Page 163 of Down Knot Out
The corner of my mouth lifts. “So, with that settled, who’s calling the bank in the morning?”
Blake laughs, the sound rumbling up from his chest. “I nominate Nat. It’s his father we have the loan with.”
With the issue of the deadline settled, we talk about next steps as we drink our beverages and eat our cookies. Then the pack disperses for the night to sleep.
Dominic’s fingers lace with mine as he pulls me away from my bedroom door and down the quiet hallway.
“Where are we going?” I whisper, though I know the answer.
His thumb traces circles on my wrist, sending shivers up my arm. “To my room. I want to give you something.”
When we reach his door, he pauses, fingers on the handle. For a moment, uncertainty crosses his face before he pushes the door open and guides me inside.
Dominic’s pheromones saturate his room, his citrus and musk enfolding me. Unlike Blake’s forest room or Holden’s homey clutter, his space is minimalist. Charcoal sheets and blankets cover a king-sized bed, a single dresser of dark wood, anda chair in the corner with a book splayed open on the seat.
The only personal touches are framed architectural drawings on the walls and a small collection of polished stones on the windowsill.
He closes the door behind us with a soft click. The lamp on his bedside table casts a warm glow across the room, turning the shadows gold at the edges.
“I’ve been waiting for the right moment.” He crosses to the dresser and opens the top drawer, reaching into the back corner. “After everything with the Sinclairs, it felt like we needed to close that chapter completely.”
My pulse quickens as he turns back to me, holding a small velvet box in his palm. The navy blue velvet shows wear at the edges, faded in spots as if handled many times over the years.
“This isn’t what you think.” He fiddles with the box. “Not exactly.”
I step closer, drawn by curiosity and the hint of vulnerability in his expression. “What is it?”
He opens the box with careful fingers. Inside, nestled in faded satin, lies a delicate silver ring with a soft blue stone that catches the lamplight and throws it back in flecks of azure and indigo.
“I bought this for you in high school.” Emotionroughens his voice. “Sophomore year, after winter formal. Do you remember?”
My breath catches in my throat as the night floods back to me in fragments. Snowflakes melting in his dark hair. The way his arms felt around my waist as we danced. His mouth hesitant on mine in the backseat of his car afterward.
Our first real kiss.
Tears sting my eyes. “You saved it all this time?”
He lifts the ring from its nest. “I was going to give it to you when our courtship was confirmed. Had this whole speech planned.” His laugh holds no humor. “Then everything happened with your family, and…”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it.” The old hurt is there, but duller now, a scar rather than an open wound.
“I should have been stronger.” His fingers close around the ring. “I should have told them to go to hell.”
I touch his wrist, his pulse fluttering beneath my fingertips. “We were kids, Dom. And we’re past that now.”
He takes a shuddering breath. “I kept the ring. Even when I thought I’d never see you again, I couldn’t let it go.”
“Why?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
“Because I bought it with money I earned myself, not my family’s, which is why it’s not a diamond.” He uncurls his fingers, offering the ring to me again. “It was the first decision I ever made that wasn’t filtered through what my parents wanted.”
I take the ring, its slight weight in my palm, the silver still warm from his skin.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, either. I never imagined we’d make it back to each other.” I raise my head, a grin spreading over my lips. “But look at us now. We both escaped from toxic families.”
“And built better lives.” His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing over my lower lip.
I slide the ring onto my finger, and it somehow fits, even after all the years, as if it was meant to be there all along. “We made it.”
