In Love With Him

Chapter 57

Kennedy POV

It was supposed to be a normal Saturday.

I got up like usual, brushed my teeth, hopped in the shower, and scrubbed my hair with the coconut and vanilla shampoo I liked. The warm water helped wake me up, rinsed the lingering sleep off my body, and gave me just a few peaceful minutes before the rest of the world intruded.

I dried off, pulled my curls into a loose towel wrap, and went through my usual routine. Deodorant. Face moisturizer. Mascara, maybe.

I tossed on a pair of soft cotton shorts and reached for my bra. Clipped it in the front, twisted it around, and slid my arms through.

That’s when I felt it.

A sharp, quick pain — almost like a sting — shot through the side of my left breast. I flinched and grunted softly, pressing my fingers to the spot where it hurt.

And that’s when I felt it.

A lump.

No bigger than a grape… but it was there. It was real.

My heart stopped. My breath caught.

No. No, no, no.

My hands trembled as I felt again just to be sure — and it was still there.

Panic exploded in my chest like a grenade. I couldn’t breathe. My entire body went cold, but I was sweating. I didn’t even realize I was crying until the hot tears blurred my vision. My throat closed in on itself.

My mom.

She died from breast cancer.

It started with a lump.

I bolted out of my room still half-dressed — just my bra and shorts — not even caring. I didn’t care about anything except one word now screaming in my head: cancer.

“Dad!” I yelled, my voice cracking. “Dad!”

I stumbled down the stairs, wiping at my face uselessly. “Dad, please!”

I looked around the living room, empty. No one answered. “Dad?!”

Dominic rounded the corner from the kitchen, his brows furrowed, a bag of chips in his hand. He froze when he saw me — chest heaving, half-dressed, and crying.

“What the hell—Kennedy, what’s wrong?” he asked, voice laced with alarm. His eyes scanned me from head to toe, searching for injury or blood.

“I—” I tried to talk, but the words got stuck.

“I need… I need my dad,” I whispered, voice barely audible.

Dominic dropped the bag of chips instantly. “He and Mom took Max to his friend’s house. They went to the store after.” He stepped toward me. “What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

The room spun.

I couldn’t catch my breath. My vision blurred again and again. My legs felt like they were giving out. My knees buckled.

Dominic caught me before I hit the floor, one arm around my back, the other steadying my waist as we sank down to the carpet together.

I gasped, my lungs refusing to cooperate. I clutched his shirt with shaking hands. “I found… I found a lump,” I choked out. “I found a lump in my boob and I—I have cancer—like my mom—I’m gonna die—”

He grabbed my face, trying to force me to look at him, to focus, but I couldn’t.

I couldn’t see.

I couldn’t think.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he said, voice low and firm but gentle. “You’re okay. We don’t know anything yet. You’re gonna be okay, Kennedy, just breathe. Just breathe—”

But I couldn’t hear him.

I was too far gone.

My throat squeezed tighter, and I was gasping now, full panic spiraling through every inch of me. The terror in my chest clawed its way up my spine. I was shaking violently. Everything was going dark around the edges.

And then suddenly—

His lips were on mine.

Dominic.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow.

It was desperate and grounding.

His hands cupped my cheeks as his mouth moved over mine, firm and intentional.

Everything stopped.

The panic paused.

Time paused.

For a few impossible seconds, the fear scattered like dust. All I could feel was him. The heat of his skin, the way his lips moved against mine, the faintest hint of his breath as he exhaled through his nose like he’d been holding it forever.

My body went still. My thoughts went silent.

And just like that—

I could breathe again.

---

Dominic POV

I panicked. I had no damn clue what else to do. She wasn’t listening. She wasn’t calming down. She was barely breathing—her skin flushed, her chest heaving in shallow gasps like she was seconds from passing out.

So I did the first thing that came to mind.

I kissed her.

My lips crashed into hers, desperate, instinctual—my own heart beating so loud I swore it echoed in the walls. I didn’t think, I just reacted.

And for a moment, nothing existed except the taste of her lips—soft, sweet, faintly flavored like strawberry lip balm and the coconut-vanilla scent that always clung to her skin.

She froze under me.

Then slowly—so slowly—she relaxed.

Her breathing started to change. I heard it. She inhaled deep through her nose, the gasping stopped.

She didn’t pull away.

I was about to. I should have.

But her hand reached up, fingers trembling as they brushed the back of my neck and gently pulled me closer. Then her lips parted just slightly, her tongue barely grazing my bottom lip.

She was asking.

And I couldn’t say no.

I opened my mouth to hers, and the world melted away.

Heat roared through my veins, hotter than any flame.

I don’t know how long we kissed—seconds? Minutes? Hours?

All I know is I didn’t want it to stop.

When we finally did, both of us breathless, I just stared into her eyes—those wild, beautiful eyes, still damp from tears, but now filled with something else entirely.

Longing. Need.

She looked at me like I was the only person left on Earth.

I was about to lean in again, to kiss her slower this time, to tell her with my mouth what I couldn’t say with words—

Then I heard it.

The click of the front door.

Shit.

I turned toward the noise just as my mom and Paul walked through the entryway, grocery bags in their arms, laughing about something—until Paul turned and saw us.

Me kneeling on the floor.

Kennedy still half-dressed.

My hands still on her face.

His face went red so fast I thought a blood vessel might pop.

“WHAT THE f**k IS THIS?!”

I instantly let go, my hands shooting into the air like I was caught robbing a bank.

Paul dropped the bags and was on his knees in a flash, grabbing Kennedy by the shoulders. “Did he hurt you? Did he do anything?!”

Kennedy blinked at him, dazed, still rattled from everything.

“I didn’t do s**t,” I snapped, anger flaring even though I tried to keep it in check. “She was having a panic attack—I was trying to calm her down. She came downstairs like that. I didn’t touch her. I would never hurt her.”

Paul looked ready to deck me. His fists clenched at his sides when he stood.

I was about to defend myself again when Kennedy finally spoke.

“It’s true,” she said softly, her voice still raw.

She stood between us, shielding me from her dad, barefoot, chest rising and falling steadily now.

“I thought I found a lump in my breast,” she continued, her eyes shining. “I panicked. I thought… I thought I had cancer like Mom. I couldn’t breathe.” She turned slightly, looking back at me. “Dominic helped me. He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to.”

Technically, she wasn’t lying.

But God… hearing her say it like that still made my heart twist.

Paul looked at her, then at me. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders deflated.

“Go put a shirt on,” he said to her, voice tired and laced with concern.

Kennedy nodded and headed upstairs.

I stood there, fists still clenched, trying to keep myself from boiling over.

Then I felt a gentle hand press against my chest.

It was Mom.

She looked at me with soft eyes—the same eyes that used to calm me down when I was a kid and threw tantrums over broken toys or an angry teen ready to punch someone.

“It’s okay,” she said in a low voice. “You did the right thing. She needed you. Don’t beat yourself up for caring.”

I swallowed hard and gave a small nod.

She smiled gently and said, “Why don’t you go relax before dinner? We’re having tacos tonight.”

I needed air.

Without a word, I walked toward the back sliding door, pushing it open and stepping outside.

The sun was setting over the yard, painting the sky in orange and purple streaks.

I leaned against the porch railing, closed my eyes, and exhaled.

And all I could think was:

I kissed her.

And she kissed me back.