“No,” I say, “but you’re grieving Dash. You both loved and hated him and that’s about as confusing and brutal as it gets. No one is the same in those circumstances.”
“I’m still me,” he says. “The same me that fucked up with you in the past, but I promised you it wouldn’t happen again. I’m damn sure not losing you over him.”
My heart swells with his emotionally packed vow. “You aren’t losing me.”
He strokes my hair. “Then undress, Allie.”
I nod and he releases my arms. I lean against the door and pull off the combat-style boots I’d changed into before the concert. Next, come my jeans and socks. Then my T-shirt and bra and underwear. When I’m naked, my eyes meet his and what I find is turbulence, pain, and anger, but there is also this unexpected wave of tenderness that is somehow just as intense as all those other emotions.
Dash moves then, scooping me up and carrying me toward the living room. I cling to him, not sure what to expect right now. He sets me on my feet in front of the couch and he sits. His hands are on my hips when he leans forward and kisses my belly. I expected a wild, dominant side of Dash, especially after he had me undress. My fingers slide into his hair and he looks up at me, pure torment in his eyes. For reasons I can’t explain, I know that this isn’t about wild, intense fucking. Dash feels naked, more naked than simply taking off his clothes would make him.
“He hated me because I was at the same party as my brother and I didn’t stop my brother from getting in the car.”
“He was an adult, Dash. Surely your father knew that.”
“My brother did this all the time. He got drunk. He forced me to babysit him. I’d tried to get him in rehab. Hell, Bella tried, too, and Alex wasn’t even her brother. We both told my father and my stubborn ass stepmother that he needed rehab. No one listened. That night I’d had enough. I was a college kid, Allie. There was this hot chick I wanted to bang and she was with me. I told Alex just to go ahead and get in the fucking car and drive. I was in an upstairs frat house bedroom fucking that chick whose name I can’t even remember when my brother hit that tree.” He drags me onto his lap, my legs straddling his hips, and his head buried against my neck, arms around my waist.
He holds me, his body quaking, my hand on the back of his head. “It wasn’t your responsibility to save him, Dash.”
He pulls back and looks at me, his eyes bloodshot. “Then who else was going to save him?” His voice rasps with emotion.
“Him,” I say. “He had to make the decision to get help. Just like you need to choose something other than fighting.”
“I did choose,” he says softly, roughly. “I chose you.”
“And I chose you. None of this even comes close to changing that.”
He pulls my mouth to his and then we’re kissing, a kiss that is passion, pain, and tenderness, and yet, it’s wild and full of demand. I tug his shirt over his head and he tosses it away, standing with me to undress. And when we come back together, me on top, the thick ridge of his erection pressed inside me, there is vulnerability between us. We are exposed in every way together, and it’s the most beautiful, wildly passionate experience of my life. Dash’s hands and mouth are all over my body and mine are all over his.
Much later when we lay on the couch, our naked bodies entwined, Dash does what he has never done. He tells me stories about his brother—happy, funny stories—but there are none of his father, which hurts my heart. At some point, we fall asleep and I wake to Dash inside me again, making love to me. Afterward, he carries me to the bed, and I’m relieved when he falls asleep next to me, his breathing steady.
The storm has withdrawn, at least for tonight, but tomorrow is a new day.
We wake the next morning to Bella knocking on the door. The minute Dash sees her, he hugs her and she hugs him. Her eyes meet mine in the midst of his embrace, and she must sense that he’s okay, because she whispers, “Thank you.”
We head to the kitchen, where Bella promises us a feast. It’s about that time that Tyler sends me a text: How is he?
I reply with: Sorrowful and hopeful, but he’s okay. We are getting through it.
We exchange a few more messages and I put my phone away, joining Dash and Bella at the kitchen island.
Waffles and coffee follow and as Dash tells Bella a few of the stories he told me, I realize that in some ways he never grieved for his brother. Somehow losing his father has brought forth a need to grieve both men. And with that genuine grief, he’s healing.