Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“One, we don’t have to do this. If you’d rather pick up Harley on your own, you can. You’ve been successfully doing this exchange for years and don’t need me to step in and fight a fight you’ve got handled.” He lifts our entwined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. His acknowledgment of what I’ve had to handle on my own is appreciated. Not necessary, but appreciated.
“Two, I am more than happy to go with you. I’m not scared of Tyler. And you don’t need to be scared of how I will react. I’m steady. I’m good. I’m there for you and for Harley, not to measure dicks with Tyler and see whose is bigger.”
Dominic’s is. But I get his point.
I sigh, letting myself sink back into the headrest and stare at the truck ceiling. “You might be steady, but Tyler won’t be.” That’s the understatement of the century. Tyler has mentioned Dominic at every handover since the hospital, and even superficial things like the size of their trucks is going to stick in Tyler’s craw, so I hesitate to imagine what will happen when Harley happily greets Dominic, climbs in his truck, and we head off to his hockey game tonight. “Please don’t let him provoke you into doing something stupid.”
“Me? Do something stupid? I would never.” Dominic sounds like the hockey bro he sometimes is, which gives me second, third, and fourth thoughts.
As he comes to the last stoplight before our turn into the park, my brain is spinning out with all the possibilities. “Maybe this is a bad idea,” I say, nibbling on my bottom lip.
“Or maybe you’re letting Tyler determine your peace.”
The reminder hurts. I have done that for too long, so long that I thought I was being mature and smart by not setting Tyler off, but I have given him too much control, for way longer than I should’ve.
Dominic lets go of my hand and reaches up, his hand going around the nape of my neck, where he massages the stress away. “I’m not fighting you on this. Or on anything. We’re not against each other here. I’m following your lead. You’re in control. So I won’t go if you don’t want me to. But don’t decide that based on Tyler. Decide based on you . . . and me . . . and us.”
And that’s what makes up my mind for me.
Dominic isn’t trying to substitute his authority for mine. He’s supporting me, something no one—and especially no man—in my life has ever done. His ability to stand quietly behind me, staunchly beside me, and protectively in front of me at any given time is reassuring in a way I can’t explain.
Safety.
Surprisingly, that’s it. This big feeling working through me actually can be summed up in one little word. Dominic makes me feel safe to rage, safe to fight, safe to disengage, safe to be happy, safe to be . . . me. And that’s a precious treasure to a woman who has felt disposable her whole life.
“Let’s do it.”
This could not have gone worse if I’d imagined the absolute worst-case scenario. And to be clear, I did. Several times, in fact. Still, an actual fistfight with bloodshed and police might’ve been preferable to this.
But, because this is my life and Tyler will do anything he can to screw me over, here we are.
He no-showed at the park. At first, I thought he was doing his usual power move of being late, and I expected him to eventually roll in with Amber in tow, trying to rub her existence in my face (as if I care). But when I finally called Harley, asking if they were close by, Tyler had him put the call on speaker and said he’d meet me at Harley’s game.
The game that started at six thirty p.m. The game Harley is currently on the ice playing. The game where me, Dominic, Tyler, and of course Amber are sitting in the bleachers like we’re some happily blended coparenting group.
Except Tyler keeps sniping at me and Dominic with cutting remarks. Meanwhile, Dominic greeted Amber politely, shook Harley’s coach’s hand, saying he’d heard great things about him, offered to sign autographs for the kids, and has been generally completely chill. The only sign that he’s not being totally casual about all of this has been the honestly reassuring constant visual check-ins with me.
Oh, I know he’s not as cool, calm, and collected as he’s making himself out to be, but his restraint is attractive as hell, especially given that I’m dangerously close to breaking my own gray rock decree and responding to one of Tyler’s scathing comments. That will only serve his purposes, I remind myself.
“Why are you here? You’re not his dad.”
Completely ignoring Tyler, Dominic cheers as Harley moves the puck down the ice and attempts a shot on the net. “Good hustle!”