Dash sets the ice down and glances over at me, his lips pressed together. “You’re right. I have to get words on the page. My own stupidity is no excuse for not doing my job.”
“Your own stupidity?” Bella asks, reappearing way too quickly with a bottle in her hand. “What does that mean, Dash?” She’s scowling again, suspicion in her tone as she sets the Advil in front of him.
“It means, I thought I could actually make that early deadline you wanted. Now I went off and got the shit beat out of me like a little pussy, and I’m no longer in that same head space.”
Oh, he’s good. He just moved the conversation from her suspicion to what matters to her—him and his work-in-progress. And as he knew she would, she peps up. “You think you might make an earlier deadline?”
“If you stop drilling me and let me go sleep a couple of hours and get to work. Maybe.”
Correction, he’s not just good, he’s sensational. He didn’t just redirect her attention from his black eye, he gave her a reason to leave and stop drilling him.
“Don’t get my hopes up for nothing, Dash.”
“I’m not getting your hopes up at all,” he says, downing the Advil with a gulp of coffee. “I’m saying I’m trying. That’s more than I said before.” He motions to me. “And you can thank Allie for that. She made me read the book from the beginning. I decided it doesn’t suck as badly as I thought.”
“It doesn’t suck at all,” I chime in. “It’s brilliant.”
“Really?” she asks. “I mean, of course, it is. It’s Dash we’re talking about here.” She glances at him. “And you and your brilliance have a charity event signing in two weeks. Are you going to be ready?”
“If you go home and let me sleep this off.”
“Sleeping doesn’t heal black eyes.”
“Sleep heals,” he argues. “So does silence.” He grinds his teeth, but not because of Bella. “My damn head feels like a drank a bottle of tequila and didn’t have the fun that goes along with it,” he grumbles.
“Eat,” she orders. “You know you get headaches when you don’t eat.”
“That’s you not me,” he reminds her.
“Right. Well, you still need to eat. And I need coffee.” She turns around and grabs a cup from the cabinet and fills one for herself. I love how at home she is in Dash’s place. I love what that says about their relationship and about Dash as a man.
I glance at Dash, but his discomfort is palpable, and rather than look at me, he reaches for his bagel. He’s a mess because a) I’ve pierced the veil of his second life, and b) he really doesn’t like to lie to Bella, and avoiding those lies right now feels a bit like we’re flies dodging a fly swatter. He would do anything for Bella. And his torment over keeping things from her, speaks of a flawed man who can still love everyone but himself, and I swear in this realization I find I fall harder for him than ever.
I don’t know what is behind Dash’s pain, not fully, maybe not at all, and I wonder if Bella knows, either. The only thing I do know is that Dash can’t go on like this. He has a battle to fight for himself and I’m determined to make him see that he’s worth that fight.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bella busies about the kitchen while Dash is hyper-focused on his plate, his gaze downturned and not by accident.
The eyes are the window to the soul.
And while that might be true, I believe most of us are shuttered, protecting ourselves from vulnerability. I don’t believe I ever looked into Brandon’s eyes and saw his soul, or I would have seen the poison thriving inside him. Dash wears a façade of this easy-going guy who gets along with most everyone, Tyler excluded, of course, when the truth is, deep inside he’s all pain and torment. No one sees the truth of who he is because he doesn’t want them to see those things.
And yet, I did.
And I do.
And I know that right now, he’s just trying to get through this encounter with his sister without it exploding in his face while expecting a similar situation with me later today. I don’t want him to dread the conversation with me. The minute I have the chance, I’ll make sure he knows that while I want to know him and understand why he fights, I won’t demand answers.
Bella rejoins us at the island with her coffee in hand. Eager to please her, and thus keep her mind off Dash’s injuries, I quickly bite into what proves to be a delicious chocolate chip bagel with cream cheese. “These are wonderful, and a bit sinful, I do believe,” I say, offering my eager approval, as she claims the seat next to me.