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Chapter Fifty: Lines Crossed
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2025-07-01 18:15:57
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Ruin Me, Blackwood Chapter One Hundred and Ten: Tangled Hearts
Amelia’s POVThe silence in Dominic’s apartment was the kind that settled into your bones and made itself at home. Not peaceful. Not comforting. But heavy—like the moments before a storm, when the sky is holding its breath.I sat on the edge of the massive bed in his bedroom, the same place where so much had happened between us—fights, confessions, desire, regret—and stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the city like a painting. Night had fallen, but the lights outside were still trying to outshine the darkness. I wasn’t sure if they were winning.My body was still sore from everything—our argument, his touch, my own guilt. My thoughts looped like a broken record, skipping between the things I should’ve said and the things I never should’ve felt in the first place.Dominic was in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of something strong. I could hear the clink of the bottle against the rim. It was the only sound in the apartment.I knew I should leave.But I couldn’t.No
Ruin Me, Blackwood Chapter One Hundredand Nine: Confessions at Sunrise
Dominic’s POV I told myself I wouldn't go. I tried to lie in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, counting the shadows as they stretched across my walls like ghosts I couldn’t shake. The city was quiet — deceptively calm — and my mind was anything but. Her laugh echoed in my ears. The feel of her hand in mine, the way her lips had parted when I kissed her… it was imprinted on me, in my bloodstream now. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She wasn’t supposed to mean this much. Amelia Carter was supposed to be off-limits — my best friend’s little sister, the girl who used to chase us around the backyard with popsicles and scraped knees. She wasn’t supposed to be the woman who now haunted every corner of my thoughts, who made me want to be the kind of man who didn’t ruin good things. But I did. That’s what I did. That’s what I always did. Yet, at some point in the night, after tossing the weight of my regret from one shoulder to the other, I found myself driving. Her apartment wa
Ruin Me, Blackwood Chapter One Hundred and Eight: Quiet Cracks
Amelia’s POV I hadn’t expected him to take me anywhere. Let alone there. The cliffs weren’t what I pictured when he said he had a place. I expected something like a penthouse he kept closed off, or a cabin in the woods passed down from some stoic grandfather. But no—Dominic brought me to the ocean. To open air. To a piece of himself I could tell no one else had ever been allowed to see. And I didn’t take it lightly. Not for a second. Because when he looked at that view, it wasn’t the kind of admiration you give to nature. It was grief. And memory. And scars. And when he told me he came there as a kid when things were too loud, I wanted to wrap that version of him in a blanket and sit next to him silently until he didn’t feel alone anymore. Even now, the image wouldn't leave my head: a younger Dominic, curled up on the rocks, probably angry at the world and unsure what it meant to be safe. I ached for him. And I hadn’t stopped aching since. After he dropped me home, I stood
Ruin Me, Blackwood Chapter One Hundred and Seven: Shatterpoint
Dominic’s POV The taste of her hadn’t left me. Not her lips. Not her voice. Not the way she’d looked at me when she said, “You just have to stay.” God, it haunted me. She didn’t know it, but she cracked something in me that night. Something I had boarded up, chained down, and buried so deep I’d almost convinced myself it didn’t exist anymore. Hope. It was fragile and terrifying. Because hope meant I had something to lose. And Amelia—she wasn’t just something. She was everything. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep on her couch, but her scent wrapped around me like a drug, pulling me under. Her blanket still smelled like her shampoo, and when I rolled over sometime around four a.m., I realized she’d draped another one over me while I was out cold. That tiny gesture undid me more than any kiss ever could. I stared at the ceiling until the early light broke across it, doing nothing but thinking. About her. About us. About the version of myself I was scared to show her—and the one I
Ruin Me, Blackwood Chapter One Hundred and Six: Stay
Amelia’s POV The knock on my door came just as I’d given up on hearing it. I was curled up on the couch, a mug of chamomile tea cooling in my hands, and a blanket thrown haphazardly over my legs. The television was on, but I wasn’t watching it. I couldn’t focus. My brain kept replaying Dominic’s voice in my head like a broken record. Every word. Every glance. The way he touched my face like I was something precious—and then walked away like I was nothing. I didn’t expect him to come back. So when I heard the knock, soft but deliberate, my heart leapt to my throat. I stood slowly, ignoring the nervous tremble in my hands. My bare feet padded quietly across the floor, and I paused at the door, like maybe it was a trick. Maybe I’d imagined it. Then came the second knock. My breath caught. I opened the door. And there he was. Dominic Blackwood. Standing in the hallway like a storm I never saw coming. His hair was damp, like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times. His jaw
Ruin Me, Blackwood Chapter One Hundred and Five: The Breaking Point
Dominic’s POV I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I’d driven home with her scent still clinging to my skin, her voice still echoing in my ears, and my hands clenched so tight on the steering wheel they ached. I didn’t turn on music. Didn’t roll down the window. Just drove in silence, the city blurring past me like I wasn’t really there. Because I wasn’t. I was still back at her doorstep. Still standing in front of Amelia with every nerve in my body screaming at me to stay. But I didn’t. I told myself it was for her. That leaving was the right thing to do. That if I crossed that threshold, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from ruining her. I’d take everything she was offering and give her nothing but pieces of me in return. Broken pieces. She deserved better than that. Better than me. And yet, hours later, I was lying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling like it held the answers I was too much of a coward to face. The moonlight carved through the slats of my blinds, stripin
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