Dom blanches.
The color drains from his face so fast I’m almost worried he’s going to pass out. Then his expression shutters, closing down with the practiced speed of someone who’s spent a lifetime hiding his vulnerabilities.
“No idea what you mean,” he says, reaching for his beer with studied casualness.
“Really.” I raise an eyebrow. “The Dom I used to know wouldn’t be this nonchalant. Didn’t you used to have?—“
“Fuck all the way off, Mason.”
“I could get you an autographed photo, if you want.” I’m enjoying this now—the rare pleasure of seeing Dominic Romano off-balance. “Maybe she’d sign your leather jacket. Or…maybe something else if you ask nicely enough.”
“I don’t give a shit about an autograph.” He takes a long swig of beer, but not before I catch the pink flush spreading across his cheekbones.
“You’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“It’s warm in here.” He gestures vaguely at the kitchen. “Old houses, you know. Bad insulation.”
“Uh huh.” I lean back in my chair, feeling something that might almost be amusement for the first time in days. “I’m sure the fact that your childhood celebrity crush is thrashing in a nest a few rooms away has nothing to do with it.”
Dom glares at me with enough intensity to start a small fire. “You’re an asshole.”
Now this feels good. This is what I forgot I’ve been missing for years. “But am I wrong?”
He drums his fingers on the table. “Keep talking and I am going to kill you.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Nah, you’d miss me too much.”
The words slip out before I can stop them. For a moment, we both freeze—caught in the echo of a friendship that used to include casual death threats and insults as terms of endearment.
Dom’s expression does something complicated. “Yeah,” he admits quietly. “I would.”
The air shifts between us. Some of the tension bleeds away, replaced by something older and more familiar. We’re not okay—there’s too much history, too much hurt, too many unanswered questions for that—but for the first time since I arrived in this town, I can almost imagine a world where we might be able to get there.
“Anyway,” I say, clearing my throat. “About that autograph…”
Dom stands abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. “I’m going to go see if Mabie wants one of these burgers.”
“Mabie went to stay with a friend for a few days. Which you should remember, since that was your idea.”
Dom freezes with his hand already reaching for the takeout bag.
The flush on his cheeks has spread to his ears now, visible even in the dim kitchen light. He looks genuinely flustered—a state I’ve rarely seen him in and am thoroughly enjoying.
“Right.” He straightens, abandoning the bag. “Then I’m going to the attic. To check on Judah.”
He disappears through the doorway as my laughter follows him.
TWENTY-FOUR
PHOENIX
I snap awake fast enoughthat it makes my head ache.
