Chapter Thirty Five

Dominic's Pov

When things got so heavy that even breathing felt like work, the only thing I could think to do was go home.

Patrick kept shading Catherine, saying things he had no right to say. I tried to ignore it. I really did. But something inside me snapped.

I hit him.

By the time I got back to the house, my hands were still shaking. I packed my bag, left a short note for Alice, and caught the next train to Grandma’s.

After my parents’ divorce, she was the only place that still felt… safe. Stable. Like things hadn’t completely fallen apart yet.

When my best friend started acting like shit and the girl I loved felt so far out of reach, her house was the only place I knew to run to.

She welcomed me like always—then immediately put me to work in the kitchen.

“Are you sure you coming here has nothing to do with your father?” she asked, handing me the salt.

I put it back. “He’s not even in town.”

“Business trip?”

“I guess,” I said. Honestly, I had no idea. These days, he barely came home, and when I do see him, it’s with some random woman I don’t bother questioning.

“You men,” Grandma sighed. “Your mother gave him everything, and he still walked away.”

“She wasn’t perfect,” I said quietly.

“She tried,” Grandma replied. “And sometimes, that’s everything.”

I didn’t answer. Talking about my parents always made my chest feel tight.

The kitchen smelled like roasted corn and pepper. The rice was almost ready.

“How’s Alice?” she asked.

“She’s… okay.”

She looked at me closely. “So she’s not the reason you’re here.”

Her eyes looked nothing like Dad’s.

They were softer. Kinder.

“The last time you came, you were hurting because of your parents,” she said.

“What’s wrong now?”

“I just wanted to see you,” I said with a weak smile.

She raised her eyebrow. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Grandma…”

She lifted the knife slightly. “Talk.”

I sighed. “I fought with my friend.”

She froze, then slowly set the knife down and touched my arm. “Are you hurt?”

I shook my head.

She exhaled. “You boys and your tempers. Fighting won’t fix everything.”

Then she looked at me again. “What was it about?”

I stared at the floor.

“…My crush.”

Grandma starts repeating my words, “Your crush.”

I nod, “Her name is Catherine, She's Alice's best friend.”

I needed to let it out, hardly taking it any longer. Grandma moved closer, “Wait. The girl Alice has been telling me about?” She asks.

“She's really pretty.” I say

“Alice tells me the same thing.”

“Yeah. She is and I feel so guilty, Grandma.” I let it out. “I feel like shit. I did some things to her and I hate myself for it.”

“What did you do?” She asks.

Grandma repeated my words quietly.

“Your crush.”

I nodded. “Her name is Catherine. She’s Alice’s best friend.”

Saying it out loud made my chest hurt more. Like everything I’d been trying to hide was finally catching up to me.

I couldn’t keep it in anymore.

Grandma took a seat. “Wait… the girl Alice’s been telling me about?” she asked gently.

“Yeah.”

“She always says she’s beautiful.”

“She is,” I said softly. “She’s really pretty.”

“Alice tells me the same thing.”

“Yeah…” I swallowed. “She is. And I feel so guilty, Grandma.”

She studied my face. “Why, sweetheart?”

“I feel like crap,” I admitted. “I did things I shouldn’t have. I hurt her. And I hate myself for it.”

The words spilled out before I could stop them.

She didn’t judge me. She didn’t interrupt.

She just listened.

Then, quietly, she asked,

“What did you do?”

I took a long breath.

“I… I blackmailed her.”

Grandma blinked. “You what?”

My hands started sweating. I wiped them on my jeans. “She… she always saw me as Alice’s brother. Nothing more. And I hated that. I hated it so much, because she never really looked at me. Not the way I looked at her.”

My voice shook, but I kept going.

“After she broke up with her boyfriend, she came over to spend the night with Alice. But Alice wasn’t home. It was just me.”

I swallowed hard.

“She was drunk, Grandma. And I still… I still slept with her.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“I know,” I rushed. “I know it was wrong. It was messed up. I hate myself for it.”

She stood up halfway from her chair.

“Dominic—”

“And that’s not even the worst part,” I whispered.

“Dominic…”

“Please,” I said quickly, my eyes burning.

“Grandma, listen. Please.”

My voice cracked.

“I need to tell you everything.”

“She left the next morning,” I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. “She warned me not to tell Alice. She said it would ruin th.”

I looked down at my hands.

“But when Alice came back… I told her anyway. I made sure she knew. And then I used it to force Catherine to date me.”

“Dominic…” Grandma breathed.

“I know,” I said quickly. “I know it was wrong.”

My chest tightened.

“And when I found out it was only fake… that she didn’t really want me… I got angry.”

My voice broke.

“I wrote an anonymous letter to the school about her grades. They took her off the cheer team. I ruined something she loved.”

Grandma stood up so suddenly her chair scraped the floor.

Before I could react, she slapped me.

My head snapped to the side.

I didn’t even flinch.

I deserved it.

“You were such a sweet boy,” she said, her voice shaking. “What happened to you?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t deserve her, Grandma. I can’t even fight for her.”

Tears burned my eyes.

“I’m worse than her ex. Way worse.”

She looked at me for a long moment.

“Of course you are,” she said quietly.

The disappointment in her eyes hurt more than the slap.

It settled in my chest. Heavy.

I hated myself too.

She turned off the gas and stood there in silence.

I used to think the accident was punishment enough. That almost dying would somehow erase what I’d done. That it would balance things out.

But then I saw her walk into that room.

Pale. Weak. Like a ghost.

I knew.

I hadn’t paid even half the price.

“Does your sister know about this?” Grandma asked quietly.

“I… I think she suspects,” I said, letting out a shaky breath. “But I don’t really know.”

She nodded slowly.

Then she looked at me again.

“You ran all the way here,” she said, her voice low, “just to tell me that my grandson is a bad person.”

I swallowed.

Because it was the truth.

“Dominic. What’s her name?”

“Huh?” My voice came out small.

“What's this girl’s name?” she pressed.

My chest ached. “Catherine.”

Grandma stayed quiet. My mind was already on her—on Catherine.

“Have you… apologized to her?” she asked.

Tears pricked my eyes, but I couldn’t look at Grandma. I couldn’t even look at myself. I thought of Catherine, of everything I’d done. How I’d taken advantage of her, forced her into things she didn’t want. My stomach turned.

“I… I wrote her a letter.”