DOM: Alliance Series Book Three (40)

I turn my gaze out the window, willing that coldness to fill me again.

“I’ve been trying to call her,” King growls at Dom. “She’s not answering her phone.”

My lips tremble, and I hate that I don’t know whether he’s telling the truth.

“Is she with you?” King’s voice is different now. Worried?

I can feel Dom looking at me, but I don’t reply. Not to either of them.

“Dom—” King starts.

“You don’t deserve her.” Dominic ends the call.

No one deserves me.

Just like no one wants me around.

As silence once again fills the vehicle, I focus on breathing.

Inhale.

Exhale.

But the breathing doesn’t work. It doesn’t push away the awful feelings inside me.

Squeezing my hands together in my lap, I walk through the steps my therapist taught me to get back into the present.

Three things I see. Tree. Exit sign. Red pickup truck.

Three things I hear. The tires on the road. The rumble of the engine. Dominic’s exhales.

I take another slow breath.

Three body parts. I wiggle my toes. I straighten my fingers. I lift my shoulders, then let them drop.

It’s all still there. All the badness. But some of the numbness is there, too.

Staring down at my lap, I ask a question I already hate myself for. But I need to ask it all the same. “Did King have anything to do with this? With you and me?”

Dom doesn’t answer for a long heartbeat, and the first tendrils of betrayal flicker in my vision.

But then he replies. “No. It was just me.”

Dom clears his throat, and then something is being set on my thigh.

My phone.

“If you wanted to check.” He moves his hand back to the steering wheel. “See if he’s telling the truth.”

I don’t know when he took my phone, but I slowly pick it up and see the settings have been changed to do not disturb.

I wait for one painful moment as I turn off the setting, and the screen fills with notifications.

Calls from King.

Texts from King.

He’s been trying to call me since we left.

Gross guilt fills my stomach for thinking he might be a part of this.

I open the texts and scroll through them with shaking hands.

King: Come back.





King: Are you okay?





King: Why were you crying?





King: Answer your phone.





King: I’m sorry if I was harsh.





King: Val, answer me.





King: Please reply to me.





King: I’m going to tell Savannah.





King: Don’t make me tell her.





King: I’m sorry I didn’t stop him.





King: Just tell me you’re okay.





New tears, real tears, start to fall from my eyes.

Because King wasn’t lying.

But none of it scrapes away the ugly doubt clinging to my ribs. Because King is an honorable man. And he’s probably reacting this way because of familial obligation.

And I’m so fucking sick of being an obligation. A burden. The relative who doesn’t fit. The one who gets a chair at the table out of pity. Because she has nowhere else to go.

I sniff, the tears still falling.

And that’s not fair.

It’s not fair to King or Savannah or Aspen. Because maybe they are trying. But it doesn’t change the facts. And it doesn’t change history.

I wipe at my cheeks.

It’s nice that King called me.

But I’ll get myself out of this situation. Just like I’ve gotten myself out of all the ones before it.

I type a reply to King.

Me: Sorry, my—





Delete.

Me: My phone was off. I’ll call you later. I’m okay—





Delete.

Me: My phone was off. I’ll be okay.





Send.

I won’t be anyone’s burden anymore.





CHAPTER 18





Dom





I’m trying to keep my attention on the road so I don’t kill us, but I can’t stop looking at Valentine.

Did King have anything to do with this? With you and me?

Why the fuck would she ask something like that?

Were we not standing in front of the same King just a few hours ago? That man was ready to rip my fucking head off. His anger today rivaled his anger from those months ago when he thought I was being shady with his wife.

I don’t know why Val would be doubting him, but based on the amount of scrolling she did on her phone, I think King was telling the truth about trying to reach her.

But she doesn’t call him back. And after she sends a text, I glance over and see her turning her phone off.

What the hell?

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel.

I really felt like I had a good idea of who Valentine was, but her reaction to all of this has me second-guessing some things.