Chapter 25: Dominic Alpha
1581 Words
Walking toward Dominic, I watched him place the potatoes into the cart. The moment he looked up and saw my face, his expression shifted—concern settling in immediately, sharp and alert.
“Bunny?” he said softly. “Please talk to me. I heard what he said, and I’m trying to stay calm—but I know you’re not okay after hearing that.”
He was trying to comfort me. I could feel it in the way his voice lowered, in the way his body angled toward mine like a shield. But this wasn’t the place. And I wasn’t ready to explain how shattered I felt—not here, not with strangers passing by like nothing had just cracked inside me.
I shook my head.
He didn’t push. Instead, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight—steady, grounding—while he spoke carefully, even though it felt like my chest was collapsing inward.
“We can talk in the car,” he murmured. “I’m sorry for asking you that here. I swear I don’t want you to break. If this is too much, you can go sit in the car and I’ll finish up here.”
I shook my head again.
I didn’t want to be confined in the car. I didn’t want to sit alone with my thoughts echoing too loudly.
So we moved on.
As we continued shopping, I noticed something change in him. Subtle at first—but undeniable.
He went from giving me space, being respectful and quietly helpful, to something else entirely. His posture straightened. His gaze sharpened. He became aware of everything around us—who passed too close, who lingered too long, who looked my way for more than a second.
It was strange… but also comforting.
Like he was silently deciding that no one else would get the chance to hurt me today.
By the time we left the store, my body felt heavy—tired in that deep, emotional way that sleep doesn’t fix. Dominic loaded everything into the trunk and drove us home without rushing, without pressing.
I put music on—songs meant to soften the edges, to keep me from spiraling. I could tell he was listening, really listening, the same way he always did when lyrics mattered.
Those moments… those quiet, shared silences with him—
they were the ones I held onto the most.
Because with Dominic, I didn’t feel pressured to relax.
I just… slowly did.
Once we arrived home, we put everything away together. The routine helped more than I expected—the normalcy of it, the quiet teamwork. When the last bag was tucked away, Dominic spoke, his voice easy, almost hopeful.
“I wanted to talk to you about some things I’m working on,” he said. “I really wanted your opinion. The city’s been helping me with a few plans, and I think soon I’ll be leaving the gas station. This week I’ll be working there less and spending more time with a bigger company.”
I paused, listening.
“My dad had a family business,” he continued. “He left it to me. Since his accident, he can’t really work anymore, and after a lot of things were finally corrected and managed… I’m taking over.”
I nodded, forcing my body to stay relaxed.
Inside, though, something tightened.
I was finally starting to calm down—finally feeling like I could breathe again—but his words still landed heavy. Not because I wasn’t proud of him. I was. Genuinely. Dominic deserved every ounce of success coming his way.
But the contrast hurt.
He was moving forward. Building. Rising.
And I was still standing in the same place—unemployed, uncertain, quietly terrified of the next phone call.
I felt happy for him. I really did.
But part of me ached—soft, bitter, and tired—because I would have given anything to receive just one piece of good news of my own.
Just one sign that I wasn’t stuck forever in the aftermath of a life that had already taken so much from me.
“Bunny.”
He took my hand, and I looked up at him.
Seeing his blue eyes up close—soft beneath the brim of his fishing hat—did something to me. The blue shirt he wore clung to his chest, the college logo stretched across him like it belonged there. He looked… solid. Real. Like someone who knew where he was going.
“I know this isn’t joyful news for you,” he said gently. “But remember our contract. Remember that I really want more with you. I’m trying—and I’ll keep trying until you say yes.”
My chest tightened.
“Yes to dating me. Yes to wanting more with me,” he continued. “I won’t push you. I’m just trying to help. And if things get better, I’ll give you a position in my company. It’ll be yours. The contract will be in your favor. I don’t want you to feel less. Ever.”
The way he said it—careful, deliberate—made my throat burn.
He wasn’t trying to buy me.
He wasn’t trying to trap me.
He sounded… scared of losing me.
And that scared me right back.
Because men like him didn’t settle for women like me.
Men like him chose—and I didn’t believe I could ever be someone’s choice again.
Our first date had gone wrong. Everything felt tangled and heavy. And still… he was here. Still asking. Still trying.
With a sad smile, he backed away, giving me space like he always did. Before I could say anything, he spoke again, quieter now.
“I’m sorry if that was too much. I just don’t want you holding onto so much pain. I have something I want to show you—but I need you to feel less ambushed. Less afraid. I just need you to keep an open mind these next weeks. Please.”
The seriousness in his voice stopped me cold.
Dominic wasn’t playing.
He wasn’t chasing an idea.
He wanted me to stay.
And despite everything—despite my fear, my doubt, my history—I felt safe with him. Safer than I had in years.
I took a breath, steadying myself.
“Holding onto my peace and being brave,” I said slowly, “that’s what you told me yesterday I need to work on… right?”
He nodded, watching me closely.
“Well,” I continued, my heart pounding, “maybe we could go on a celebration date after tomorrow. Would that be—”
I didn’t get to finish.
Without warning, he stepped forward and kissed me.
Not rough.
Not desperate.
Just a soft, certain press of his lips against mine—like he’d finally reached the edge of his restraint and let himself fall.
For a second, I froze.
Then my body answered before my fear could.
And in that kiss, I felt it—
Not pressure.
Not expectation.
Just the quiet, terrifying truth that maybe…
He wasn’t settling at all.
The bell broke the moment like a crack of lightning.
Dominic groaned, low and frustrated, and I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing when he muttered,
“I’m disabling that damn doorbell.”
The sound I made escaped anyway—a soft giggle—and he turned back to me, cupping my chin just to steal another kiss. Short. Warm. Certain.
“I’ll be back, Bunny.”
He nuzzled my nose.
That simple gesture—intimate, affectionate—hit me harder than the kiss had.
He nuzzled my nose.
Called me Bunny again.
My heart hadn’t even caught up when he opened the door.
A woman’s voice carried in immediately—young, shaking, unraveling.
“Alpha… I’m sorry. I just can’t with this.”
My body stiffened.
Alpha.
The word echoed in my head, sharp and wrong, and before I could process it Dominic looked back at me, his expression apologetic but steady.
“Bunny, I’ll be right back. I’m sorry this was sudden,” he said gently. “Think of a punishment for me for interrupting us. She’s a friend—she just ended her relationship. I didn’t hear my phone ring.”
Then he stepped outside.
The door closed.
And suddenly the house felt… too quiet.
I stood there, frozen, my chest tight. The same words from that night replayed in my head—the same tone, the same desperation. My stomach twisted with a familiar, ugly feeling.
Curiosity warred with fear.
Slowly, I turned toward the table.
His phone was right there.
I told myself I wasn’t snooping.
I told myself I just needed reassurance.
I picked it up and checked the screen.
No missed calls.
Not one.
My fingers went cold.
A thousand thoughts rushed in at once—too loud, too fast—and I hated myself for how quickly my mind betrayed him. For how easily fear rewrote everything tender he’d just given me.
I set the phone back down carefully, like it might burn me.
Whatever this was…
Whatever Alpha meant…
I knew one thing for sure:
That knot in my chest wasn’t jealousy.
It was the old wound reopening—the one that whispered that kindness never comes without a cost.
And I was terrified to find out what this one would be.
- Writer
