Page 137 of PS: I Hate You
“So, what? You’re squatting in my condo now?” I glare up at him. “Adam and Carter may be your brothers, but if I ask them to carry you out of here bodily, what do you want to bet they’ll do it?”
Dom smirks. “They can try.” Then he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “We don’t have to test your theory, though. I won’t force my way into your home.”
“Good,” I mutter, longing for him to walk out already so I can entomb myself in a pile of quilts. “Have a safe flight back to Philly. I hope you sit beside a chatty creep with a crying baby.”
Instead of scowling at me, Dom’s expression stretches into a mischievous smile I’m more used to seeing on his brothers’ faces.
“I said I wouldn’t stay in your home.” The asshole cups my chin, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek, and I accidentally let him keep doing it. “But I didn’t say I’d leave your city.”
“What?”
“Don’t you want to know why it took me a week to seek you out?” A shadow crosses his expression. “I didn’t want to wait. After you hung up on me, I booked a ticket to come the moment the storm let up.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t.” My voice is breathless instead of sharp, the way I need it to be.
“No,” he agrees. “I didn’t. Because I realized that this time, I didn’t want to book a round-trip ticket.”
Time stutters, and I wonder if this is what happened in our Alabama Airbnb. If someone said something so shocking that all the clocks ceased to function properly.
“You…”
Dom backs up, giving me space, and I try to use it to breathe. But as he keeps talking, I have trouble focusing on anything other than his words.
“I found a town house. Not too far from here. You can walk to it when you’re ready. And this morning?” He smooths a hand over his perfectly ironed button-up. “I had my final meet and greet in the interview process. Not to sound too cocky, but they were quite impressed with me. I expect to get an offer in the next few days.”
A horrifying suspicion arises. “Interviewing where?”
He holds my eyes. “The Redford Team.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper.
Dom’s smile is hard this time, his stare piercing. “Tell me you don’t love me. And I’ll turn it down.”
“Fuck you,” I say louder this time.
My irresponsible language doesn’t faze him.
Dom’s eyes drag over me, his stare possessive, and then he gives a curt nod. “That’s what I thought.”
He turns on his heel and strides toward the door, pausing with his fingers wrapped around the knob. “I’m leaving your home, but I’m not leaving you. I’m not going anywhere.” Dom gives his speech to the molding, and I’m grateful because I don’t know if I couldsurvive the next words paired with the weight of his gaze. “I messed up. I will again. You had me on a pedestal, and I hurt you when I fell off it. I can’t promise you perfection, much as I want to be that man for you. What I can swear is that I will never be the one to leave. I’m yours, Maddie Sanderson. And I’m ready to wait, as long as it takes.”
Then he’s gone.
But if what he told me is true, he hasn’t gone far.
Winter
Chapter
Forty
Two years ago today, my brother died.
And on this anniversary of the worst day in my life, I sit alone in my apartment lit only by the glow of my laptop screen as I manually finish a data report because a glitch in the preprogramed steps caused it to quit running seventy-five percent of the way through.
My eyes itch. My lower back aches. The knuckles in my fingers have started popping in weird ways because of the repetitive movement.
But none of that compares to the squeezing splinter-covered hand that grips my heart.