“That’s not an excuse,” Dom says coldly as he walks over to him. “You weren’t a kid. You were nineteen. A horny, worthless fuck who fucked his brother’s girlfriend. Emma and I had a life planned, Sin. And you ruined it.”
Sin holds up his hand. “Dom, calm down. It was a long time ago. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought it would blow over and you’d go away to college and you’d never know. I’m sorry. She was sorry. She cried afterward.”
Dom stares at him, an empty gaze filled with ice. “And that’s supposed to make it better? What am I supposed to do with this?”
Sin’s eyes are filled with guilt. “Dom, I swear to Christ that I didn’t know that I had anything at all to do with her death. I honestly thought that she’d screwed around with Cris and that you couldn’t forgive either of them. The dickhead in me was glad about that, that you could focus on that and never find out what I did. I put it out of my mind and tried to pretend that it didn’t happen.”
Dominic scowls. “But it did happen. You fucked Emma. I thought all along that my best friend fucked my girlfriend, that he got her pregnant, that I forced her into an abortion. I thought I caused her to commit suicide. But all along, it was you, Sin. It was you.”
Everyone pauses, everyone stops. And while it doesn’t really matter now what actually happened because both Emma and the baby are dead, it matters in a million different ways.
Dominic has blamed himself for so long, carried a guilt that might not have been his to carry. It makes this whole tragic situation a thousand times worse. I turn to him.
“Dom,” I whisper. “It’s going to be okay.”
He looks at me, his dark eyes so filled with pain, then he looks at his brother.
“Is it? I’m pretty sure it’s not. My fucking brother, Jacey.”
I start to interrupt, but Dom looks at me. “I know that I’m the one who insisted that she get an abortion. I know that. But that’s when I thought she cheated with Cris. I thought that I could forgive her. But if I’d known that it was Sin, I couldn’t have gotten past it. If I’d known, I would’ve walked away. Because there’s no way I could’ve forgiven that.”
Cris stares at us, his face pale and bloody.
“You thought that Emma said my name at the end because there was something between us. But she was saying my name because she wanted me to tell you the truth. She couldn’t do it herself and she wanted you to know. I’ve always loved you and Sin like brothers, Dom. I don’t want to drive a wedge between you.” ”
“You aren’t the one who drove the wedge between us,” Dominic spits angrily, turning his back on Cris. “My brother did that for himself.”
He takes a step, then clocks Sin squarely on the mouth. Sin falls back, stumbling onto the floor from the force of the blow. Blood streams from his mouth as he looks up at his brother.
“Dominic. I love you. I never wanted to hurt you. It happened and it shouldn’t have.”
Dom looks down at his brother. “Yeah, you’re right. It shouldn’t have. But it did.”
And then he walks away, leaving us all staring at each other.
I start to go after him, but Sin grabs my arm. “You might want to give him a little space right now. Trust me.”
I stare at him. “Trust you? Trust the guy who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants?”
Sin looks wounded, and I look away.
“I’m sorry. I know you were just a kid too. This is all just so… tragic and terrible. I don’t know how we’re going to help Dominic. He was crushed by this before he knew the truth. I don’t know how we’ll reach him now. I really don’t.”
Sin hands me a bottle of whiskey and I take a long drink, relaxing when the warmth spreads to my belly.
“Tell me this,” he asks, his eyes urgent. “Do you believe me that I didn’t mean to do it? That I didn’t mean to hurt Dominic?”
I stare at him, at the gorgeous rocker that the world adores, shaking as he stands in front of me, awaiting my judgment. The world should see him now, I think.
“I do believe that you didn’t want to hurt him,” I say quietly. “You were only a kid too. What were you, nineteen? It was a mistake. Unfortunately, the situation is more tragic than it would’ve been because Emma died. Because everything is so fucked up, I don’t know how you’re going to fix it with Dom.”
I hand the bottle back to Sin. “You’re going to need this more than me. I need to go after Dom.”
I don’t know how I’m going to fix him or what I’ll say to him to make it better; all I know is that I have to try.
“He’s running,” Sin says raggedly. “Give him some time to calm down and then meet him at his house. I know that’s where he’s going. You can take my jet.”
I stand in front of Dominic’s door uncertainly. The flight to California had taken a few hours, and each of those hours was excruciating because I couldn’t reach Dominic.
But I know he’s here.
I know in my heart that he retreated here to his quiet hideaway. I know it because Sin called and asked the private hangar if Dom’s jet had been used and where it was going. They had confirmed that he was flying home, just as Sin had suspected. Also, Dom’s Porsche is sitting in front of the house and the hood is warm.
He’s here.
But he’s not answering the door. Fortunately, when I turn the handle, the door swings wide open. It’s not locked.
“Dominic!” I call out as I walk in. My heels click on the tiled floors. There’s no answer. I walk through, glancing outside to see if he’s there, but he’s not. I walk through the living room, through the dining room, through all of the rooms on the main floor.
When I approach the stairs, I hear something from upstairs.
Step by step, I get closer to the noise, to the talking.
It’s a woman’s voice.
The breath dies on my lips as I hear her words, over and over as Dom pauses the DVD, rewinds it, then replays it.
I love you, Dom. Don’t hate me.
I love you, Dom. Don’t hate me.
I love you, Dom. Don’t hate me.
I step hesitantly into his bedroom to find him sitting on an ottoman in front of the TV, staring at the screen. The DVD player is on, and the envelope from Emma is open now, lying in torn pieces next to him.
Dominic’s face is closed, drawn, cold.
He doesn’t look up at me, but he knows I’m here.
“I did, you know. I hated her. For years, I’ve loved her and hated her. But since she was gone, I focused that hate on Cris. I never, in a million years, would have thought I should be focusing on Sin. I hate her, Jacey. She knew she was going to kill herself. She planned it out and recorded this fucking DVD as an apology. Then she left it for me in my car. I didn’t find it until the day after she died. I’ve never opened the envelope because I didn’t want to know what she had to say.”
His voice is icy cold, as cold as he believes his heart to be. It breaks mine.
“Dom,” I start out, rushing to him. I drop to my knees in front of him, grabbing his hands. He lets me hold them, but he doesn’t grip mine. His are as cold as his voice.
“Dom, it’s okay to hate her. I know that part of you does. But the other part loves her, and that’s okay, too. This is a fucked-up situation. It really is. And it’s a situation that you’ve carried on your back for years. There’s no wonder that you feel so fucked up.”
He stares at me, his eyes so dark. “Is this supposed to help?”
I ignore the icy tone. “I think part of what made it so terrible is that it was all a secret. You felt you couldn’t talk about it. But now it’s all out in the light where everyone can see. In order to get past something, you have to confront it. And it will be so much easier now that you can see what you’re dealing with.”
“I don’t want to see it,” Dominic says limply, turning off the TV. Emma’s face disappears, a black screen remaining where she had been. “I want to forget that any of it ever happened. I don’t even want to look at Sin. It’ll be a long time before I can do that.”
My heart hurts as I stare at him.
“I understand, “I tell him. “The natural reaction would be to bury it and try not to think about it. But I don’t know that’s the healthiest thing do to, or even if it’ll be possible. And Dom. Just so you know, Sin is gutted over this. He was just a kid, like you, and he never realized the ramifications of his actions.”
Dominic closes his eyes. “Please, just don’t talk about Sin with me. I’m pissed at the entire world right now, Jacey. I’m not sure that you should be here with me. I should probably be alone. I’m not fit company.”
“I would be surprised if you were,” I tell him honestly. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you alone. I’ll go downstairs and hang out by myself. And if you want to talk to someone—even if you want to vent and yell, come get me.”
Dominic nods slowly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
“You exist,” I tell him honestly. “You exist and I love you. All of you. All of the monsters and the hate and the ugliness. And the goodness and the honesty and person that I know you are deep down.”
Dominic closes his eyes and I slip from the room.
Chapter Thirty
Dominic
I sit for quite some time, but eventually the room closes in on me, dark and silent. The walls cave in and I swing at them, punching a hole into the drywall. But it’s not enough. I glance into the mirror and hate how destroyed I look, so I pick up a heavy stone vase and throw it into the mirror. It all shatters onto the floor.
Within a minute, Jacey appears in the door, hesitant and beautiful. “Are you OK?” she asks as she stares at the broken glass.
I stare at her, hard.
“No.”
She takes a step toward me, but I stop her.
“No,” I tell her. “Don’t come in. It’s ugly in here, Jacey.”
“I want to help,” she says softly. “Tell me how to help, Dom.”
I shake my head, staring at her. All of the feelings that I’ve suppressed so long—combined with the new ones that I have over Sin’s betrayal—come bubbling to the surface, and I feel consumed by them. Consumed by the ugliness.
“You want to help?” I ask between my teeth, taking a step toward her. “Fine. Come help, Jacey.”
I don’t see her. Not really. I see her blond hair, her goodness, her innocence, and my pain. I see a lot of my pain. And my pain fuels my anger.
Jacey willingly steps into the room, right up to me.
“Go ahead,” she says quietly, like she knows what I want to do. Like she knows what I need to do to get rid of this godforsaken pain.
I grab her arms, hard, shoving her onto the bed as I hover over her. “I’ve told you not to be with me,” I snarl. “I told you. I warned you. You should’ve listened.”
Jacey stares at me, unafraid, as I wrap my fist in the hair at her neck, pulling her to me to kiss her ferociously. There’s nothing tender in my kiss. There’s ugliness there. Roughness. Hatred and pain.
