Page 68 of Dash

I’m not even surprised my beautiful girl made friends with a man who most of my club have never heard speak. She draws people to her, even the emotionally stunted and repressed.

“Only for an hour or so before Riot turned up.” She shifts her shoulders. “I like him. He doesn’t feel the need to fill silence with small talk, and he brought me snacks.”

We reach her door, and she unlocks it, stepping aside to let me in.

As soon as she closes the door, I’m in her space, my hands wrapped around her cheeks. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You look tired.”

“Finding out my boyfriend was in the hospital wrung me out.”

Boyfriend. I’ve never hated a word so much. It feels limp for what we are, what she means to me.

I scan her face, the exhaustion lining every inch of her. Fuck, I did that to her. I made her scared.

My mouth finds hers, and I kiss her like she is the only thing that matters—because she is.

SIXTEEN

DAYNA

“If I’d knownyou look so damn fine wearing that little belt thing, I would’ve asked you to fix something sooner.”

My gaze lingers on the tool belt around his waist before my eyes drift along the muscles of his abdomen to the tattoos covering his chest.

The man is fine… with a capital F.

I don’t focus on the strips covering his head wound. I can’t without spiralling into panic.

He’s okay. I’m okay.

Breathe.

Even though it’s been a few days since he was in the hospital, the fear still skitters through me every time I think about what could have happened.

He glances at me, smirking. “I don’t need to fix something to wear this.”

I wiggle my eyebrows. “Kinky. What about if I wear it?Justthat?”

His hand freezes, his knuckles tight around the screwdriver he’s holding. “We’re definitely trying that later.”

I laugh, though he looks far better in it than I ever could.

I don’t know what is wrong with my body, but since Dash got hurt, I’ve felt wrong. Weird.

It’s probably stress.

I’ve been permanently bloated, and everything is turning my stomach.

He could have died.

But he didn’t. And that’s not why I’m bloated.

Maybe I need to cut carbs out of my diet again…

The thought makes me want to drown myself in the shower. Carbs make me happy, even if my hips don’t like them.

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