Chapter Twenty-Nine: A New Beginning

Camille never thought she would see the day when Dominic Hayes was still in Haven Cove—let alone in her home, resting in her bed. The past few weeks had felt like a storm that refused to settle, leaving her exhausted, raw, and uncertain about what came next.

But now, as she sat on the edge of the bed, watching him sleep, something in her chest softened. His breathing was slow and even, the rise and fall of his chest steady beneath the thin hospital shirt he still wore. He looked different like this—vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

The sight reminded her of how close she had come to losing him.

Instinctively, she reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead. His skin was still pale, but the warmth beneath her fingertips reassured her. She let her hand linger for a moment before pulling away, only to freeze when his lips curved into a faint smile.

"You're staring," Dominic murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

Camille huffed, rolling her eyes as she leaned back. "Maybe I was just making sure you were actually breathing."

His smile widened slightly. "Well, I'm still here."

She wanted to believe him. She really did.

For so long, she had lived in fear of him leaving—first because of the past, and then because of his illness. But last night, as he confessed his love, as he held onto her like he was afraid she might slip away, Camille realized something.

He wasn't the same man who had left her all those years ago.

Dominic's fingers grazed her hand where it rested on the sheets. "I meant what I said last night," he murmured. "I'm not going anywhere, Camille."

She swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. "You say that now, but—"

"But nothing," he cut in, his voice low but firm. "I know I've given you every reason to doubt me, but I need you to believe me this time. I need you to trust me."

Trust.

Such a simple word, yet one that carried so much weight between them.

Camille wanted to say something—wanted to tell him that she was trying, that she was terrified, that she had spent ten years learning how to live without him. But before she could, a soft knock sounded at the door.

She turned, only to find Liam standing there, holding a small tray of breakfast in his hands. His brows were furrowed in concentration as he carefully balanced the food, his lips pressed together in determination.

"I made breakfast," Liam announced, puffing out his chest proudly.

Dominic blinked in surprise, then broke into a slow, disbelieving grin. "You did?"

Liam nodded eagerly, stepping closer. Camille took the tray before he could drop it, setting it carefully on Dominic's lap. The meal was simple—toast, eggs, and a cup of coffee—but the meaning behind it was enough to make Camille's throat tighten.

"I helped, but Liam did most of it," she admitted.

Liam beamed. "I made sure the toast wasn't burned!"

Dominic chuckled, ruffling his son's hair. "Well, then this is already the best breakfast I've ever had."

Camille watched as Dominic picked up a fork, taking the first bite. He hummed in approval, nodding seriously.

"You, young man, have a real talent," he said, looking at Liam.

Liam practically glowed at the praise, climbing onto the bed beside his father.

For a few minutes, Camille just sat back, watching them interact. It was still strange—this idea of Dominic being here, being part of Liam's life. But seeing them together like this, something inside her chest ached in the best way.

Liam talked about his favorite chess strategies while Dominic listened intently, nodding along and asking questions. Camille noticed how natural it felt—like they had known each other forever. And maybe, in some way, they had.

"You know," Dominic said after finishing the last bite, "I think we should have a rematch soon."

Liam's eyes widened with excitement. "You want to play again?"

"Absolutely. I can't just let you beat me that easily."

Liam giggled, nudging Dominic's arm. "You just don't want to admit that I'm better than you."

Dominic gasped dramatically. "Better than me? We'll see about that."

Camille shook her head fondly. "Just don't let him get too competitive, or he'll start keeping score on the fridge."

Liam grinned. "I already did!"

Dominic let out a deep, genuine laugh, and Camille felt something in the room shift.

This was what had been missing.

This was what Dominic had lost for ten years.

And now, he was finally here.

For the first time in a long time, Camille allowed herself to believe—just a little—that maybe they could have this. Maybe they could be a family.

As Dominic set the tray aside, his gaze met hers, something unreadable in his expression. He reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

"Camille," he murmured, his voice softer now.

Liam, oblivious to the tension between them, was still rambling about a chess match he had seen on TV. But Camille only had eyes for Dominic.

She didn't move away this time.

Instead, she squeezed his hand back, just slightly.

Maybe it wasn't a promise.

But it was a start.