Two Holidays, One Sin

Callie's POV 

I jerked upright, lungs heaving, my heart was racing heavy and suffocating. My heart slammed so hard against my ribs it felt like it might crack something open. 

For a moment, I didn't know where I was, only that my body felt overheated, restless, like it had been running from something it hadn't escaped.

I pressed my palm to my chest, breathing through it.

Not again. The dream slipped away the moment I tried to hold it, leaving behind only sensations of heat, closeness, the echo of a voice saying my name like it was something precious.

I squeezed my eyes shut, groaning softly. I hadn't slept until almost dawn. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind dragged me back to the kitchen. The darkness. The broken glass. His hand brushing mine like it wasn't an accident.

"Dominic," I muttered under my breath.

I stared at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the house waking up around me. Doors were opening downstairs. Footsteps echoing around the house. Of course, he was awake.

I lay there longer than necessary, debating whether hunger outweighed the dread that had settled deep in my stomach. 

Just then, my stomach answered for me with an irritated growl.

"Traitor," I muttered, throwing the blanket off.

I showered quickly, avoiding my reflection longer than usual. When I finally caught sight of myself, I barely recognised the girl staring back. 

Tired eyes with slight shadows beneath them. A woman who looked like she'd slept badly and thought too much.

I pulled on jeans and a leather sweater, it was snowing heavily outside. I inhaled slowly, trying to steady my breath, and went downstairs.

The smell of coffee hit me first. Then laughter, with Jenna's loud and unfiltered voice.

"...and then he dared to ask if I was 'emotionally available,'" she was saying. "Sir, you forgot my birthday twice."

I stepped into the kitchen just as Dominic slid a plate onto the counter. My steps faltered. He'd made pancakes. 

He stood at the gas cooker, his sleeves rolled up, and his hair was slightly messy, like he'd run a hand through it too many times. He looked... normal and domestic. 

But my heart flipped, disagreeing. 

"Morning," Jenna chirped when she saw me. "You look like you fought sleep and lost."

"Accurate," I replied, my voice dry. 

Then he turned, his eyes met mine for a fraction of a second too long. And I felt the previously unknown connection pass through both of us. 

His jaw tightened almost unnoticeably before he looked away.

"Good morning, Callie," he greeted, his tone soft and careful.

"Morning," I replied, hoping my voice didn't betray me.

Jenna slid into the seat beside me. "Dad decided to play the domestic hero today. I didn't even know he knew where the flour was."

"I've lived here for years," he said, deadpan.

"Emotionally, though?" she teased.

I snorted before I could stop myself. And both of them looked at me. Heat rushed to my cheeks. 

"Sorry. That just... came out."

Dominic's mouth twitched. Just barely. It was worse than a smile.

Breakfast was surprisingly normal. Jenna talked. A lot about work. About her boyfriend. About how Callie from high school would never believe she voluntarily woke up before ten.

"I blame adulthood," she said, stabbing her pancake. "It's a scam."

Dominic poured coffee into my mug without asking.

Of course, I noticed.

"Thanks," I said softly.

"You're welcome."

Our fingers didn't touch. I was aware of the space between us, as if it were charged.

At some point, Jenna's phone buzzed. 

"Ugh, I have to take this. If it's my boss, I'm quitting."

She hopped up, groaning, and disappeared down the hallway, still muttering.

Silence dropped into the kitchen like a held breath.

But I focused on my plate.

"So," I said, because silence felt heavier. "The power last night..."

"Yes," Dominic replied quickly. "I fixed it. Old wiring. It should be fine now."

"Good," I nodded. "Sorry about the... glass."

"Don't apologise." He paused. "You weren't hurt?"

"No," I replied, shaking my head.

Then there was another pause. 

"Good."

I decided to risk a glance up. And he was watching me now, openly, like he'd decided pretending wasn't working. His expression wasn't soft, but it wasn't cold either. It was something restrained and controlled.

"About last night," he said quietly. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

The word landed heavier than it should have. Uncomfortable?

"No," I said too fast. Taking a deep breath, I slowed. "I mean, no. It was just... unexpected."

His eyes searched my face like he was trying to study the lines on my face.

"You're okay, right?" He asked. 

The question almost undid me. "I'm fine," I lied.

He nodded once, like he accepted the answer even if he didn't believe it.

Jenna returned moments later, mercifully loud. "False alarm. Crisis postponed."

The rest of the morning passed in fragments. I helped Jenna clear the table. Dominic retreated to his home office. 

Around noon, a soft curse echoed from the hallway.

Jenna poked her head out of the living room. 

"Dad?"

"The hallway light's acting up again," Dominic said. "It's flickering."

"Old house problem," Jenna added, rolling her eyes. She turned to me. "Callie, you good if I disappear for a bit? I'm meeting Sam."

"Yeah, I'll be," I said quickly. "You can go."

She grinned. "Don't miss you too much."

When the door closed behind her, the house felt quieter than before. Dominic stood at the base of the stairs, toolbox in hand. 

"I should fix it before it gets dark."

"I can help," I blurted out, before thinking.

He looked surprised. Then his expression turned thoughtful. "All right," he said. "Hold the light?"

We stood in the narrow hallway, closer than necessary. I held my phone up while he adjusted the switch plate, his arm brushing the wall beside my head.

I could smell him. He smelt of soap, coffee with an edge of woodsy scent.

My pulse skidded.

"Is this okay?" he asked, glancing back. He was talking about the light while I thought he was referring to our closeness. 

"Yeah." 

The light flickered once, then steadied.

"There," he said softly. "That should..." His elbow bumped mine as he stepped back.

My breath stopped. His hand lifted instinctively, hovering near my waist before he stopped himself like he'd hit an invisible wall.

Then he leaned closer. Not too close enough to touch. Just enough that I felt him everywhere.

His warm, undeniable presence filled the space between us.  

I could feel my heartbeat in my throat, my chest, my fingertips. 

Suddenly, the hallway felt too small and quiet, like the world had narrowed down to the inch separating us. My breath hitched.

I didn't know who moved first. Or if anyone did at all. I only knew that it felt inevitable. Like something that had been waiting patiently for years had finally decided to surface.

I tilted my chin up, my lips parted without permission. And then I closed my eyes. For one reckless, hopeful second, I let myself believe he was going to kiss me.

When I opened them, he was staring at me. He wasn't angry or shocked. He was just looking at me. I saw it in his eyes, everything I wasn't supposed to want.