Alpha Mate at the Gas Station

Chapter 23: Resting and calls

As the bus pulled away, Dominic turned back toward the house. The woman followed him in first—and the second her foot crossed the threshold, my phone started ringing.

The sound sliced straight through me.

I didn’t think. I just ran.

I sprinted to my bedroom and caught the call just before it died in my hand.

“Hello?” I answered, already breathless.

I regretted it immediately.

It was the front desk receptionist—the one from the appointment I had missed yesterday. Her voice was polite, rehearsed, the kind that carries disappointment without ever saying it out loud. She spoke for a long time, explaining policies, consequences, and professional courtesy, and when she finally paused, she offered me an alternative.

A makeup appointment.

Two weeks from today.

I agreed before fear could talk me out of it.

When the call ended, I sat on the edge of the bed, phone limp in my hand, staring at nothing.

At least that was handled.

I pushed myself up—ready to face the day, ready to pretend I was functional—

—and the phone rang again.

Two calls.

Two endings.

The first voice told me I’d lost my job at the family restaurant.

The second informed me the gas station had already filled my shifts.

Just like that.

No anger. No tears. No shock.

Just… emptiness.

My chest felt hollow, like something vital had been scooped out and left behind without warning. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just sat there, numb, staring at the wall while the reality settled into my bones.

I was unemployed.

Left with only one job.

Again.

And yet—

the first person I wanted to see wasn’t myself.

It was Dominic.

The thought startled me.

Last night lingered in my body—not the alcohol, but the quiet. The way he stayed. The way he didn’t demand explanations or answers. For the first time in a long while, I felt like maybe I could talk to him.

But I couldn’t tell him this.

If he knew, something inside me whispered, it would end the same way it always did. People didn’t stay when I failed too many times. My ex proved that.

I couldn’t let that happen again.

I stood up and moved on instinct, peeling out of my pajamas and opening the dresser where Dominic’s mother had placed the clothes she bought for me. The thought of her—steady, watchful, never once looking at me like I was a burden—made my throat tighten.

I chose jeans.

A soft sweater with a silly quote stitched across the front.

Normal. Safe. Harmless.

Pulling the clothes on felt like putting on armor—thin armor, but better than nothing. When I finished dressing, I took a breath and walked out of my room, determined to look fine.

In the living room, Dominic stood with the woman from next door.

I remembered her living there these past weeks. I remembered her face. Her voice.

But the details felt… blurry.

Like my mind had smudged them on purpose.

That realization scared me more than the phone calls.

I stood there, heart pounding, wondering how many other things I wasn’t remembering. Wondering if the stress had finally started stealing pieces of me I couldn’t get back.

Everything felt fuzzy.

Unstable.

Like I was standing on ground that could disappear at any moment.

And still—I walked forward.

Because even terrified, even broken, some part of me wanted to believe that this time…

someone might not walk away.

When Dominic saw me, his face softened instantly.

The smile he gave me wasn’t forced or polite—it was warm, genuine, the kind of smile that reaches the eyes before the mouth even moves. For a brief, fragile moment, I let myself enjoy it. Let myself pretend that I belonged there. That I was someone worth smiling at.

Then the woman spoke.

“I’m sorry,” she said gently. “I went behind you when I heard what you were saying on the phone. I stayed in the doorway. I overheard everything.”

My stomach dropped.

I bit the inside of my lower lip, hard, grounding myself in the sting. Being heard without permission felt like being caught naked—exposed in ways I hadn’t agreed to. Before I could say anything, Dominic turned fully toward me.

“What happened, Bunny?” he asked softly. “Please don’t lie to me. I want to know what I can do to help you.”

His voice wasn’t demanding. It wasn’t impatient. It was steady—too steady. And that terrified me more than anger ever could.

I wanted to tell him.

I wanted to trust him.

But fear curled tight in my chest, whispering that if I said the words out loud—I lost my jobs, I failed again, I’m still falling—he would see me the way everyone eventually did. Temporary. Broken. Too much effort.

Before I could gather the courage, the woman spoke again.

“You can trust him more than you trust your past, Thumper,” she said, her tone firm but kind. “He isn’t the people who hurt you. He really does care.”

She looked between us, then sighed softly.

“I came over because of last night. I helped you get changed, and I was worried about you. My kids missed their uncle,” she added with a small smile. “My husband will be home soon, so I’ll be heading out. But if you need me, ask Dominic for my number—if you don’t already have it.”

She paused, meeting my eyes directly.

“Have a good day today.”

Then she left.

The door closed behind her with a quiet finality, sealing me inside the moment I had been trying so hard to avoid.

I stood there, heart pounding, throat tight, with no witnesses left—no shields, no excuses.

Just Dominic.

And the truth pressing painfully against my ribs, begging to be let out.

Knowing it wasn’t safe to open myself completely—not yet—I chose the version of the truth that wouldn’t shatter me if it fell apart.

I moved into the kitchen, needing my hands busy, needing something normal. Dominic followed without crowding me, his presence quiet but unmistakable, like a shadow that didn’t want to frighten me away.

I pulled ingredients from the fridge, the routine soothing in a way I hadn’t expected. Bread in the toaster. Butter on the counter. The smell alone made my stomach ache with both hunger and something else—relief, maybe.

With a piece of toast half in my mouth, I finally spoke.

“I got two calls this morning,” I said, my voice muffled, casual on purpose. “Bad ones. I lost the restaurant job, and the other gas station filled my shifts. So… now it’s just the station we work at. And an appointment in a couple of weeks to see if I can get something else.”

I took another bite, chewing slowly, pretending that was all there was to it. Pretending it didn’t feel like the ground had dropped out from under me—again.

For a moment, Dominic didn’t respond. Then I heard it.

Nerves.

Not anger. Not control. Just uncertainty woven into his voice.

“Please don’t hit me or get angry for saying this,” he said carefully, taking a step back as if to give me space, “but… I’m kind of glad you have time to breathe now.”

I froze.

Toast halfway to my mouth, heart thudding hard enough that I felt it in my ears.

I stared at him, trying to understand what he meant—trying not to hear what my fear translated it into.

Yes.

I needed time.

I needed rest.

But I also needed independence.

I needed a way back into a life that belonged to me—one I could stand on without feeling like I was borrowing the ground beneath my feet.

Was he really that comfortable with me losing everything else?

Did he want me here because he cared…

or because it was easier if I had nowhere else to go?

The thought made my chest tighten painfully.

Did Dominic truly not see that depending on him wasn’t comforting to me—it was terrifying?

Because once you rely on someone too much, you give them the power to leave you with nothing.

And I had already survived that kind of ending once.