Page 60 of Dash

He’s late. It’s nearly eight p.m. and there’s no sign of him. I dropped a message, one of those ‘hey, I’m not checking up on you, but are you on your way?’ and there was nothing.

He hasn’t even read it.

Now, I’m sitting on my couch, legs crossed, hugging his hoodie like a desperate waif who knows she’s about to have her heart broken.

I was so stupid for thinking this time might be different, thathemight be different. I’ve never had a relationship last as long as this one, and we’re less than a month into it.

At least I set a new personal best.

I trace back every word I said to him this morning before he left. I was riding a high. I thought he was too.

Maybe it was the message at lunchtime. Maybe he’s pissed I didn’t reply.

I swipe at the tear that rolls down my cheek. No, fuck that! I am not crying over a guy—especially one who didn’t have the courtesy to end this himself.

By nine o’clock, I’m eating my feelings. I have chocolate on his hoodie and crisp crumbs on the blanket pooled in my lap.

At nine-thirty, I relent and call him. Maybe it’s weak, but I just can’t believe he walked out of here this morning happy but decided not to come back. The way he kissed me was not the actions of a man who was planning on ditching me.

It rings, but he doesn’t pick up. I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.

By ten-thirty, I’m done—both with eating junk and unravelling. I’m exhausted, crampy and pissed.

I’m about to go to bed when my phone rings. I pounce on it and frown when I see the name on the screen.

Ivy.

Even though I really don’t feel like talking about baby stuff or how amazing Riot is, I answer because Ivy is my best girl and you don’t leave your friends hanging.

“Hey, I was just about to go to bed. Is everything okay?”

“Has anyone called you?” There’s a tremble in her voice that makes my bones straighten.

“Plenty of people call me, Ivy, but are we talking about actual people or the ten thousand spam calls I get every day?”

“Shit.” She huffs. “I told Nate you wouldn’t know.”

Dread is building in my stomach. “Know what?”

“I don’t know what happened. The guys won’t talk in detail about it, but there was an attack on one of the club’s businesses. Dash was hurt. He’s in the hospital.”

My legs fold and I sag onto the couch, almost missing the cushion.

No…

No, no, no.

This can’t be happening.

All this time I was sitting here cursing him for abandoning me, and he was in the hospital?

Is he dying?

Is he maimed?

Guilt gnaws at me, and I swallow past the sandpaper coating my throat. “How bad?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry no one told you.”

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