His voice is low now, but tight.
“So I rewound the tape. Over and over. I started looking back—how you were acting after she moved here. And you know what I realized?” He pauses. “You haven’t fucked anyone since she showed up. Not one. And for you, that’s a record. So I asked myself why.”
“The thought of fucking anyone else makes me sick, Dominic.” I look him in the eye as I say it. What the fuck is his point? That I must actually like Melody if I don’t stick my dick into a puck bunny? That’s the logic he wants to use?
Dom barks a bitter laugh, shaking his head.
“Yeah? Well, the thought of anyone fucking my little sister is making me sick, so congrats—we’re both miserable.”
“What is your problem with this?” I square up, eyes locked on him. “What is the actual fucking issue? Forget the brother code shit. What’s your real problem with me being with her?”
Dom crosses his arms tighter and stares at me for a beat.
“You’re reckless. You’re impulsive. You’re childish. You act before you think, and your dick should be sold with the team merch.”
I flinch.
“Jesus fu—”
“Let me finish.” He cuts me off, voice sharp. “You’re chaos. And Melody’s not.” His voice falters. “She’s good. She’s better than both of us combined.”
I shift on my feet, waiting for him to keep roasting my shit. But then his tone shifts.
“But you’re also the most loyal son of a bitch I know.”
I furrow my brows at the unexpected compliment.
“You show up when you say you will,” he says. “You never let anyone down. You’ve always been unapologetically yourself, and watching you live like that helped me figure out whoIwas.”
I stare at him, frozen. He’s never said anything to me like that before. Sure, we’ve had our moments, but never like this.
“You’re the guy who answers the phone at three a.m. Who’s at my door in five minutes if I ever need you.” He shakes his head. “You’ve got this way of making people think life’s not so heavy. You helpedmethink that. I hardly remember life before you. And I don’t want to picture life without you.”
“That… wow.” I sit there, stunned.
Something presses behind my ribs and starts to burn. I have the uncontrollable urge to pull him into a hug, but I stay planted.
Instead, I open my mouth to speak, but Dom holds up a hand. He exhales like he’s debating if this is too much. But he goes there.
“Our parents… they’ve been planning Melody’s life since she was born. Planning who she should marry since she was fourteen.”
He starts pacing now, taking off pieces of his gear to keep his hands busy, and I just listen.
“There were always men being walked in and out of our house. Business dinners. Fundraisers. Meetings. And every fucking time, they’d trot her out. Smile, Melody. Shake his hand. Be polite.”
His voice sharpens like a blade.
“She was sixteen and they were already introducing her to men in their late twenties. Potential husbands. Investors. Sons of politicians. They treated her like a contract—something to be signed off and sealed. She’d sit at those dinners, smile like she wasn’t dying, and then go cry in her room while they talked about her like she was a deal they were about to close.”
My blood starts to boil.
Dom’s staring ahead now.
“It was hurting her, so I started stepping in. Standing next to her. Making sure no one looked at her too long. Scared the shit out of every single one of them.”
“Good,” I mutter through gritted teeth.
He looks at me again, voice dark.
