Page 29 of Dash

“Ow!” I rub at the area, scowling at her. “This tough love approach is not working for me,” I mutter.

“No, but it’s what you need. Dayna, my little muffin, my bestest friend in the entire world, you don’t need sugarcoated hand holding. You need the truth. You like him. You pushed him away because that scares you. And you don’t want to message him because you think he won’t come. But honey, if Dash is smart, which I think he is, he’s already seen what the rest of us see in you and he’ll come running.” Is the air thin in here? And why does it feel like I have a fist wrapped around my throat?

She grabs my phone, putting it in my hand. “Send the message. Take a leap. I’ll be right here to catch you if he doesn’t.”

Fuck. I lower my head to stare at the phone so I don’t have to meet her gaze. “You’re dramatic as fuck,” I mumble, even as my heart feels full.

“Yep. I get that privilege as your friend. Now, send the message.”

My fingers hover over the screen. What if I send this and he blocks me or the ghosts me, or messages back to leave him the fuck alone?

What if he decides I’m not worth the trouble?

What if I’m not.

What if…

My phone is plucked out of my hands. “Hey!” I try to snatch it back off Katie, who twists to the side so I can’t reach.

“You had enough time. I’m not sitting here while you talk yourself in circles for hours about whether you should do this or shouldn’t.” Her fingers slide over the screen. “There. It’s sent.”

She hands me the phone back, and I quickly check what she wrote. My brow climbs up my forehead. “Really? ‘You left your hoodie behind. I’m in all afternoon if you want to come and collect it?’ I would never send something that boring.”

Despite my words, relief is spreading through my chest. It’s out there and there’s a chance he’ll turn up.

I may get to see him again. I try not to think about how my pulse flutters.

“You can be more interesting in the next message you send him.” She smiles sweetly at me, then sighs. “You deserve to be with someone who thinks you walk on water, Dayna. I don’t say this shit often, but I’m saying it now. You’re an amazing person. Messy, sure. Certifiably unhinged, obviously. But he would be lucky to have you. Anyone would be. And he doesn’t seem like the usual narcissists you date.” That’s a polite term for what I do with men. I don’t think I’ve ever had an actual date with anyone. “Try not to overthink it. Just have fun.”

“Having fun usually gets me into trouble.”

“Not that kind of fun,” she says. “I gotta go, but message me the moment he replies.”

“You’re a nosy cow,” I complain.

“I’ll tell this story at your wedding.”

I flinch. As if she hit me with that.

“I’m not sure fucking someone in a strip club and then stealing their hoodie is the start of a long-term relationship.”

But it’s there again. The little nugget of hope blossoming in my chest. I’m not thinking about marriage, or even beyond this week, but I’m not ready to give up Dash yet, and I hope he feels the same.

EIGHT

DASH

Ivy placesa mug of coffee in front of me before sinking into the chair opposite. Her smile is warm, but I can see the worry beneath, even as she reaches for her own cup. Seren grabs for my kutte, Riot smothering her hand in his to stop her sticky fingers from touching the leather.

“Thanks,” I say to Ivy.

Since things changed in the club, I’ve been spending a lot of time between Riot’s apartment and Mace’s, not only strategising but also feeding back information about whatever shit Crank is up to.

But that’s not why I’m here this morning.

All I can think about is what happened last night. I didn’t sleep more than an hour, going over everything she said.

Every word out of Dayna’s mouth is a crossbow bolt to the chest. She wields words like weapons, waiting for them to wound. I’m not a sadist. I don’t enjoy being cut, so there’s a part of me that thinks I should just walk away.

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