Normally, I love how small Red Mountain is, but getting pulled over by my ex makes me wish it was much larger, lessening my chances of running into him. Ever.
I roll down my window at the same time that Dominic bends at the waist and leans his elbows over the door—his veiny arms practically taunting me. He’s so close now I wish I didn’t need oxygen to stay alive, because I just know the next time I risk an intake of air it’s going to smell like him and wreck me.
“Look who it is,” he says, humor lacing his words. Thedusting of his breath warms my left cheek, sending an unwelcome trail of heat down the side of my neck.
He chuckles, likely amused at my refusal to look at him. “Still stubborn as ever, huh, Ellie girl?”
Wonderful. He finds this hilarious.
I don’t.
And he really shouldn’t call me that. It’s too familiar.
“Is there a problem, officer?” My voice is dull and flat, hopefully proving how unaffected I am by his presence.
Because I totally am.
Reluctantly I turn my head, refusing to actually make eye contact, but I still notice his hand move to the silver star pinned to his chest. He taps the metal with his index finger.
“It’s Deputy Alvarez, actually.”
Fighting an eye roll, I breathe out an audibly annoyed sigh as I try to ignore the way blood is rapidly running through my veins.
“Okay then,Deputy Alvarez, is there a reason you pulled me over?”
He clears his throat, and then pauses, letting silence linger between us as the ghost of a smile plays on his lips. I hate it.
“You have a taillight out. Might want to get that fixed.”
All this for a stupid taillight? Ridiculous. “Good to know.” I reach for the gear shift, but the disapproving sound coming from Dominic stops me.
“You can’t leave yet. I need your license and registration.”
My head jerks at him. “Seriously?”
He nods, the corner of his mouth twitching as he stares at me.The air inside the car thickens, the space shrinking as his gaze holds steady, pressing in with a heaviness I can’t escape. His eyes are hidden beneath sunglasses, and I can see my reflection in them. It’s unsettling, like he can see more than I want to show. I need to get out of here. This is unbearable.
“Seriously. Have to follow procedure.”
Quickly, I reach into my glove box for the registration and grab my license from my wallet, handing it to him in a way that prevents our hands from touching.
He shoots me a smug grin. “Be right back.”
Once he’s gone, I let myself collapse into the seat, my body sinking like the air’s been knocked out of me.His scent lingers—a maddening blend, both new and familiar. It’s so good, I can’t decide if I want to breathe it in or hold my breath and suffocate instead.He wears a different cologne now, but he still smells like him—like cedarwood and soap—spicy, clean, and undeniably Dominic.
My hands clench at my sides, knuckles white, as memories claw their way to the surface—memories I’ve spent years trying to lock away. Being near him again is like standing on uneven ground, my footing slipping with every passing second. We’ve crossed paths more times than I’d prefer since he returned, but this is the first time it’s been just the two of us. No buffer, no distractions, no audience.
Just those few minutes between us had felt too overwhelming. Now, the empty space he’s left behind lingers with a gravity I’m trying my best to not acknowledge, but it clings to me like a second skin. It was easier to push him out of my mind when he wasn’t at every corner I turned—he’s inescapable.
Dominic moved back to our small town, Red Mountain, about a month ago. And true to form, had to make a big whoop about his return, showing up uninvited to my parents’ anniversary party.
As the town’s former golden boy, he’s been welcomed back with open arms. The charming, state-winning quarterback turned deputy sheriff.
Now, he’s acting like he can just waltz back into my life like a decade hasn’t passed since we’ve been anything more than strangers. I wish I could say I’m immune to him withyears and distance having hardened me, but my pulse quickens in a way that betrays every lie I tell myself.
I think it’s more of a muscle memory thing, like when someone has amnesia, but their body remembers how to do everything. That’s all this is. That’s all it can ever be.
Minutes pass before gravel crunches under steady steps, the closer it gets, the more anxious I feel.
