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He wraps his arm around me, pulling me against his chest again. That he wants to snuggle me makes me feel like a safety blanket. And I want to be just that. He’s been there for me even when he didn’t know how much it meant.
His arms envelop me. “I’ve been having the dream for years now.”
Years? “What do you think it means?”
“Don’t know.” His chest rises and falls under my cheek. “I really don’t know. I don’t know what I’m running from. Or maybe I’m running toward something. All I know is I never get there.” He jiggles me under his arm. “I bet you’re one of those girls who’s got a dream dictionary or something.”
I giggle. “No. But my sister does.”
Hm.My sister.She’s coming in just a few weeks, and I haven’t spoken to Dash about it. I fold in on myself, wondering how I’m going to bring it up. I don’t want him to feel kicked out. I don’t even want him to leave because I’m already used to this rhythm we have. It feels like home.
But equally, am I going to share a double bed with my sister in the room next door to my boss? And is Dash, who’s basically grumpy with everyone but me and Eve, seriously going to want to have my sister here? My original plan was to have him meet her when she came and see if it sparked a next course of action, but he took off like a bat out of hell.
I’ve gotten myself into a pickle. Worse than a pickle. Pickles are tasty.
“How do you do it?” he asks out of the blue.
“What do you mean?” I ask, hoping he can’t read my mind the way he has so many other times since we became “friends.”
He kisses the top of my head and breathes in my hair. “You’ve been through… I mean… I hate to say it, but if I’m being direct, I’d call it neglect.”
Something pinches inside when he says it. I don’t like to think of myself as a neglected child, even if at times all that was in the house to eat for breakfast were pizza crusts from the day before. Even if I did do people’s homework for them sometimes in exchange for some of their packed lunch. Until I wasn’t smart enough anymore to offer that service.
“My mom loves me,” I defend her.
I defendmyself.
“I’m sure she does. I’m sure she loves you deeply, but that doesn’t mean she was taking care of you.”
My eyes sting. “Yeah…” I mutter. Even though some days it doesn’t feel like it, I say, “But that was a long time ago.”
I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. I’m a grown woman now.
“So how is it that you can still be so…” Fatigue weighs down his voice, but he keeps on talking. “I would have thought a person like you would end up feeling less…” He almost drifts away. “It’s just…”
I can’t tell if he’s struggling because he’s about to say something bad or something good. Or if he’s just falling back asleep.
He traces his fingers along my bicep. His voice is low and almost distant. “You shine like someone who’s never been hurt. How do you keep smiling like that?”
It’s a compliment, likely meant to make me feel good, because Dash wouldn’t insult me. I know that now. Still, his words don’t have the intended effect because it’s the first time the sad realization hits me. “I kept smiling because someone had to.”
“Mmm…” His hum drifts farther away from me.
I lie there in the darkness, trying not to let the ache of my lonely memories find a place in my bones again. I’ve come a long way and need to focus on the future, not the past.
Dash’s heart beats into my ear, and it’s a sound as deep and comforting as his smooth voice. The sound of it rumbles against my cheek.
“I like that we aren’t perfect.”
He says these words in a near delirium, but when I hear them, I come alive. Most women want a man who thinks they’re perfect. As a lifelong people-pleaser, I’d rather have a man not looking for perfection because I am so damn sick of chasing people for gratitude. I want a man who likes me broken, messy, and even when I don’t smile. Dash hasn’t really seen me that way, but his words have me dropping any guard left, even if at this point, it’s just a sheet hanging in the wind.
“Dash?” I whisper, wondering if he’s dropped back off completely.
“Mmm?”
“I’m trying to change my story.” I paint a swirl in his chest hair, right over that gorgeous heart of his.
“I like the sound of that, Molly. And I know you will.”
