need a little fortification.
On cue, the doorbell rings. Wine glass in hand, another drink tumbling down my throat, I spy G on the other side and pull it open.
His look is lethal. I almost drop the glass.
“What’s wrong?” I stutter, watching him charge by. “Graham?”
Sitting my wine glass on the entry table, I latch the door and turn on my heel. He’s glowering at me from the other end of the foyer.
I’ve never seen my brother, any of them, so angry. Ever. His eyes are narrowed, wickedly so, as he heaves air in and out of his body. “Just saw Ford,” he says, his words measured. “He said he had lunch with you and Lincoln yesterday.”
“Yes,” I say, equally measured. It’s suddenly all clear why he’s so angry. Ford told him he met Dom. Thinking fast, I decide to go on the defensive. “And with Dominic.”
He smiles, but there’s no kindness to it. No amusement. “And Dominic. So, tell me, Camilla, what do you know about Dominic?”
“All I need to.” When his eyes narrow even more, I see where this is going. Storming by him, I don’t even look his way. “You can see yourself out.”
“I’m not done here yet,” he barks after me.
“I am.”
My steps smack off the tile as I enter the kitchen and position myself as far away from my brother as I can. Knowing this is about Dominic changes everything.
I generally listen to G. I value his opinion, but I won’t stand in my own house and listen to him take his opinions on a man he’s never met and twist them all around and throw them at me.
My blood boils, my own eyes narrowing as he stands across the room. “What do you want, Graham?”