She squeaks, then blinks a few times, stunned. I let her have a second to process.
“What the fuck?!” she blurts, her voice nearly shrill.
“Language,” I say instantly, surprising both of us with the reflex still sitting right there after all these years.
We blink at each other. Then we burst out laughing at the same time.
“Okay, you need to start at the beginning and tell me everything, step by step, because I have to tell you, Addie, I am confused as hell right now.”
I settle deeper into bed and do exactly that… minus a few “minor” details.
By the time I end the call, I feel lighter. But also a little sad.
She’s thriving in Italy, but she went there carrying trauma of her own. I couldn’t shield her from everything. And I know, with certainty, that she’ll never move back here. Her life is there now. And as much as I wish that weren’t true, there’s more than an ocean between us — there is a distance that comes from the soul.
Deep into the night, I’m still waiting for Dominic. I sit on the edge of the bed, the room divider pulled back, my eyes fixed on the front door. I can’t sleep, knowing what he’s been up to. I need to see him, to make sure he comes back to me whole.
Sometime in the night, hours after I left him by the side of that pit, doubt crept in. Maybe I shouldn’t have put him face to face with Bowie. Flashes of his empty eyes from that cursed morning at the clubhouse have been taunting me for the past hour.
It takes another hour before the knob finally turns, the door giving that short, by now familiar creak.
His eyes greet me first. Relief almost whooshes out of me. They’re not empty or dead, just lost in thought.
He steps inside and stops after two paces, letting the door fall shut behind him.
There are drops of blood on his cheek. When I take in the rest of him, I see his hands are red. His clothes are black — nothing else would show — but I catch the way the fabric glistens. The blood is there.
“I took too long, didn’t I?” he mutters, half to himself. His gaze flicks over his shoulder, then to his hands, then back to me. “I should’ve showered at the clubhouse.”
That pushes me into motion. Does he think I’m afraid of seeing him like this?
I cross the room and grab the lapels of his cut, forcing his eyes to mine.
“Don’t be stupid, Dominic,” I say, my gaze hard, my voice steel. “It doesn’t suit you.”
He nods slowly.
I strip the cut off him and place it carefully on a chair. It’ll need cleaning. His old one is pinned on the trophy wall at the clubhouse now. There was a whole party for it — and for him. He hated the attention that came with it. Glared and brooded at the bar for ten minutes before coming to sit beside me while I played cards with the girls. Stayed there the rest of the night, still glaring and brooding at everyone else, except me. That’s when he smiled.
But he’s not smiling now. And for some irrational reason, I wish he was. He just killed someone, but fuck, I wish he was smiling.
I take his hand and lead him to the bathroom. He follows like he’s moving through fog, leaving most of the work to me as I undress him. I let my own clothes fall beside his, adjust the water, and guide him under the spray.
Once he’s seated on the shower bench, I grab the detachable head and get to work.
With a tired sigh, he leans forward, resting his forehead against my skin, his hands settling on my thighs.
I don’t like this kind of silence from him, but I can’t really do anything about it right now, just give it time. So I keep going, washing the blood from his skin, careful around the new scars.
After a long stretch, he speaks.
“I expected it to be easy,” he murmurs, lifting his head to look at me. “I thought I’d kill him quickly and be done with it.” He swallows, frowning. “It wasn’t easy, adorable. That fucker stole from you. And he stole from me. I started remembering too much shit. And when he died, he didn’t take any of it with him. With Sombra and your mother, I had to push through — there was always the next problem to deal with. But now…”
A faint, forced lift of his lips. “You don’t need to look so worried though. I’m fine. You were right to keep him for me. I just… needed to think.”
I run my fingers through his dark hair, then wipe away a stubborn streak of blood on his cheek.
“Think about it, but don’t let it linger, okay?” I say, offering him a soft smile. “I’ve got a violin coming in next week, and I need you in tip-top shape to play it for me.”
