AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Now
Dom looks at me, and I wish for the first time in weeks that his eyes were somewhere else. Because one glance into the liquid pools of midnight shows me the fire raging inside of him. The darkness and shadows and ghosts that can only be conjured by reminders of things you’d rather forget.
His words are sharp, reminding me of all the times over the years when he’s used this exact tone to make me believe he hated me. It hurts to be taken back to those moments, to that feeling, but I see it for what it is now.
Deflection.
Him trying to make me retreat when I should be advancing. And I’m so lost in bearing witness to him in his own private hell, that it takes me a full minute to think of my next question, which is just an extension of the conversation we’ve been having.
“Why didn’t you say anything? I mean we were alone for a few minutes when we met in your room. You could have told me then or any of the other times we were alone.”
Dom exhales harshly. He’s frustrated that we’re still on this, but I just have to know. “What would it have changed, Sloane? At that point, Eric was already in love with you. And when I saw you with him, I knew. I fucking knew he was better for you than I could ever be. You were so happy, smiling and looking at him like he was the only person in the world for you.”
“But that night…”
“You weren’t yourself. You were angry and drunk, and I saw your fire and felt my entire world shift. I looked at you and thought ‘Finally, someone who’s just as ready to burn the world down as I am,’ but I didn’t question why you wanted to.”
I frown. “It wasn’t your job to ask.”
No one would expect a college freshman to assess the mental state of a stranger at a frat party. And while I don’t remember much, I can say with some certainty that if he would have started asking questions I didn’t want to answer, I would have found someone else to help me check the items off of my list. Truthfully, I was lucky I ran into him and not some other asshole who would have gladly taken advantage of me.
“Maybe not, but I didn’t have to dive into the madness head first, with no plan and not a care in the world about how it was going to turn out as long as I got to have you.” Both his nostrils flare, and he pushes out rough breaths that make his chest heave. “Eric wouldn’t have done that. He would have taken one look at you and gotten you out of there.”
My heart aches at the longing in his words, the jealousy in them wrapping around my lungs and squeezing as I listen to him compare himself to his best friend. Eric was the other, better, side of my coin. He always gave me so much comfort; his presence was like a calming salve, soothing away old hurts, providing steady support and quiet words of reassurance that didn’t stop coming until he was sure he’d kept me from going off the deep end.
There’s no denying Dom is different, mainly because he’s always the one sending me off the deep end, but also because in the weeks we’ve been together, he’s shown me he’s willing to jump off the cliff with me if talking me off the edge isn’t an option. He always gives me space to be angry and a little unreasonable.
Before we were us, I thought he got a sick satisfaction out of striking the match and watching me burn, but now I know his fascination with my fire is because of how closely it resembles his own. Eric was my better half, but Dom is the mirror image of my soul. The place where all my shadows and every burst of flame are known, understood, and loved.
Of course, there are differences in my relationships with both of them, but I don’t think one is better than the other because the result is the same. With both him and Eric, I’ve felt supported, protected, and safe to be any version of myself.
“Don’t do that. We have no idea how Eric would have handled that situation, and we never will.”
His lips curl into a sarcastic smile. “I guess we’ll just agree to disagree.”
“Dom.”
“What’s your next question, Sloane?”
Even though I know exactly what I want to ask next, my lips don’t part. Suddenly, I wish I didn’t come here because seeing him be this man—this brooding, drunk asshole who reminds me so much of the person I used to call my enemy it hurts to look at him—is ripping me apart.
This isn’t my Dom. The one who sent Mal to check on me when I freaked out. The one who comforted me after I got into it with my mom. The one who went out his way to save me before I even thought to call him mine.
I take a deep breath. “Why did you get the tattoo?”
Tension lines his shoulders, and the muscle in his jaw starts to tick rapidly. He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. You don’t do anything without a reason, so tell me why. If you were so convinced you were bad for me, so determined to believe I was the best version of myself with Eric, why would you get a permanent reminder of that night?”
“So I could remember to hate you!” He roars, throwing his hands in the air like he’s physically releasing the truth. “You forgot me. And out of all the men on the planet, on that fucking campus, you found Eric. The one person I could never try to steal you away from. Not even if it meant watching you fall in love with him or standing beside him while he made you promises I never got the chance to. I watched you build a life with him, and it hurt. Wanting you. Loving you. Being yours when you were always his. It all hurt, and so I decided to try hating you instead.”
“And did it work?”
He hesitates, just for a second. “Yes.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Each one landing its punch until I feel broken and bruised. I don’t even flinch at his raised voice, don’t even care about the resentment coating his words as he talks about watching me with Eric. What hurts the most is hearing him say he did hate me. After weeks of believing the words he whispered to me that first night in my bed—I never hated you, Sloane.—the confession has tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes.
“Dominic…”
