Chapter 19

Coffee was too strong, or maybe it was just me, everything feels too strong lately, smells too sharp, light too bright, voices too loud, like my nerves don’t have skin anymore. i sat there with the mug in my hands, steam rising in my face, supposed to feel warm and safe or whatever but it didn’t, it felt like my heart was thumping so loud it drowned out the taste. i didn’t sleep. obviously i didn’t. every time i closed my eyes i was right back there, Dom’s hands on me, Dom’s voice low, rough, the way he said he couldn’t stay like it mattered to him, like it hurt him but not enough to stay. i kept waking up sweaty, covers twisted, head full of him. i hate it. i hate that i let it happen and i hate that i can’t stop replaying it.

Dad walked in like nothing, like he always does, crisp shirt tucked in, tie already perfect like he doesn’t even breathe, like he’s made of something harder than the rest of us. he looked at me once, then again, too long, too sharp, and i swear my blood froze. “you’re up early,” he said, just casual, reaching for the creamer even though he never uses it. i couldn’t even look at him right. “yeah, couldn’t sleep,” i said, shoulders up like it was no big deal but i could feel my face burning, like my skin was betraying me.

he took his coffee black, leaned there against the counter, eyes on me over the rim. “you look flushed. everything okay?” and that’s when i thought i might actually scream because no, nothing is okay, everything is spinning and i can’t breathe but i laughed instead, stupid high laugh that didn’t even sound human. “dreaming. probably the heater.” i said it too fast, too shaky.

he raised an eyebrow. “heater’s been at sixty-eight for weeks.”

my fingers tightened around the mug, knuckles white. i wanted to tell him to stop looking at me like that, to stop digging. “maybe it’s just me then,” i muttered, swallowing hot coffee like it might burn the lies out of me.

“dreaming, huh?” he asked again, slower this time, like he was testing me, watching me twitch. my stomach dropped. “not really. just… random,” i said, almost choking on it.

dad’s mouth curved but it wasn’t a smile, not really, it was the kind of look that makes you feel stripped down to the bone. “you’re a terrible liar, Izzy.”

i wanted to crawl out of my skin. my pulse was wild, but i forced this fake smirk like it was some kind of game. “guess i’ll work on that.”

he checked his watch, sipped his coffee like nothing, and said, “we’re leaving in ten. don’t make me wait.”

as soon as he left i dropped the act, just exhaled so hard it hurt. my mug clinked against the counter and i thought—he almost saw it, i almost cracked right there. i can’t let him know. i can’t let anyone know. not about Dom, not about how i feel like i’m coming apart.

shower. hot water pounding my skin, trying to scrub him off me, scrub the memory out but it didn’t work. i rubbed until my skin was raw but i still felt him. i still saw his eyes, that broken look before he walked out. i keep telling myself i hate him for leaving but part of me still wanted him to stay. i don’t even know what’s wrong with me anymore.

mask on. dressed, composure faked, stood by the door ready to play normal daughter. dad didn’t notice or maybe he did and he’s just waiting. he’s always waiting. the drive was quiet, him talking numbers on the phone, clipped voice like knives, and me staring out the window at wet streets blurring together, thinking about Dom, thinking about the gravity of it, how i don’t want it but i can’t escape it either.

the office felt… wrong. like everyone knew something. people moving fast, whispering, machines humming louder than usual. i buried myself in little tasks, typing nonsense emails, sorting lists, shoving paper around like it mattered. my eyes kept sliding toward the hallway. i hated myself for it. mid-morning i saw him, Dom, talking to a foreman, didn’t even glance at me but i felt it anyway. like a string pulling tight between us. i almost couldn’t breathe.

lunch came and i thought i’d get away, step outside into the air, let it cool me down. i leaned against dad’s truck just to feel something solid. he was there too, scrolling his phone. “lunch?” he asked. i said sure, smiled like it wasn’t breaking me.

we went to that diner, the one with cracked vinyl booths and menus laminated so many times the corners are curling. he talked business, contracts, projects, words that slid right past me. i nodded, smiled in the right places, but my brain was somewhere else. halfway through his sandwich he stopped, looked at me too hard. “you’re quiet today.”

i ripped the napkin apart in tiny shreds. “just tired,” i said, voice small.

he watched me for a second, then nodded like he made a decision. “get rest. you’re no use to me burned out.” and i almost laughed at that, because burned out isn’t even close to what i am.

back at the office i drowned myself in invoices. numbers numbers numbers. still, i felt him. Dom passed by a couple times, and once our eyes met. just for a second. it was enough to make my hand shake so bad the ink smeared. i ducked my head, pretending to write, heart hammering so hard i thought someone would hear it.

end of the day came, finally, but it didn’t feel like relief. it felt heavier, like something building. dad probably thinks i’m fine, maybe he bought my lies, but i know better. the cracks are there. i feel them widening.

and when they split open—i don’t know what’s going to happen. i don’t know who will see it first. dad or Dom. and i don’t know which one is worse.