In Love With Him

Chapter 64

Dominic POV

I stared at myself in the mirror while buttoning up my shirt. My eyes were bloodshot. Skin pale. Expression hollow.

I hated myself.

I hadn’t gone straight to Amber’s house. I couldn’t. Not sober.

So I stopped at the bar first. Sat in the back corner. Slammed shot after shot of whiskey until the buzz numbed me enough to move without shaking. I didn’t get blackout drunk — just drunk enough to survive tonight. Just enough so I wouldn’t feel it.

Feel her.

Feel the way her skin wasn’t soft like Kennedy’s. The way her perfume was synthetic and sharp instead of coconut and vanilla. The way it felt mechanical. Like a transaction.

Because that’s all it was.

Sex, in exchange for silence.

I didn’t say a word to Amber the entire time. Not before. Not during. Not after.

I couldn’t even look at her.

Now I was slipping my boots back on, tying the laces aggressively, trying to stop my hands from shaking.

Amber sat on her bed in nothing but her underwear and bra, legs crossed, watching me with a satisfied smile. Like she was proud of herself. Like she thought she meant something.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re amazing?” she said dreamily. “I’m not just saying that. You truly are.”

I said nothing. My jaw clenched tight enough to crack.

I wanted to scream. To punch a wall. To wipe this night from my memory.

Amber sighed, stretching like a smug cat basking in the afterglow. “Just so you know… my end of the bargain is going smoothly. I’ve been very nice to your little stepsister.”

My stomach turned.

She continued casually, like we were talking about the weather. “To be honest, she’s actually not that bad. I could almost see myself being friends with her.”

I froze mid-lace and looked up slowly, my eyes dark. “Then why don’t you?”

Her smirk faltered.

I pressed again, voice lower now. “What did she ever do to you? Why do you hate her so much?”

Amber’s expression flickered — a second of something real. Hurt? Jealousy? Regret? I couldn’t tell.

But then she blinked it away and smirked again. “Don’t worry about it.”

That pissed me off more.

I stood up, towering over her. “You want me to keep showing up every week? You better tell me.”

Her face dropped a little. Her confidence cracked just a hairline.

“…She just reminds me of everything I used to be,” she muttered, eyes flicking away. “Before I got tired of being invisible.”

I didn’t say anything. Just stared.

Amber rolled her eyes and grabbed her robe, tugging it over her shoulders. “As long as you keep up your part of the deal, I’ll keep mine. I’ll see you next Friday. Same time.”

I didn’t respond.

I just left.

Walked out the door and straight into the cool air, letting it bite my skin. Letting it sober me up.

My body was here, but my mind was somewhere else — back on the couch, with Kennedy’s head on my shoulder. Her hand on my arm. Her breath hitching when my fingers slipped between her thighs.

That had been real.

This? This was hell.

I didn’t go home right away.

After leaving Amber’s house, I drove back to the bar — the same one I hit before heading to her place. I needed more. More than a buzz, more than numbness. I needed to disappear.

The whiskey went down faster this time. My throat didn’t even flinch. Shot after shot until the burn didn’t register anymore. Until I forgot what my name was, what I’d just done, who I was doing it for.

By the time I stumbled into the house, it was past one in the morning. The place was dark. Quiet. Everyone asleep.

I didn’t head upstairs.

Instead, I went out the back door, dragging my heavy feet through the cold grass until I was standing at the edge of the pool. My reflection in the still water stared back at me like a stranger — eyes glazed, face pale, wet hair curling slightly at my temples from the mist in the air.

God, I looked like my father.

That thought hit harder than it should have.

The guilt was crushing. The deal with Amber, the lies to Kennedy, the fact that I was using my body to protect the only person who made me feel like I was worth something. The person I’d do anything for… except the one thing I wanted to do. Be honest. Be hers.

I closed my eyes and let the night press against me. Cold. Empty.

I wasn’t going to lie — drowning didn’t sound so bad right now.

I took one slow step forward… and let myself fall.

The water swallowed me whole.

It was cold, sharp, a slap to the skin… but under it, there was a strange kind of peace. Everything went silent. No more noise. No more guilt. Just me, floating. Drifting.

Maybe I could stay here.

Just… disappear.

I don’t know how long I was under. Long enough for my lungs to scream, long enough for my thoughts to start dimming.

Then I felt it — something hit the water next to me. Fast. Hard. Someone was pulling at me, strong arms wrapping around my chest and dragging me upward.

We broke the surface in a rush, and I gasped, water pouring from my mouth as I stumbled toward the shallow end, coughing and panting. My body felt like lead.

I wiped my eyes, blinking against the moonlight — and froze.

Kennedy.

She was standing there in the pool next to me, chest heaving, her clothes soaked and clinging to her body.

“What the f**k, Dominic?!” she shouted, water streaming down her face. “You scared me!”

I couldn’t speak.

She saved me.

I just stared at her, water dripping from my hair, guilt mixing with disbelief.

She mumbled something under her breath — something about me being drunk again — and wrapped her arm around my waist. “Come on,” she said sharply, “before you get a cold.”

I didn’t fight her. I let her drag me into the house, every part of me trembling. My heart. My mind. My legs. I held onto her, breathing her scent — vanilla and coconut — and hating myself more with every step.

When we made it up the stairs, she guided me into my room and shut the door behind us.

I staggered in the dim light, water soaking the hardwood floor beneath my boots. My body was too heavy to move properly. I leaned against the wall as she stepped closer and started peeling off my wet shirt.

Her fingers worked quickly, tugging the fabric free from my arms. She tossed it aside, then crouched to unlace my boots. I watched her — watched the rise and fall of her chest, the way her damp hair clung to her cheekbones. She was beautiful. Even soaked. Especially soaked.

She stood back up and unbuttoned my jeans. My breath caught.

She was quiet, focused — but her fingers slowed slightly, and I didn’t miss the way her eyes lingered on my chest, then drifted down my stomach.

Her cheeks flushed pink.

She pulled off my jeans, leaving me in nothing but my boxers. Her eyes flicked away, and she quickly pushed me on the bed, grabbed the blanket and tossed it over me.

“There,” she muttered. “You’ll warm up faster.”

She turned like she was about to leave.

I didn’t think. I just reached out, gently grabbing her wrist.

“Stay,” I whispered.

She froze.

Her eyes met mine — confused, unsure, nervous… but there was something else there, too.

Longing.

She didn’t say anything. She just nodded slowly.

Her hands moved to the hem of her wet shirt. She pulled it over her head, revealing a simple black bra. Then came her shorts, sticking slightly to her damp skin. She peeled them off, leaving her in just her underwear.

My breath caught in my throat.

She climbed into the bed beside me and lay on her side, back facing me.

Without hesitation, I moved closer, wrapping my arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me. My chest pressed against her bare back, her warmth seeping into my cold skin like sunlight after a storm.

She fit against me perfectly.

I buried my face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in. Her hand slid over mine, fingers gently threading together.

For the first time in what felt like forever… I felt safe.

Whole.

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t have to.

I just held her, listening to her soft breaths.

And I fell asleep.