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When I first met him, he was left, and left was right. I’d lost everyone in my life. My mom—God, I miss her, she was all I had left. My father the year I graduated college. My sister when I was still in college. She and I had been like the two musketeers. If you count her cat Molly, then well, the three musketeers. I loved that cat too and even she is gone. But back to him, because let’s just face it, he still consumes me. It’s as if I was a lonely star in a pitch-dark night sky, so very alone, and this light appeared beside me. He appeared in my life.

At first, I thought it was the sex.

The sex was intense. The way he touched me, the way he demanded more, and more, and more, and somehow, I set aside every fear and inhibition and gave him everything and more. I felt safe with him, safe in finding a new side of me, a new part of me. How many people can any of us say in life did that for us?

I glance over at Dash and suck in a breath, emotions tightening in my chest. He makes me feel all those things, all the same things Allison felt for whoever this man was she was dating. Tyler, I think, of course. Dash told me she was seeing Tyler.

I glance back at the page and continue reading:

I loved him. I believe he loved me, too. I still love him and yet, we are no more. I saw a part of him that was real, flawed, human, and he didn’t just push me away, he pushed me far away and shoved the door shut. And now that sky is darker than ever and I’m nothing but a fallen star. I have to let him go. I have to just let go. But it hurts. And I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried to date. I’ve prayed for someone who will carry me away, even just drown me in sex, please God, let me feel something other than pain.

Fear jabs at me, fear she might have hurt herself, and I quickly turn the page.

The next page reads:

I’m alive again. I met someone new. He’s not him, but there are similarities. He’s an older, more mature version of the one I loved. Maybe that doesn’t mean love again, but I’m lost in the moment. It feels wrong for reasons I can’t make myself write down. In fact, I’m not sure I’ll write about this at all. Maybe that means it absolutely is wrong. Or maybe it means it's right enough that I can just live in the moment and not write it all down. We’ll see…

I shut the journal and slide it into my bag. She was starting over. The way I’m starting over. For me, it feels right. But that’s not what Allison said. She said something about her new relationship felt wrong. And now she’s gone. I’m going to find her. And I’m going to continue finding myself.

In Nashville…

PART TWO:

NASHVILLE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

There are moments in life that feel eternal. Some are painful. Some are blissful. Some are just plain surreal. The moment I walk back into the Nashville apartment and it feels like home, is one of those surreal moments. Waking up Monday morning next to Dash in our bed is another surreal moment. Sitting at our kitchen island, him shirtless because I’m in his shirt, drinking coffee, and reading Dash’s headline story on any number of news sites, is more a time of relief.

Brandon cannot use Dash’s fighting against him. Dash took his power from him, or anyone else. Dash’s cellphone rings for about the tenth time, and as he has every time before, he eyes the caller ID, and declines the call. “More reporters,” he says. “More film people.”

“Should you talk to the film people?”

His eyes twinkle with mischief. “I’ll play hard to get with everyone but you, baby.”

“You play that game well, including with me, back in New York, at that fight club.”

“I followed you the minute you walked out of my room,” he argues.

“And let me go.”

“Only long enough to pull out of the fight I should never have been in to start with. You whipped my ass and I deserved it.” He motions to the story on my computer screen and says, “And now I can’t go back. It’s no longer a secret.” He angles his chair toward me and twists me around to face him, his hands on my upper thighs. “One of the reasons I did that story was to make sure you knew I’m done with that. I’m with you. At our home. I will never pull that bullshit again.”

“It was bullshit, Dash Black.”

His lips curve. “So long as you tell it how it is, baby.”


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