Alpha Mate at the Gas Station

Chapter 18: Stake and woods

Thumper POV

He was looking at me like a man who had fallen for someone worth standing beside.

And that scared me more than anything else.

Because I didn’t feel like I was that woman.

I wasn’t beautiful in the way men like him deserved. I wasn’t clever or polished. I wasn’t born into money or safety or anything that made life easier. I was just… me. A woman who kept getting pushed aside and told to make do with less.

Even after being thrown out earlier, I felt a little lighter walking into the restaurant. The warmth wrapped around me, the smell of food made my stomach ache in a way that almost felt hopeful, and the place itself was beautiful—soft lighting, careful details, people laughing quietly over plates that looked far better than anything I’d eaten in weeks.

I wanted to enjoy it.

But then there was Dominic.

The way he stared.

The way he didn’t hide it.

The way he flushed when he realized he’d been caught.

That red creeping up his neck, that small, almost embarrassed smile—it made my chest tighten. Not because it made me feel chosen.

Because it made me feel like a mistake.

Dominic deserved a woman.

Not a Thumper like me.

He said he cared. He said I mattered. He even said he loved me. But every time he spoke like that, it felt like he was lying—not to me, but to himself.

Why he kept insisting I mattered hurt more than if he’d ignored me entirely.

Once, I thought a man like my ex—strong, handsome, capable—choosing me meant I had finally won something. That I’d hit the jackpot. That I’d earned the right to feel secure.

And then he broke me.

So maybe the real problem was me.

Me believing I deserved love from men like that.

Me believing I could be enough for someone strong, successful, stable.

I wasn’t.

That truth had been proven already.

My thoughts drifted to the man mentioned from the hospital nurse—the one I’d made the appointment with and missed. The one I still needed to contact once I could think clearly, once I had a plan that didn’t rely on hope or borrowed kindness.

Because hope had always been expensive for me.

Whatever Dominic felt… it would end.

Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow.

But it would end the same way it always did.

And I needed to be ready for that—before it destroyed me all over again.

Just like with the car, he walked ahead of me to pull out my chair.

And just like before, I knew it wouldn’t last.

These things never did.

Men like him were always gentle in the beginning—three weeks, maybe a month—long enough to convince you they were different, long enough for you to let your guard down. Then the real version would show itself, and you’d be left wondering how you hadn’t seen it coming.

I had to stop him.

We would talk about this before we left—and inside myself.

I couldn’t let myself believe any of this was real.

He helped me sit, careful and patient, as if it mattered that I was comfortable. The waitress placed our menus down, and only then did I notice where we were sitting—right beside a massive window that opened to the night woods beyond the restaurant.

The trees were dark and endless. Quiet. Beautiful.

Everything about this moment looked perfect.

Everything except me.

I didn’t belong here. Not in this dress. Not at this table. Not with a man who looked like he had his life together while I was barely holding mine in place with sheer will.

Dominic had offered to take me home before we got here. He’d said we didn’t have to come here. And part of me wished I’d agreed—because going back to that house felt like walking straight into a memory I couldn’t escape.

Every time I stepped inside, I saw them.

The women who had been there that night.

The laughter.

The way they filled the space so easily.

Each visit made me feel like I was lying to myself, pretending I was welcome somewhere I was only temporarily allowed to exist.

And the worst part?

I had no one I felt safe enough to say that to.

Every so-called friend I’d ever had wasn’t really a friend at all. They wanted someone smaller than them. Someone to mock, to use, to discard once they were bored. I’d learned that lesson the hard way—over and over—until I stopped trying.

I stopped depending on anyone.

It had been just my husband and me. Or at least, that’s what I told myself at the time. That belief was the only reason I survived as long as I did.

And now?

Now I couldn’t even imagine leaning on another person without feeling like I was about to lose myself again.

So I sat there, in a beautiful place, with a man who was trying far harder than I thought anyone ever would…

And all I could think was how dangerous it felt to want to stay.

My stomach betrayed me again, twisting loud enough that I couldn’t ignore it. I picked up the menu just to give my hands something to do.

A small chicken salad.

A lamb steak with smashed potatoes.

Green beans cooked the safe way.

A glass of red wine that would make the meal feel like it belonged here.

Everything I chose was careful. Controlled. Acceptable.

I wanted something sweet—badly. The brownie with vanilla ice cream and warm chocolate syrup called to me like a promise of comfort I wasn’t allowed to have. But comfort cost money. And money turned into debt. And debt turned into ownership.

I couldn’t afford to owe Dominic dessert.

Before I could close the menu, he spoke—and the words hit a nerve I didn’t want touched.

“Please order what you want. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me. You don’t, Thumper. I’m trying to help you because I don’t want you back in that place—or worse. You can’t go back there. If you do, you won’t ever be free from society again, and as much as I want to help you, I won’t be able to.”

His voice wasn’t cruel.

That almost made it worse.

We were tucked away from the rest of the restaurant, hidden just enough that no one could hear us—and somehow that made me feel exposed. Like this conversation had weight, like it mattered more than I wanted it to.

I wanted to hurt him for saying it out loud.

For reminding me that I couldn’t pay things back the way normal people did.

For fixing problems through people he knew instead of letting me struggle through them myself.

I hated that the only thing left for me to do—the thing I despised more than anything—was depend on someone else to survive.

Because I had tried. I had worked myself into the ground. Three jobs. No rest. No help. And all it had earned me was a hospital bed and a warning that next time I might not be allowed to leave.

So what did that say about me?

I hated my life in that moment.

I hated the choices on the menu.

I hated that I was being asked to work on myself again, when every time I tried, the world seemed determined to break me back down.

I was so lost in those thoughts that I didn’t notice Dominic reaching for my hand until his fingers wrapped gently around mine.

I looked down at the contact.

At how warm his hand was.

At how steady.

And for a terrifying second, I wanted to believe again.

But fear settled in deeper than hope ever could.

Because I knew what it felt like to trust a man once—only to learn later that love could still end your life, even if it didn’t kill you the first time.