Domesticated (VegasxPete)

Chapter 6

Defeated

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Pete POV.

It has been a month since Vegas came home. He has pretty much fully healed from the gunshot wound, and all of his other cuts and bruises have either disappeared or scarred over. We have been focusing most of our energy on our relationship, when we aren't having sex of course. We have been back and forth between his room and mine getting some well-deserved rest. 

Every morning is slowly starting to get easier, the panic attacks aren't as frequent, and I learned it helps when I am there when Vegas wakes up. 

I feel Vegas stir awake wrapping his arms tightly around my shoulders pulling me closer to his chest. I placed a kiss at his throat before looking up at him and shifting my body up so that my face reached his. 

"Are you ready for today? This will be the first time seeing everyone in a while." I say placing a kiss on his cheek. Vegas' eyes fill with fear, "I-I don't think I am ready, but you've worked so hard on today's plans. So, as long as you're by my side, I will do my best to keep myself composed." 

I kiss his cheek again, "I will be hooked to your hip, so close you may get irritated with me." I laugh looking at him, caressing his face with both of my hands. 

"Vegas, I know you think they hate you, but they really don't. They understand your past, and they have been inviting you since before you even left the hospital." 

*

The weather outside today is beautiful, the winter sun is warm on my skin as I walk out the front door. 

Kinn has been attempting to get Vegas and I over to the main house this whole month, calling me every other day to see how Vegas is doing. I put aside us all getting together as much as I could, allowing Vegas some time to adjust to a new lifestyle.

I also spent this time drilling into Vegas' head that the Major and Minor families don't want him dead. Kinn has officially taken charge of the Major family, and Porsche is the head of the Minor family. Their first goal was to welcome Vegas, but we are all a bit worried how that may go.

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Vegas POV.

I feel most nervous today. Meeting with Kinn and Porsche is just not something I feel particularly prepared for. Pete has been pushing this off, I'm sure he doesn't know that I am aware of it, but I have overheard is phone calls with Kinn quite often. 

Most days I would get a bit pissed off. Why does Kinn keep calling Pete? As I would intentionally try to listen to the phone calls, I heard Kinn ask how I was doing, and when Pete believed I would be up to it to meet with him and Porsche. 

Pete asked me yesterday if I would be okay meeting with them today, so that is what we are doing. I agreed only in hopes that Kinn would stop calling, but my walls are very high despite Pete's efforts to comfort me. 

Pete and I are currently driving to the Major family house, Pete behind the wheel due to a bit of a heated argument on the way out of the house. I may have gotten a bit worked up over the fear of this meeting being a trap, and in the process, demanding to cancel the meeting all together and claiming to have no trust for Pete whatsoever. 

The silence is not our usual comfortable atmosphere, the air is tense, and I feel like if I was to breathe too loud, I'd get kicked out of the moving vehicle. 

Regardless of my hate for the said silence in this instance, I keep quiet, knowing that what I had done was not something to be easily forgiven. 

Though, a part of me feels frustrated and annoyed, I know that's the internal Vegas, who has more issues than that of bones in a body. I appreciate Pete so much, but I know I struggle with showing that. 

I glance over to Pete, staring at him while he is strictly focusing on the road, I study the details of his hands gripped on the wheel, with his knuckles turning white. My sight gazes to his face, his teeth grinding noticeable by the purse of his lips, the abnormally quick blinking of his eyes tells me he is probably trying hard not to break down and cry. 

My heart aches and my stomach drops. I turn my head to look at my reflection in the car mirror feeling defeated, and for good reason, it is truly what I deserve in moments like this. I attempt to talk myself into reaching my hand over and making some form of physical contact, touch his shoulder, or his leg. I suppress the feeling as the sight of the mansion comes into view getting bigger and bigger as we get closer. 

I can feel myself begin to shake, my hands began to sweat, and I could feel my lungs start giving out. I close my eyes leaning my head back on the chair trying to regulate my breathing, but as the car stops moving it gets harder and harder to breathe. I hear the driver side door open and close quickly, knowing I'm sitting alone in this car I could feel tears coming on. 

My whole life I had been by myself, but this was one of the first moments where I felt most alone, vulnerable, and wishing deeply that when I took the gunshot to my chest it killed me on the spot. 

Holding my breath, I felt myself drifting...

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