“Let me give you a piece of advice for a change. Go home. Find Mallory. Worry about that relationship and not mine. Trust me when I tell you that your efforts will be much more appreciated and are much more necessary in your own house.”
He shakes his head. “I take it you’re going to continue seeing him.”
It’s not the words so much that pierce me. It’s more the tone, the dismissive nature of them that zip right through me like a hot knife.
“Get out of my house.”
He doesn’t move.
“I’m not joking, Graham. Get out of my house now.”
“Swink . . .”
“No,” I say, shaking my head and feeling my hands start to tremble. “Leave. You aren’t welcome here.”
He holds my gaze before turning to go. He gets to the door and yanks it open. When he turns, I see fire in his eyes. “When you wise up, you know where to find me to get you out of whatever mess he gets you in.”
The door closes. I wait a few seconds to make sure he’s gone before bursting into tears.
Dominic
THE HOUSE IS QUIET. NATE is at the bar and Chrissy came by and took Ryder a little while ago. It’s just me, a beer that is the temperature of piss, and a muted television.
Everything hurts. My body. My head. My heart. It all aches like a motherfucker.
My legs stretch in front of me as I sit on the sofa, my eyes watching but not seeing the talking head on the news. There’s some story on about a family that had something tragic happen but are now all smiles, holding hands, all that shit. Shit I’ve never had.
Shit I’ll never have.
Not the way I want it.
I’m tired. The thought of getting up in the morning and going to work and then to the gym and then home to this, makes me want to close my eyes and just sleep. There’s no point to it. No point to any of it.
Yesterday was supposed to be a way to make some inroads with the Landry’s. I figured it was probably for naught and that’s why I refused for so long.
Then things changed.
I don’t know when it happened, but it did. She became not just a girl I was fucking but someone I looked forward to seeing at the end of the day. I made sure there was sorbet, something I didn’t even know existed before her, in my freezer. It was her voice I wanted to hear before I laid down.
Cam makes me feel things I haven’t felt before. Give a fuck about things I didn’t know I could care about. Like the fact that she made it home at the end of the night or had enough cold medicine when she wasn’t feeling good.
When things got to this point, I don’t know. But when she asked me to meet her brother and I could see that it mattered to her . . . I felt like I mattered to her.
That’s why they say feelings are dangerous. They take a quick fuck and turn it into visions of something a year, two years, ten years later. The shit that’s on the television right now.
I click it off and down the rest of the lukewarm brew.
My eyes start to close when a knock at the door brings them open. Wincing as I get to my feet, I set the bottle down and get to the entry. Looking through the hole, my heart almost stops beating.
I can’t get it open fast enough.
Her face is streaked with mascara, her beautiful sky-blue eyes watery and puffy. It takes one look, not even a question, before she lunges forward and wraps her arms around my waist.
“What the hell happened to you?” I ask, pulling her inside and shutting the door. My heart thunders in my chest as I try to see her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She nuzzles against me, her words muffled by my shirt.
Scooping her up, her legs hanging off one of my arms as my other cradles her back, I carry her to the sofa. As I sit, I place her on my lap. “Okay. What’s going on? Why are you crying?”
She takes a deep breath and it shakes as she comes down from the crying high. A quick, easy smile that touches her eyes settles some of my nerves. “I don’t want to talk about it, Dom.”
“I really don’t care if you want to talk about it,” I laugh. “We’re going to talk about it.” Gathering her hair and twisting it together, I place it over one shoulder. “Tell me. Did I do something? I mean, I probably did, but . . .”
“It wasn’t you.”
My features fall. This changes things. “Okay. Who did?”
“Graham,” she whispers.
“Your brother? He made you cry?”
“Yes.”
I move in my seat, finding it impossible to get comfortable. She tries to climb off my lap, but I keep her in place. I need her here. With me. On me.
“I threw Graham out of my house,” she says quietly without looking at me.
“Why?”
Her shoulders rise and fall. “He just . . . he was being irrational.”
I watch her face. There’s a sorrow there that burns me to the core, and suddenly, I get it. “It was because of me.”
“Dom . . .” she pleads.
I’m right. “What did he say?”
“Nothing. Just that he’d talked to Ford and Lincoln and either put it together or someone told him, I don’t know, but he found out you’re Nolan’s nephew.”
“Of course he did,” I mutter, feeling my head begin to pound. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” She tries to cup my face with her hands, but I shake them away. “Dom, listen to me, it’s not your fault.”
“I know it isn’t my fault I’m related to Nolan. Clearly. But I’m sorry I put you in this position.”
Lifting her off my lap, I stand up and head to the center of the room. Pacing a circle, I feel my soul start to splinter.
“I told him to leave,” she says, a tear trickling down her cheek. “I told him I won’t put up with it.”
“But he’s right.”
“About what?”
“About everything he said,” I admit, feeling my spirit begin to wane. “And everything he might not have.”
She gets to her feet, both cheeks now damp. “He’s not right. About any of it,” she sniffles. “You’ve been telling me to stand up for myself and think for myself, Dominic.”
“I have. But, Cam, this isn’t a fight you have to take, babe,” I sigh. “This is your family. Yes, you need boundaries with them. Yes, you need to tell them to mind their own business and you need to step out of their shadow and show them who you really are and what you’re capable of. But, Cam . . .” I shake my head. “That’s your family.”
“I thought you hated my brothers.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think about them. You need them. You can’t let some asshole like me get in between you.”
“I need them?” she asks, her brows lifted. “You know what I need, Dominic?”
My breath still in my chest, my hands nearly shaking at my sides. I wait for her next words, unable to look away.
“I need you,” she whispers.
With those three little words, she takes the few steps between us and wraps her arms around my waist. I hold her tight, squeezing her against me for dear life as I struggle to maintain enough oxygen flow to stay cognizant.
No one has needed me before. Not in the way she just looked at me. Women have needed me for an orgasm or a safety net or something to do on a Friday night. There’s never been a female that’s looked at me, the me under the ink and the game, and said they wanted that.