But what if I yell for him and he doesn’t come?
He didn’t leave me.
Dominic is here; he didn’t leave me.
But no matter how many times I tell myself that, I can’t drop the disgusting worry that maybe he did.
I stumble a few more steps.
What if he left me?
There’s a part of my brain that knows I’m fine. A part that knows this is just a trauma response. More shit I need more therapy for.
But the other part of my brain is in charge right now. And that part is spiraling.
I suck in another jagged breath.
I can’t see the faces around me anymore. My vision is too fuzzy.
If they were people I knew, they’d say something. They’d get Dom.
But even with all these people, no one recognizes me.
What if everyone left?
I spot a break in the crowd ahead and push through it.
I keep going, not turning, until I find the edge of the market.
No one stops me.
No one calls my name.
I cut through the final flow of people and find an unoccupied bench on the outside of the last aisle. I lower myself onto it slowly because my knee is really starting to hurt. Once I’m seated, I set my purse in my lap, then—careful not to bump my injured palms—I pull the bowl I just bought out of its bag.
When I fell, I felt the bowl get smashed between my elbow and the ground, and I need to check to make sure I didn’t break it.
Peeling the paper away, I ignore the ache in my elbow and bite down on my lip. Hard. Because the top edge of the bowl is chipped—a piece of the shiny paint missing, revealing a jagged half-moon of dullness.
My thumb rubs over the spot as a tear drips off my cheek and splashes onto the curved surface of the bowl.
This is only a moment.
I will be happy in another moment.
I try to do the three rule thing my therapist taught me.
I try to look for three things. I try to hear three things. I try to focus on three things in my body.
But all I see are the broken parts.
Because everything breaks on Christmas.
CHAPTER 61
Val
“Angel.” Dominic’s soft voice touches me a moment before his hands land on the sides of my calves.
He’s crouched in front of me so we’re eye level.
I sniff before I look up at him. “Hi.”
Dom reaches up, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “What happened?”
“I got separated.” I sniff again.
“Don’t cry, Valentine.” He swipes another tear away.
I shift, and the stuff in my lap crinkles. “I broke the bowl.”
He looks down, noticing the dish I’m still holding.
“We’ll fix it.” Dom lifts his hands and settles them over mine so we’re holding the bowl together. But the position pushes my palms against the wood and causes me to wince.
Dominic jerks his hands back so fast it’s like I burned him.
“Sorry.” I apologize, even though I know I shouldn’t. But I don’t like making him feel bad.
He takes the bowl from my grip and sets it on the bench next to me. Then he gently grabs my wrists and turns my hands palm up, revealing the angry scrapes and the couple spots of blood.
“Who did this?” Dominic’s voice is so level. It sounds so controlled.
But I don’t think it is.
“No one.”
“Valentine.” He lets go of one hand to grip my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Who touched you?”
I try to shake my head, but I can’t with his hold on me. “It wasn’t—”
Dominic leans in closer to me, and his eyes reveal the fakeness of his calm exterior. “If someone hurts you, I will kill them. Do not attempt to stop me.”
His words lace up around me, tightening and forcing away the last of my lingering panic.
“I fell,” I whisper.
He shifts closer. His abdomen pushes against my knees, and my leg gives a little jerk.
Dominic immediately leans away, his hands moving to my thighs as he looks down at the tear in my jeans on my right knee.
“Did someone push you?”
“No.” Another whispered admission. “I tripped over a stroller.”
He looks back up at me, careful to avoid my knee. “Are you okay?”
I nod. A few more tears break free at his tender tone.
“Why are you crying, Wife?” He slides his hands up my legs until he’s gripping me under my jacket, holding my hips.
“I—” I lower my eyes to my lap. “I thought maybe you left me.”
“Left you?”
I press my fingertips onto my thighs, wishing I had something to hold.