The Heart Leads

Chapter 5

The car hummed down the highway, the engine growling every time the speed changed. The road stretched ahead, empty and endless, but every mile felt like it was weighing Brian down more. His stomach twisted with each passing minute, and no matter how much he cracked the window, the nausea wouldn't go away. He stared at the scenery, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the sick feeling building up inside him.

He glanced over at Dom, who was driving with his usual calm, but Brian could tell he was tense. Every so often, Dom would flick a glance his way, like he was checking to see if Brian was okay. Brian hated that he couldn’t just keep it together, but the motion sickness was getting worse by the second. He needed something to help, something to take the edge off.

"Do you mind if I roll the window all the way down?" Brian asked, his voice hoarse, like he was struggling to hold everything in. His hand gripped the seatbelt tightly, knuckles white.

Dom didn’t hesitate. "Sure, go ahead." His voice was as calm as always, the kind of calm Brian had learned to rely on. Dom never made him feel weak, even though that’s exactly how Brian felt right now. It was a weird comfort in the middle of everything.

Brian reached for the window, his fingers shaking. He pushed it down, and the rush of cool air hit his face, messing up his hair. He leaned against the door, closing his eyes for a second, just trying to focus on the wind against his skin. It helped, a little, but the sick feeling was still there, pressing in on him.

He tried to take deep breaths, but it didn’t help. It felt like there was no air, like everything was closing in on him—the pregnancy, the past, the uncertain future. He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt good, or normal, or anything like he used to. What even was "normal" anymore?

Dom glanced over at him again, and Brian saw the concern in his eyes. He hated being looked at like that—like he was fragile, like he was going to break any second. But the truth was, he kind of was. He could feel it in the way his body reacted to every little thing. Even sitting in the car was becoming too much.

Brian leaned forward, clutching his stomach as another wave of nausea hit. His throat tightened, and he had to fight to keep from doubling over in pain. It was like the world was spinning, everything going dizzy and out of focus. His hands gripped the seat, fingers digging into the fabric, trying to hold on.

He closed his eyes, but the wind rushing past wasn’t enough to help anymore. His chest tightened, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t keep it together. The pressure in his stomach was too much.

“Can you pull over?” Brian mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t even a request, it was a plea. He needed to get out of the car, away from the pressure, the sickness, the everything. His breath came faster, cold sweat starting to form on his forehead, his skin feeling clammy.

Dom’s hands tightened on the wheel, eyes darting to him, then back to the road. Without a second thought, he flicked on the indicator and started slowing down, steering the car onto the shoulder. The gravel crunched under the tires as the car came to a stop, and Brian could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

As soon as the car stopped, Brian threw open the door, his body acting on its own, barely registering what he was doing. He stumbled out of the car, bending over the side, hands gripping the hood for support. His stomach turned, and the world swam in front of his eyes. His pulse pounded in his head, and he tried to focus, but everything was spinning too fast.

But it was no use. His stomach rebelled, and he bent further over the car, his body giving in. He heaved, and everything around him turned into a blur of color and sound. His breath came in ragged gasps, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He just needed air. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get enough air.

He heard the car door open behind him, and Dom’s voice broke through the haze.

“Brian?” Dom’s voice was low, full of concern, but Brian couldn’t face him. Not now. He couldn’t deal with it.

“Just… just give me a minute,” Brian choked out, his voice thick with nausea. His hands were shaking, sweat soaking through his shirt. He didn’t want to be seen like this, weak and out of control. But he couldn’t help it.

Dom didn’t say anything, and Brian appreciated that. He didn’t need words right now. He just needed space to breathe, to try and get himself together.

Brian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the taste of bile still lingering. His body shuddered with aftershocks, but the worst had passed. It wasn’t better, but it wasn’t as bad.

When he felt sure he wasn’t going to be sick again, he straightened up, using the car to steady himself. His legs were unsteady, and his vision was blurry, but he stayed on his feet. He glanced at Dom, who was standing a few feet away, giving him space to recover.

“Feel better?” Dom asked softly, his voice unreadable, but there was something in it that made Brian feel like he wasn’t being judged. Like Dom was silently telling him that it was okay to be weak, that it was okay to struggle.

Brian nodded, even though it felt like his body was moving too slowly, like his brain wasn’t connected to his limbs. “Yeah. Just… needed a second.”

Dom stepped closer, his expression still a mix of concern and something else—something softer, like he was waiting for Brian to let his guard down.

“I’ll give you as much time as you need,” Dom said quietly.

Brian swallowed, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. “Thanks, Dom. I just... I can’t keep it together sometimes.”

“You don’t have to,” Dom said, his voice steady. “Not with us.”

Brian looked up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn’t alone. And for the first time in a long while, that thought was enough to make him breathe just a little easier.