Despite Dominic spending every evening with Adrian since he’d attended Twisted Wishes’ rehearsal, Adrian hadn’t been late for work once. He’d even made his workout sessions with Jackson.
Hell, at this point, he really ought to give Dominic a key to his place. Watching him head back to his own place in the morning, bleary-eyed, was rough. Almost as rough as watching Dominic, sleep-and sex-mussed, lounge in bed while he picked out his suit and tie.
“This is becoming a habit,” he’d murmured this morning.
Dominic’s smile had been part yawn. “I like this habit.”
So did Adrian.
He’d also gotten an email from Ray the day after the rehearsal, introducing Adrian to their band manager, and asking questions about the website and social media. During down times, while tests ran on his code, he started compiling a list of issues on his phone, then turned them into a return email. Hadn’t heard anything after that, though.
As for work—well, he’d gone back over his email during the business trip he’d taken, from the correspondence with the customers to those with Russ and Russ’s boss, and couldn’t help but think that maybe Jackson and Dominic had been onto something. His being chosen for the customer job and having executed it well may have been seen as some kind of threat by William. An indication that Adrian might be promoted.
Part of him seethed with anger. He’d worked hard and, yes, deserved to be rewarded. But a larger part didn’t care anymore. He was burning out. Too much corporate culture. Too many suits. None of it had any soul.
And there was the drop of envy for Dominic’s life. Passion and love. Talent. The ability to make a difference. Turned out Twisted Wishes wasn’t at all silent about equal rights, especially for queer people. Even Domino, who was usually flippant in many of his interviews, fell into serious Dominic mode when that was brought up.
It was heartening, but also came with that pang of regret. There were principles that had fallen by the wayside because of convenience and a paycheck. Maybe it was time to consider other avenues.
Once this damn project was done. Adrian fell into the rhythm of coding, so much so that he didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings or whether anyone was at his cube entrance.
He flinched when Jackson rapped on the metal frame of his cube, but the quip he had in his throat died as soon as he saw the worry in Jackson’s eyes and pinching at his mouth. He hadn’t been that upset during their workout in the morning. “Hey, what’s up?”
“You got a moment?”
The tightly whispered words made Adrian’s stomach lurch. This wasn’t about business. Shit. Had Jackson’s job interview and potential offer fallen through? Dude had been so excited at the possibility of working on something he loved. “Of course.”
Jackson stood back and nodded down the hall. Okay, so this was a conference room chat, which meant it was serious and that Jackson didn’t want the rest of the office overhearing. Adrian rose and followed him to one of the smaller rooms.
Once the door was shut, Jackson fiddled with his phone and held it out. “I thought you should see this.”
Adrian took the phone and stared at the screen. It was a photo of Dominic—as Dominic, not Domino. He was obviously unaware of the photographer because he was laughing while talking on his phone. Upon closer inspection, Adrian realized it had been taken near one of their haunts—he recognized the coffee shop behind Dominic.
Cold leeched into Adrian, and he scrolled the image so he could see the gossip site—and the headline screamed out at him.
DOMINO GRINDER’S TRUE IDENTITY REVEALED.
Oh shit. Fuck. He blew out a breath...then his stomach dropped even further. Because Jackson knew. Somehow he knew Adrian was dating Dominic—or rather Domino. He’d never said Dominic’s last name.
“How...”
Jackson twisted his face. “Apparently people noticed a twink with Domino’s tattoos the other day. Creepy photographer got up a couple of floors in a nearby building with a telephoto lens and saw him playing with the rest of the band. They followed him home.”
Shit. The other day. Dominic had rolled up his sleeves while playing. Adrian hadn’t even thought to mention that he ought to roll them back down. Fucking heat of the summer, after all. The rest made sense, too, but that hadn’t been the question he’d been asking. “No, how did you know I was involved...” He couldn’t even finish his sentence.
Jackson laughed. “Oh.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I saw you and your man at the Met a couple of weeks ago, and you looked so into each other. I didn’t say hello, ’cause I was out with mine, too, and well...” He gave a little shrug. “But I remembered him, ’cause he was just your type. All scholarly and cut and handsome.”
Dominic was beautiful. “He is all that. Normally keeps his tats under his shirt.”
Jackson met his gaze. “You had no idea who he was, did you? That’s why you asked me about Twisted Wishes.”
“No clue at first. I just sat down next to him at a local haunt, because he was reading some old gay lit about rentboys and seemed like he might enjoy some company.” Seemed like ages ago. “Then I saw him on the cover of a magazine. Well, those tattoos of his.”
Jackson laughed hard. “Yeah, I guess you’d know those. Jesus, Adi.”
Adrian couldn’t help the chuckle, but sobered quickly. “He’s managed to keep his legal name out of things before now.” A little more scrolling told Adrian the press had uncovered Dominic’s full name...and with that, people could find out all the details associated with it, including his address. All you needed was to search through public records.
This wasn’t good at all. Oh damn. He handed the phone back. “Don’t say anything to anyone.”
“I won’t.” Jackson stuffed the phone in his pocket. “But...if they’ve figured out who he is and where he lives...”
They’d eventually find Adrian, too. Especially since they’d been out in the neighborhood together a lot. All it took was one person to fly off at the mouth.
“This is gonna be a fucking nightmare.” He clapped Jackson on the shoulder. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
“No problem.”
They both left the conference room, and every step back to his cube was laden with shocks of dread and worry. Dominic needed to know, if he already didn’t. And if he did...god. Adrian just hoped he was all right and with his band, who knew him and loved him.
There was no way Adrian could rush up to Chelsea and show up at their studio, not without causing more issues. By the time he entered his cube, his chest was tight and his arms tingled in precisely the wrong way. Sitting down in this state wasn’t an option, so he grabbed his phone and headed toward the door. He needed air and space and somewhere quiet to call Dominic.
He got two of the three when he exited the office building into the busy streets of Wall Street. Right, so calling was out. He fired off a text message.
Hey. I saw something on a website. They found you.
The reply came about a minute later. We saw. I’m okay. I’m with the band and they’re keeping me calm.
Thank god for that. What do you need from me?
The pause was a long one. Adrian looked up and started walking toward Battery Park. Part of him still wanted to catch a train up to their studio. No one knew who he was. With his suit, they might even take him for a lawyer or...something. Someone other than the strange role he’d found himself in: Domino Grinder’s secret boyfriend.
Lie low for me. I don’t want you tangled up in this shit. OMG, Adrian. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.
He didn’t like the sound of that. Because it almost sounded like...regret.
We’ll think of something, babe. Hang in there. When things blow over, we’ll talk.
He didn’t get another reply, so he strode down to the water. Halfway there, he was sweating too much and vaguely sick to his stomach. He tore off his suit jacket and swallowed the worry. Dominic was with his friends—his family.
Adrian should be there, too. Except—except he wasn’t. He was in Battery Park walking with enough force that tourists parted to make way. When he reached the water, there still wasn’t a reply from Dominic. He loosened his tie, sat down on a bench, and started rolling up his sleeves.
How much would it cost to walk up there? How angry would Dominic be?
His phone buzzed.
It’s not gonna blow over. Ever.
A second later another text.
I’m sorry, Adrian.
Adrian stared at the screen, and the heat of the day vanished. His fingers flew across the screen. We’ll work something out. Together.
There wasn’t a reply. Not even after Adrian wrenched himself up and stormed up the promenade, then back down to near the subway entrance.
He tried again. Babe, talk to me.
He took the walk back to the office slower than he’d come, mostly because his heart was beating too fast to power through the other pedestrians.
Not a word from Dominic. He cursed under his breath, and tried calling.
Come on. Pick up. But no, it clicked right over to an automated voice intoning Dominic’s number. After the beep sounded, Adrian spoke. “Babe, don’t do this to me. Not like this. Not now. Not after everything.” He struggled to find other words, and failed. “Please call me back.” There wasn’t anything else he could do but hang up.
On the way back to his cube, he ducked into the bathroom to straighten out his suit and tie. Go back to looking corporate and cool and calm, even as his insides twisted and pinched and threatened to strangle every part of him.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of code and meetings. If he was quieter than normal, no one remarked on it, thank god. William was probably pleased. Jackson, though, gave him one or two worried looks. Adrian rode the train back to Brooklyn, clutching his phone in his hand, just in case it vibrated, but there was nothing—nothing.
At home, he stripped off his suit and replaced it with a T-shirt and shorts. Normal summer clothes for a day that was anything but normal.
Dominic was leaving him. Dumping him.
Fuck that. He was out the door and heading toward Dominic’s place before he could even think. Didn’t take him too long, given his pace, but he came to a halt a block away.
Because the sidewalk in front of Dominic’s was crammed with a horde of people, and a whole bunch of them had cameras. Well, shit.
At least in his shorts and tee, he looked like any other gawking neighbor and not...not Dominic Bradley’s boyfriend come to ream him a new one for trying to dump him. Adrian pushed out air and rolled his shoulders. He needed to calm down. Being an ass wasn’t going to fix the situation. Last time, it had only caused Dominic pain.
Right. Maybe a beer might be a plan.
He swung back down the street and headed for Poet and Whiskey. Rather than take a table, he seated himself at the bar. Wasn’t too crowded—Monday evening and all—but there were still a bunch of folks Adrian recognized as locals. The bartender, the self-same Greg who had served him and Dominic a few times, was behind the bar.
He lifted his eyebrows when he spotted Adrian and slid a coaster out. “What can I get you?” His gaze darted behind Adrian—probably checking out the crowd—then back to Adrian. “Beer, cocktail, wine?”
He’d ordered all of those at one point or another. Part of him wanted to slug back whiskey, but the more prudent part reminded him he had to work tomorrow, so he ordered one of the local microbrews they had on tap.
When Greg placed the glass on Adrian’s coaster, he leaned in. “All alone tonight?”
There was something about the question that gave Adrian pause, because it wasn’t quite flirting, but damned if he could put a finger on it. He shrugged his shoulders and kept an eye on Greg. “My boyfriend’s busy. I’m just here for a beer.” If Greg was feeling him out somehow, that should put an end to it.
Thankfully, Greg just nodded and moved off to serve someone else.
Granted, he might not be dating Dominic much longer. That thought felt like an ice pick to his spine. Adrian gritted his jaw, peered at his beer, then forced himself to take one sip, then another.
The cool liquid slid down his throat and loosened the knot there. Dominic was spooked, and rightly so. But Adrian wasn’t about to give up on him without a fight.
He took his phone out and typed in a text message.
Tried stopping by your place. It’s crawling with reporters. Or press. Or whatever they are.
Finally, finally, a response came. They’re sharks. I’m not home. I’m in a hotel.
A second text came on the heels of that one. Ray says I’m being a fool and I should talk to you.
Adrian huffed a laugh and took another draw on his beer. Give Ray my thanks.
I don’t know if I should. This is a nightmare, Adrian.
He chewed on his lip, then drank. He could almost hear the panic in Dominic’s voice. See the haunted expression in those wide brown eyes. I should call you, but I’m in a bar, so I can’t. When I get home, I’ll call. But Dominic, I’m serious. I want to make this work. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you say...
He looked up at the TV while he waited for the reply to come. His beer was half gone, and the alcohol had done the trick of relaxing him a bit. The news was on, but it was all about the government or sports or some latest crime or another in the city.
Yeah, Dominic was famous, sure. But it wasn’t like the world revolved around Twisted Wishes.
Greg the bartender came into view. “You need another?” He was still eyeing Adrian with curiosity.
This wasn’t flirting, because it made his skin want to creep away. “Nah. One’s enough. Just the check.”
Greg nodded and moved away. The sooner Adrian got out of here, the sooner he could actually talk to Dominic.
A text had come back. I know you think I’m exaggerating, but I’ve seen what the others have gone through. Adrian, I love you. I love you too much to put you through that.
He didn’t even think as his fingers typed the reply. Don’t you think I should be the one to choose what I go through?
He finished his beer and stared at the screen. Dominic’s reply was both heartening and gut-wrenching. Fuck. I can’t do this over text. Call me when you can.
Just as soon as he paid for his beer and got out of the bar. It was too hot and too loud, even though it was hardly packed. He had to give Dominic some due, though. He was right—this whole thing was a nightmare, but not in the way Dominic meant.
Give me a few. I’ll call.
Greg came back with the slip and slid it to Adrian. “Hey, can I ask you a question?” He didn’t lift his fingers from the paper.
Adrian met the man’s stare. “What?”
“What’s it like?” Greg smiled a bit and his eyes widened.
“What’s what like?” He couldn’t help the irritation slipping in. This dude was weird.
“Being Domino Grinder’s lover.”
Adrian’s breath caught and his mind stuttered for a moment. Oh god. Of course. Of course someone would remember. Would know. He and Dominic came here all the damn time. People would recognize the Domino-as-Dominic now.
Holy shit.
“I mean,” Greg said, and his voice took on a low tone. “You two are practically fucking by the time you leave here. Must be pretty hot.”
Heat—the painful, burning kind—flared in Adrian and he fought the instinct to curl his hands into fists. Those nights had been theirs. His and Dominic’s. Yes, they’d been pretty blatant, but he’d seen other couples that into each other. Fuck this guy. He pulled the slip out from under Greg’s hand and checked the total before he drew out his wallet and placed cash on the bartop. “That’s none of your damn business.”
He stood and turned to head out the door.
“I know your name,” Greg said. “Adrian Doran.”
Fire and ice tangled in Adrian, and he rotated in place. Slowly, he stalked back over to the bar. He should just leave—walk away. But the unfairness of the day was finally burning through his body.
He and Dominic had been perfect. Had been.
“What are you going to do with it?” He returned Greg’s stare, not flinching, not threatening. Steady breathing.
Greg lowered his voice. “Depends on what you’re willing to give me.”
Blackmail? Adrian barked out a laugh that had other people turning toward them.
The guy leaned in. “Those tabloids will pay a lot to know who you are.”
Adrian followed suit, and his forehead nearly brushed Greg’s. If he hadn’t wanted to strangle the dude so much, it might have looked like a move. “I’m sure they will,” Adrian said. He took back the dollar tip he left and straightened up. “Hope the money keeps your soul warm.”
Greg’s eyes widened, but that’s all Adrian saw before he pushed through the bar and out the door into the warm summer evening.
Fuck. Fucking hell. Yeah, they had his name. And with that, they’d have his address and his place of work and...well, everything. He’d never really hidden much of his life. Sure, the bondage parties he’d gone to were discreet—kinda had to be when doctors and lawyers took part. But hell, these people could probably uncover his whole family history, back to immigration if they wanted to.
Maybe Dominic hadn’t been so wrong after all. Only time would tell.
He did make it back to his place unscathed, though. And seemingly unnoticed, too. Good. He closed and locked the front door and drew all the blinds on every floor. Even the library. Finally, he sprawled out on the reading nook—near where he’d first tormented and teased Dominic—and eyed his cell phone.
He really did want to hear Dominic’s voice. And a part of him still believed this would all blow over and they could go back to normal. Except there’d never been a normal—Dominic had always been Domino Grinder and would always be. That, too, was a part Adrian loved.
Greg’s slimy question flitted through Adrian’s mind. Truth was, being Domino Grinder’s lover was a fucking joy because Dominic Bradley was an amazing, passionate, intelligent man, and so very compatible with Adrian’s every need. He didn’t want to imagine a future where he wasn’t by Dominic’s side.
Except neither of them really wanted their lives to be public spectacles. However, that hope seemed to be over now, so he’d manage whatever came. He indulged in a sigh, then called Dominic.
* * *
Dom fucking hated hotels now. Maybe that was from the awful episode when Ray had nearly died on their last tour. They’d ended up stuck in a hotel for days, and they’d all been worried to the ends of the Earth about Ray.
This one was fine. A reasonably priced chain—well, reasonable for Manhattan. They’d stayed in some very sketchy places in their early days. But the white sheets and tidy room grated on Dom.
He shouldn’t be here. He should either be home, bitching in his head about his own damn house, or with Adrian in the place that felt like home. But now the world had come crashing down around him.
God, when Marcella had walked in, her movements stiff and with a frown so worried that even Mish had gone still, they’d all wondered what was up. Then she’d shown them the photos.
Him. As him, not Domino. Walking around Brooklyn. The article went on to list his legal name, that he went to high school at the same time Ray and Zavier did, his college degree, and the neighborhood in which he now lived.
Including the price that his house had sold for, and a comment about how that settlement with Twisted Wishes’s old label must have been quite good.
Fuck.
Everyone knew who Domino Grinder was. Now everyone knew who Dominic Bradley was, too. He still shook and his stomach churned at the thought of his private life being torn open for all to see. How the hell was he going to walk onstage after that?
How many “I fucked Domino Grinder’s ass and he liked it!” articles would now come out? Certainly some of his past one-night stands would be glad for the money a tell-all would bring in.
Ray, Zavier, and Mish had all kept him calm and they’d left the studio together, braving the sea of cameras and phones. They’d gotten into a private car Marcella had called for them, which had taken Dom to this hotel. Ray’d absconded with Dom’s house keys with a promise he’d grab clothes and toiletries.
“They’ll find me here,” Dom had said.
“It’ll take ’em a bit. You’re under the name Jason Forester.”
Not Domino. Not Dominic. He didn’t want a third person to be. Two was one too many.
Shit. Dom rose from the bed and broke open the five-dollar bottle of water. His gut was a mess. His hands shook. All he wanted was to crawl under the covers and hope that this madness went away.
They had a concert in a couple of weeks. He didn’t even know if he could get up on that stage.
Worse, he had no idea what to say to Adrian.
It wouldn’t be long before the press found Adrian and hounded him. Cameras and phones and recorders would be shoved into Adrian’s face while he tried to get to work.
Fuck. Adrian wouldn’t want to live like that. Bet his bank job wouldn’t even tolerate paparazzi floating around. Or Adrian being big news. Wasn’t that some kind of security issue, or at least a PR nightmare?
Hell, he didn’t want Adrian to be dragged into that awful place. The best thing would be for a clean break. Adrian would be a blip on the radar, soon eclipsed by some tell-all piece from a former lover.
Tears slid down Dom’s cheeks. Fuck. He wiped them away. He was not crying. He was not.
Of course, that’s exactly when Adrian finally called.
Dom attempted to school his voice, then answered. “Hey.” No such luck—he sounded like a wreck.
“Hi, babe.” Adrian’s voice was strained, too. And soft. Sounded so far away. Dom sank to the bed again and closed his eyes. Adrian continued, “I’m not going to ask you how you’re doing. Pretty good idea of that.”
Dom could only grunt out a strangled half-laugh.
There was silence on the other end of the line. “I went to the Poet and Whiskey tonight after I swung by your place. Got a beer.”
“Sounds nice and normal.” Bitterness crept into his voice. He’d love to go sit in a bar for a few hours and lose himself with a beer and the murmur of other people, rather than the weird smell and quiet hum of this room.
This time, it was Adrian who croaked a laugh. “Except for the part where the bartender asked what it was like to be Domino Grinder’s lover.”
Oh shit. Everything in Dom’s stomach churned. “I—Be right back.” He dropped the phone on the bed and stumbled into the bathroom just in time to disgorge everything from his gut into the toilet.
He couldn’t do this to Adrian. Didn’t know how he was going to do this to himself. Damn, the panic hadn’t been this bad in ages. Though he did feel a lot better now.
He flushed the toilet, gave his teeth a quick rinse and brush, and headed back into the room. Phone said the call was still connected.
“Adrian?”
“I’m here.” His voice was paper-thin. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Knew you’d say that.”
“I don’t want to fuck up your life. This is gonna fuck it up so hard, Adrian. You have no idea.”
A hollow laugh. “I’m learning.” A pause. “Still don’t want us to end.”
“I don’t want us to end, either.” The words ripped up his throat more than chucking up his lunch. “But I can’t protect you.”
There was a sharp breath on the other end, then Adrian’s clear voice. “You don’t have to.”
“But—”
“Dominic Bradley.” His full name, said by Adrian in the voice that always stilled him, calmed him. “You don’t need to protect me.”
Maybe...maybe he didn’t. A tiny weight lifted from his shoulders. “I don’t know what to do about Domino.”
Another pause, and Dom could almost see Adrian’s confusion and the head tilt. “What do you mean?”
“Now that everyone knows who Domino really is, how am I gonna go onstage and play? I mean, I’m—” Even though he was alone in the room, he waved his hand around. “Kinda a nerd.”
“You’re also kind of a hard-ass rock star who plays wicked guitar and looks like a punk sex god onstage.”
Oh. “That clashes rather hard with my non-Domino life.”
“So?” A huff of laughter. “Before today, before all this came out, when was the last time you worried about stepping out onstage?”
God, it had been years and years. “Um. Probably sometime before Mish joined the band.”
“What was it like on your last tour?”
Dom closed his eyes. The pulse of the crowd, the energy that vibrated through every venue. The thudding of his heart and the absolute certainty he had each night that they’d blow their fans away. “We were on fire. Felt like I could take over the world.”
“I bet that was as much Dominic Bradley as it was Domino Grinder.” Adrian’s voice was as beautiful as it was soothing. “I know you. You’re made of steel, babe.”
The tears were back. Dom opened his eyes. “You’re still not my fucking therapist.”
“No. I’m still just a man who loves you with all his heart.”
He took a shuddering breath. “You have no idea how much I love you.”
“Well, I want to learn. I want you to tell me. But for that to happen, we need to have more time together.” The slyness slipped into Adrian’s voice.
Dom really hated this hotel room now. Wanted to be with Adrian in his house and in his arms. Or kneeling at his feet. “Okay. Fuck you, but okay.”
A chuckle from Adrian. “I could come to you, you know. Wherever you are.”
So tempting. So utterly tempting. But also dangerous. “If they know who you are...”
“They’ll follow me to you.” There was the bitter edge Adrian’s voice had lacked before. “Makes sense.”
“It’s gonna be like that, Adrian. Forever.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” A long pause. “But you’re worth it.”
Was he, though? There were other men—other people—Adrian could love. Lovers without complicated lives. But he kept those words behind his mouth.
Didn’t seem to matter, because a frustrated sharpness bled into Adrian’s words, as if he could see Dom, or hear those thoughts. “Listen to me. You are worth it. I’ll take what the world throws at us.”
A breath, and a voice that was layered with worry, fear, and love. “Please don’t shut me out.”
Dom blinked away yet more fucking wetness in his eyes. “Okay.” That came out as a whisper. This was hell. No matter which way he turned, he was going to hurt Adrian. “Then at least let me tell you what to look for?”
“You mean with photographers and shit?”
“Yeah. And like...prep for what people might ask you.”
Again, it was almost as if they were in the same room. He felt Adrian’s sigh. Imagined him combing fingers through that auburn hair of his. “All right. Tell me.”
So he did. He listed all of the invasive questions he’d ever heard the gossip press throw at the band, all the shit he’d seen Ray and Zavier go through. All the questions he, as Domino, had refused to answer. Hell, the press had already pestered his mom and dad. “And they’ll probably dig into your family, and ask them shit, too.”
That got him a dark chuckle. “Is it bad if that pleases me on some level? Especially if they start asking Father Patrick about his queer little brother shacking up with a loud, tattooed rock star?”
Okay, that was kinda amusing in a weird way. “Your silver linings are interesting.”
“I’m not always the nicest person,” Adrian replied wryly.
Everyone had their moments of spite. This one, Dom understood. But there was another part of that whole exchange he wanted to know more about.
“Are we shacking up?” Despite everything, despite knowing the best thing to do was to let Adrian go, this thought warmed Dom straight to his bones. To have Adrian, to be home with him permanently was a fucking dream.
“If you’d like to. We’d have a lot of details to work out, but I’m serious, Dominic. I’ve been since the beginning. Not a fling. And I’ll take what comes.”
Agony ripped through Dom’s heart. Everything he wanted. All that he could not ask Adrian to give. “I—need to think about that.”
“I figured you might.” There was that soothing tone again. “Trust what I say, though.”
“I will.” He believed Adrian, believed that Adrian believed what he said was true. Knew that it wasn’t. “I should let you go. You have work tomorrow.”
“Okay. But I want you to do something for me.”
Dom pushed out a breath, his pulse kicking up. Wasn’t lust—he was too damn tired and strung out—but that sense that whatever it was that Adrian offered, he would need. “What?”
“Kneel for me.”
He obeyed before he even thought about it, sliding onto the hotel room floor. “Yes.”
“Stay there until you find your center, Dominic.”
A fresh wave of tears threatened. “I might be here a long time.”
“I don’t think so. You’re strong. And I love you.”
Dom leaned against the bed and bit back the words he wanted to say, the ones that would refute all three statements. But his heart and soul had already settled into the work Adrian had laid before him. “All right.”
“Night, babe.”
“Good night.”
When the line went silent, Dom set the phone down on the floor, buried his head in his hands, and finally let the stress and fear and anxiety wring the tears out of him. It didn’t hurt, though, and that surprised him. Felt cleansing. He took a breath, then another.
Maybe, maybe he was strong at his core. Domino was. And, as everyone kept pointing out, he was Domino Grinder.
So what would Domino do?
He raised his head and sat for a while, letting thoughts tumble through his head until one settled in and stayed. Domino wouldn’t let go of the man of his dreams, so maybe Dom shouldn’t, either.
It was so fucking hard, though. He trusted what Adrian said, but he knew he’d change Adrian’s life for the worst.
Which was better? Fighting or letting go? He still didn’t know.
Slowly, he rose to his feet and shook out his legs—then called room service for a burger and a beer. Tomorrow he’d sit down with the band and their manager and figure out what came next.