by Kate Benson
“How much is sometimes?”
“I don’t know, baby,” he replies, his eyes still set on mine. When my expression doesn’t budge at his non-answer, he releases another sigh of frustration. “A few times a week? I don’t know, Evie. I don’t care enough to-”
“And you’re telling me that you don’t think she’s trying to fuck you?”
“I’m telling you that it doesn’t matter.”
“So, she is,” I bite back, my heart seizing in my chest when his silence answers for him. “And that’s not supposed to bother me?”
“No. It really shouldn’t,” he starts, fighting an eye roll when my mouth falls open in offense. “What? The girl hits on me, I ignore her because she doesn’t fucking matter, I work my shift and I come home to you. End of story.”
“That’s not the end of the story if she’s still texting you, Dash!” I insist, raising the phone for emphasis as I glare back at him. “How are you being so flippant about this?”
“Because, I didn’t fucking do anything!” he shouts, throwing his hand up in frustration. “You’ve been with me all fucking day. Do you think I’ve got the girl holed up in the bathroom, texting me from the fucking shower?”
“Don’t make jokes about this!”
“I have to make jokes about it because it’s stupid, baby!” he counters, and his pacing stops as he faces me. “I work in a bar. Women are going to hit on me. I can’t help that, but I also can’t throw a fit like a little bitch every time it happens and expect to keep a fucking jo.”
“Stop making excuses!”
“I want you to think about what you’re accusing me of for two fucking seconds,” he says, this time, his voice low enough that I can hear the hurt there, too. “Am I perfect? No, but you’re pregnant with my kids in my fucking bed right now, Evie. Do you really think if I wanted anyone or anything else, this is where we’d fucking be?”
His words stop me cold, give me the reality check I need to find a semblance of calm in what I’m realizing too late is my own irrational insecurities flaring. I’m about to answer when a tap on the door cuts me off, pulling his attention from me for a moment as he reaches for the handle.
“What’s up, man?” Dash greets my brother, his exhaustion obvious.
Mason holds his eyes for only a moment before his attention moves directly to mine in concern. “You guys okay in here?”
“Yeah,” Dash sighs, shaking his head. “Just a regular fuckin’ Tuesday night.”
His words bring a low growl from my still heaving chest that only cause his shoulders to quirk up in sarcastic defiance as I roll my eyes at him.
“Eve?” he says, pulling my gaze to his, his expression softening when he catches me trying to discreetly wipe away my tears. “You alright, kid?” I swallow hard passed the anger, my hands still shaking slightly as I push out a deep breath and manage a nod. “You sure?”
I move my eyes to Dash for a moment and find him staring back at me, his eyes softer now, too.
There’s a part of me that doesn’t feel alright at all. It’s the same part that feeds me the insecure thoughts that have been coursing through me for weeks despite his reassurances. The same part that reminds me of how different things are now than when Dash and I first began. The part that makes me fear I’m no longer enough to keep the only thing I’ve ever truly loved.
However, the bigger part of me knows I trust him. It also knows if I push my anger and hurt to the side just long enough to be honest with myself, I’m being completely unreasonable right now.
Dash Hunter is many things, but a liar isn’t one of them.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I say quietly, sniffing back my emotions. “I’m sorry we woke you up.”
“No worries,” he waves me off with a small smile. “I don’t want to butt in,” he continues, his eyes narrowing at Dash’s sarcastic snort of disbelief. “I just wanted to make sure you were good.”
“Thanks,” I smile, this time more genuinely as he shoots me a wink and heads back down the hall.
Dash closes the door but makes no effort to move toward me. Instead, he stares down at the floor in front of him for a moment before he raises his eyes to mine.
“You lyin’?” he asks, his voice low.
“Only halfway,” I manage, wiping my cheek clean when another traitor tear begins to find its way to the surface.
“Baby,” he sighs. “I’m not a fuckin’ cheater.”
“I know,” I admit, rubbing my palms over my face for a moment before I blow out a breath and face him. “I know.”
“So, why do you treat me like one?” he asks, his tone much softer than the blunt question should allow as he takes a few steps closer and stops at the foot of the bed. “I’m not trying to be a dick, Evie, but you’ve got to stop this shit.”
“Look, I understand. I overreacted,” I sigh, my eyes softening in apology as I hold his gaze once more. “But did you ever stop to think that if you told me stuff like this, I maybe wouldn’t freak out?”
“Yeah, I did,” he concedes. “I was going to tell you the first night and then the second and third … all the way up until two days ago.”
“So, why didn’t you?”
“Because every time I thought about bringing it up, I’d start thinking about how it would make you feel and I kept my fucking mouth shut, Evie,” he admits. “You’ve been emotional and insecure as shit lately. Why the hell would I want to make you feel worse?” he asks, taking a step closer and crouching beside me, gently brushing my hair from my face as he settles his free hand in mine. “Maybe that was wrong. Maybe I should’ve said something, but I knew nothing was ever going to happen because I’m not that fuckin’ guy,” he insists. “So, I guess I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but honestly, it’s only because you’re pissed off at me right now.”
“Are you serious?” I gasp at his words.
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “I still think I did the right thing by not bringing extra shit to you for no fuckin’ reason.”
“That’s stupid and you’re wrong,” I reply immediately, swiping another tear away before I face him. “Next time, text me from work the second it happens.” He starts to argue, but I cut him off. “I’m serious. I don’t care how ridiculous you think I’m being about this. You don’t get to keep secrets from me,” I insist. “I get that this is your job and you have to deal with shit that I fucking hate, but those girls up there, Dash? You don’t love them, you love me. You live with me. You knocked me up,” I remind him. “Your days of being polite to whores are fucking over and I don’t really give a shit if that makes things awkward for you. You’re just going to have to deal with it,” I insist. “Whatever little bit of nice you’ve got left inside you belongs to me and these babies. If those skanks have a problem with that, you can tell them to eat shit and die, because you best believe if this ever happens again, I’ll walk my pregnant ass into that bar and do it myself,” I threaten. “You got that?”
“I got it,” I nod, unable to wipe the smirk away as she grips my neck and presses her lips to mine. “You know, I’m sorry I made you cry, but it’s still pretty fuckin’ hot seeing you get all jealous and territorial.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she replies dryly as she reluctantly hands my phone back to me and wipes the last of her tears away. “I’m still pretty pissed off.”
“I know,” I nod, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, savoring in the way she leans into my touch.
Her typically brave eyes are hidden beneath a mountain of vulnerability and it makes my chest clench.
“Do you swear that it’s nothing?”
“It’s less than nothing,” I say immediately, holding her eyes. “I wouldn’t hurt you like that, Evie.”
She stares at me, studying my features for a split second before she gives me a quick nod.
“Okay,” she replies, biting onto her lip. “No more secrets.”
“No more,” I whisper. “I promise.”
Thankfully, things we
nt back to normal between Dash and me right after our fight. It’s perhaps one of my favorite things about this unlikely relationship we’ve found ourselves in, the ability to bounce back after a disagreement or misunderstanding and see what truly matters. I’ve never had that with anyone before, romantically or otherwise. I used to think it was a consequence of years at each other’s throats. That the constant back and forth mixed in with our newfound love made it easier to lick our wounds.
I don’t believe that anymore.
Now, I’m convinced it’s simply knowing we have something worth fighting for.
While there’s a part of me that felt embarrassed about my reaction that night, I also can’t say I regret it happening. I hate that I’d accused Dash of such horrible things. He didn’t deserve that. What did need to happen, though, was me coming to terms with the fact that things are changing fast. Not just with our relationship, but with every aspect of our lives.
I’ve never been someone who’s had an easy time relinquishing control. In fact, the scariest part of all of this might be knowing the control I’ve had over certain parts of my life keeps slipping further from my grasp with each passing day.
That night was painful, but not nearly as painful as keeping all those insecurities locked up inside.
None of those feelings were his fault to begin with, but Dash giving me the patience and love I needed to acknowledge they existed has only made us stronger.
I’m lost in thoughts of him, lost in the vibrant blues and greens sliding across the canvas when my phone dings quietly at my side, pulling me out of my happy place. I shake my head clear slowly, the full scope of my days work coming into focus as I tilt my head and let myself take it in. A simple smudge here, a tiny correction there and I bite the brush between my teeth before taking another step back.
“Shit,” I sigh, my chest deflating at the same time my phone dings once more. “I’m coming,” I whisper toward my table, reaching for my phone and silencing the alarm once and for all. I lift it into my hands, snapping a quick update for Dash and with another glance, toss the brush to the side. “Dammit.”
“Rough day?”
I glance up to find the wide but sympathetic smile of one of the other artists, Jude, beaming back at me.
“Kind of,” I admit, rolling my brushes into their case as I shake my head. “I just…” I sigh. “I don’t know what my problem is. I know what I want, it’s just-”
“I get it,” she cuts me off with an understanding smile. “Have you had a feature yet?”
“No,” I shake my head.
“Yeah, I see it happen all the time with artists when they first come in,” she nods. “It’s totally normal, you’re too in your head,” she promises, glancing back at my painting. “You’re really good. It’ll come together.”
“Thanks,” I smile, reaching for my bag. “I hope you’re right.”
“You know, me and a few of the other girls paint in the park on Friday nights,” she says, her eyes moving back to mine. “You should join us sometime. It’s a great way to get some exposure between features.”
“Yeah?”
“For sure,” she nods. “Me, Connie, Leigh, Shawna and Jessica all meet up around eight-thirty. Heather and Suzanne come sometimes, too, when they can. Loads of locals come and it’s fun.”
“That sounds really cool,” I smile. “I’ll talk to my boyfriend and see what his schedule looks like.”
“What’s your number?” she asks. “I’ll text you the details. Let me know if you can make it and we’ll save you a spot.”
“Thank you,” I beam. “That would be great.”
Twenty minutes later, I walk into our apartment, the sound of Radiohead, the scent of Italian and the sight of Dash standing in front of the stove in nothing but low hung sweats invades my senses.
“I’m home,” I call out, setting my things down and bending to give Vinnie a quick kiss hello. “There’s my handsome boy,” I croon, smiling at his low growl-like purr. “Were you a good boy for daddy?” I ask, earning another less friendly noise that makes me smirk as I stand and round the corner. “Hi baby.”
“Hey pussycat,” he smiles wide back at me, raising his arm and circling it around me when I wrap myself around him and reach up on my toes for a kiss. “How’s my girl?”
“Sleepy, but good. How are you?” I smile, lingering against his lips for a moment before I return my heels to the tile and watch him stir spaghetti sauce. “I thought you didn’t like spaghetti?”
“I don’t, but you said you wanted it, so I made it for you,” he says, squeezing me tighter to his side. “And I’m good, baby.”
“Thanks,” I reply as I kiss his shoulder. “What are you having?”
“I can have a sandwich or something,” he shrugs, waving me off when I make a face. “You’re kind of late getting home. Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I nod, kissing his jaw once more before I release him and move toward the fridge. “Sorry, I got caught up talking to one of the other girls at work. She invited me to this thing in the park on Friday night.”
“Yeah?” he smiles, making me nod. “What kind of thing in the park?”
“It’s a-” I start, my words being cut short when I deflate, realizing after three failed attempts, I can no longer lift myself onto my favorite spot on the counter beside him. “Dammit. That was my last cool thing!”
“Come here, sugar,” he chuckles, setting the spoon to the side before he reaches for me, lifting me easily and pressing his lips to my nose. “There ya go.”
“Thanks,” I blush, shaking away my lingering insecurities before I return my attention to him.
We catch up on the day, me telling him about mine as he tells me about the night before. Before I can let my thoughts roam too far off the deep end, he feeds me spaghetti on the counter. Once we’re done with dinner, he carries me to the shower, delicious visions of his ink clad arms as they caged me in beneath the spray making me heady as I follow him to the door.
“You gonna be okay?” he asks, pulling me to his front as I rest my arms over his shoulders and offer him a half-hearted nod. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I just wish you didn’t have to go in tonight,” I admit, savoring in the feel of his hand splaying across my lower back as he holds me close. “I hate sharing you.”
“You’re not sharing me,” he promises, pressing his lips to mine as he holds my eyes. “I’m yours.”
“I know,” I smile, resting my head on his broad chest for a second before I reluctantly pull away. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, pussycat,” he promises as he peppers my skin with a half dozen kisses before he quickly sinks his lips into my neck and tickles me with his scruff.
“Stop it!” I squeal, pulling a husky chuckle from his chest. “Don’t get me all worked up again right before you leave.”
“Call me if you need me,” he orders gently as he grips my jaw and places a final kiss on my lips. “Don’t forget to send nudes.”
Twenty-Four
dash
“Baby,” I groan, rolling over to face her, gently placing my hand on her stomach. “What the fuck?”
“I’m sorry,” she huffs, finally resting flat on her back and staring up at the ceiling of our bedroom, swallowing hard. Before I can ask her again, her nose scrunches up and she begins to sob beside me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, sitting up beside her and giving her a quick onceover before I place my hand on her forehead. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she sniffs, pulling my hand from her head and holding it in hers between us. “I’m sorry. I can’t get comfortable. Every time I start to fall asleep, the babies start flippin’ around in there and it wakes me up. I’m supposed to get up to go to the studio in an hour and I think I’ve only slept like two.”
“Pussycat,” I whisper, pulling her across the bed to rest against my chest. She looks up at me, her blue eyes brighter beneath her tears and I brush my thumb across her cheek, swiping them
away. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“It’s not your fault,” she cries, resting easier against me now. “Well, I mean, it kind of is,” she allows, resting her hands on her belly and making me laugh. “But it’s okay.”
“Such a sweetheart,” I tease, pressing my lips to her hair. “Why don’t you stay home today?”
“I need to go in,” she sighs, shaking her head. “I still have so much left to do on my piece and I’m supposed to go to the park again tonight and…” she trails off once more, her emotions getting the better of her all over again. “I just want to sleep.”
“Shh,” I whisper as I slip my hand under her shirt and rub her skin. “Here. Get naked, sugar.”
“Seriously?” she asks, whipping her head around to face me accusingly. “What about this is turning you on right now?”
“Baby, I’m not trying to fuck you,” I chuckle. “I’m trying to help you get comfortable.”
“Oh,” she sniffs, her eyes apologetic. “Sorry.”
“I mean, I will. I’ve got a whole list of shit popping into my head right now just going off how spectacular your tits look today,” I promise, making her blush. “But I want you to rest first.”
“Me, too,” she admits, raising to pull her shirt over her head before she slips her panties off and tosses them away.
“Good girl,” I whisper, pulling her close once more. “Can you reach your phone?”
“Yeah.”
“Give it to me,” I order gently, taking it from her and scrolling through her alarm settings. I shut them all off and set the phone on my table, turning back toward her. “Okay, you’re not going in.”
“Dash, I-”
“Not arguing about it,” I cut her off, gripping her chin and pressing my lips to hers. “If you feel better in a few hours, you can go in late, but you’re not leaving this bed until you’ve slept.”
“Babe-”
“You’ll make yourself sick and it’s not good for the babies,” I speak over her again, relieved when she finally relents and rests her head against my bicep. “Try on your side,” I whisper, helping her with the blanket as she shifts, her bare ass resting against my front pulling a low hum from my chest. “Better?”
