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“I’m coming in.”
“No. No, you are not. If you come inside, I’ll forget why that’s a mistake because that’s what you do to me. You make me forget everything.” I press my hands to my head and then drop them. “I need to think, Dash, and I need to do it when the vodka isn’t driving every damn thing I say and think. And you’re too damn famous for us to fight this out when the Uber driver could record us. Go home.”
“That’s what you want?”
No, I think, but that’s not what I say, and it’s not what is right. “It’s the only way it can be,” I say, and I sound strong, but I’m shredded inside.
He draws a deep breath and turns and gets in the car. It kills me even if it’s what I know is right. I turn and walk to the front door. The Uber idles, unmoving, and I know Dash is making sure I get inside safely. I’ll take care of you, I hear him say in my head. Until you’re gone, I think. I enter the house, turn on the alarm and sink against the door. That’s when the tears come, an avalanche of tears. I cry for me and Dash. I cry for what could have been and never will be. I cry for my mother, who has won a battle but will always have a monster on her shoulder. She will always act brave, but underneath, she will fear the moment that monster attacks again. And I will, too. I cry and I cry some more, until I can’t cry anymore. My nose is stuffy. My face is wet and I’m on the floor.
I haul myself to my feet and walk into the bedroom. I didn’t even get my things from Dash’s place. All my favorite makeup, my big bag, and more, are still there. I walk into the bathroom and stare into the mirror. I look like a volcano erupted on my face I have so much mascara all over the place. I wash my face and start reapplying my makeup, telling myself it’s because I can’t stand to see myself looking so puffy and pathetic over a man. Not because Dash might show up at my door.
He left. I told him to leave.
I’m half done with my face and it feels pointless. I have to take it all back off to go to bed. I shut the toilet and sit down. I’m exhausted in so many ways. My cellphone buzzes from somewhere, the bed where I think I threw it. I hate how much I hope it’s Dash, but I still get up and hunt it down. I grab it from the mattress and read a message from Tyler: If you want to know the real Dash, here is your chance. Go here now. I’ll meet you there. You’ll need me, and you’ll understand why when you get there. There’s an address.
I have no idea what this means, but I don’t seem to care. It’s Dash. And it doesn’t sound good. I rush into the bathroom and look in the mirror. I’m still a mess, but I don’t care about that either. My purse is my target and I grab it and slide it on cross-body, but I pause. What if this is Tyler stirring up more trouble? I dial his phone. He answers on the first ring. “What is this?”
“You helping me save the damn fool from himself. If you care about him and you obviously do, go to the address and go now.” He hangs up.
I try to call Dash. He doesn’t answer. I’m officially worried. I pull up my Uber app and key in the address, before ordering a car. The driver will be here in five minutes. I’ll be at my destination in fifteen.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
I don’t bother with a coat. I’m hot, so very hot, and spinning out of control.
My car arrives, and the location Tyler has given me is actually not far—downtown, but not the area of downtown anyone wants to be in at almost midnight. The driver pulls me to the front of a building stamped with graffiti and surrounded by more buildings with more graffiti. There’s a huddle of a few men on the street, all of them smoking and talking. The driver looks back at me. “You sure this is right?”
I glance at the address on my phone, along with Tyler’s instructions, which say to enter the building through the red door. I find the red door, but this just doesn’t feel right. I dial Tyler and he answers with, “Are you here?”
“Yes, and it looks kind of scary.”
“Because it is. I’m already inside. I’ll come and get you.” He hangs up and I glance at the driver. “Someone is coming to get me. I’ll tip for your time.”
