by Kate Benson
“Just say it,” I rasp, swallowing hard.
I’m not going to survive this.
“Look, I know you’re trying to keep it from me, but I see it and I know it’s my fault. It’s been sitting in my gut all week just fuckin’ with me and I heard you on the phone with your mom,” he swallows hard. “Before? When I got fucked up in the head like this? Needed to relieve stress? I just…” he trails off, his eyes laced with regret meeting mine as I remember exactly how he relieved stress.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Come here,” he whispers, reaching for my hand and flinching when I pull away. “I’m sorry, Evie. I didn’t have you back then. It’s different now, but when I saw you like that, I didn’t think shit through,” he rakes his palms over his face. “I just… I freaked out. I reacted.”
“Dash,” I finally manage, my voice cracking despite my best efforts. “What did you do?”
My eyes find his as he stares ahead for a second before he steps away from me, nervously pushing the door to the spare room open. He flips the light on and stares inside for a minute before facing me.
“I broke into your mother’s house,” he sighs, making me replay the words in my head at least three times before they finally register.
“What?” I ask, moving to stand beside him, my gaze swinging toward what had been an empty room this morning, my chest clenching when I see the familiar stool and easel that had belonged to my dad.
“In my defense, if your mom wasn’t out of town and Mason wasn’t acting so fuckin’ stupid, I never would have done it, but you know, maybe that’s partly why I did, Evie. It doesn’t matter how mad he is, he doesn’t have the right to take this from you,” he says quietly, glancing down at me and gently wiping my cheeks clear. “I’m sorry I broke into your mom’s house, stole a bunch of shit, lied to you and made you cry,” he sighs, gently wiping away my traitor tears before winding his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close. “I’ll never lie to you again. I just knew if I told you what I was doing, you’d tell me not to.”
“Oh, my God,” I whisper as I release a long, low breath of relief, my own guilt waving through me when I consider where my thoughts had just been five seconds earlier. “Dash,” I lean my head against his bicep. “Baby, you seriously need to work on your delivery.”
“I’m sorry. I felt really bad about it, though,” he smirks against my hair. “Why? What’d you think I did? Cheat on you?”
“No,” I lie, closing my eyes tight as he pulls away in surprise, his gaze full of offense.
“You did! You thought I cheated on you!”
“Well, can you blame me?” I shout, throwing my arms up. “You made it sound so bad, babe!”
“Yeah, I guess,” he allows, the judgment in his gaze slowly leaving his eyes. “Still kinda makes me feel like shit you think I’d fuck around on you, but…”
“I don’t,” I cut him off. “Dash, I swear to God I don’t think that, I just… it’s been a long night and I know I’ve had relationships before, but I’m not exactly an expert myself,” I admit. “I’m sorry. I trust you, Dash. It was just…” I trail off, pulling away and looking up at him with a narrowed gaze of my own. “Wait a second! You lied to me, broke into my mom’s house and made me think you cheated on me with your bullshit delivery!” I smack him. “How the hell am I in trouble?”
He studies me for a minute, biting down on his lip in consideration before he hooks his arm around my neck and gently tucks my head under his chin. With a light tug of my hair, he brings my eyes to his.
“You wanna call it even?”
“Okay,” I nod. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
I wrap my arms around his waist, savoring in the feel of his lips pressing against the top of my head.
“Thanks for not punching me in the face when you thought I cheated on you.”
“You’re welcome,” I whisper, glancing up at him to find him already returning my smirk as I lean up to kiss him. “Thank you for robbing my mother.”
“Anything for you, little monster.”
chapter twenty-two
dash
I wake the next morning, surprised to find myself alone in bed. I stretch out, reaching to Evie’s side and find it cold, telling me she’s been awake for a while.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, I step out into the hallway with a long yawn, my body on autopilot as I stagger into the kitchen for coffee. I’m rubbing my eyes clear when movement stops me, the sight of her sitting in front of the canvas I’d stolen from her mother’s garage making me smile. I try to get a glimpse of what she’s painting, but it’s abstract.
Gorgeous as it is, it’s got nothing on her.
Soft notes creep out of the earbuds she’s wearing pull my attention to her, my slow steps into the room giving me a better view of her closed eyes as the paintbrush slides effortlessly splashing vibrant colors in front of her.
She sways slightly, her hair still wild from sex and sleep, her bare legs stained with paint. She’s in an old, button-up garage shirt she’d hijacked from my closet, ruined as she mouths the lyrics blaring in her ears and as a she raises her arm instinctively. I watch her let the piece invade her soul and as she releases a low sigh of contentment, she takes me right along with her.
Her eyes flutter open, her lips curling up just slightly as she takes in the canvas and lets out a gentle hum, tipping her head back to look up at where I’m standing behind her.
“Good morning,” she whispers, leaning her head against my chest before reaching for the back of my neck.
I bend to meet her lips, the feel of her going limp against me pulling my hands to her waist, savoring in the feel of her hooking her arm around my neck. My hands move slowly up her front, palming her breasts gently as I dip my tongue into her mouth to taste her. She releases a low moan, pulling away a moment later, dreamy-eyed and sated.
“Mornin’ pussycat,” I sigh, giving her a final peck on the lips. “How long have you been up?”
“Couple of hours,” she admits. “I was too excited to sleep.”
“Yeah?” I smile, happy when she nods and leans back against my chest, glancing back at her work.
“I dreamed of paint,” she admits, pulling one of her legs up in front of her as she rests her brush between her teeth, studying the canvas closely. “What do you think?”
“I like it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep,” I say quietly, kissing her hair. “It’s almost as pretty as you.”
“Thanks,” she smiles.
“You’re welcome,” I wrap my arms around her shoulders, hugging her hard. “Have you eaten anything?”
“No,” she shakes her head. “I came straight in here.”
“You hungry?”
“Yeah,” she admits with a long stretch as she slips off the stool, coming to a stop in front of me as she glances down at her hands with a smirk. “I’m covered in paint, though. I need to rinse off first.”
“Go take a shower,” I kiss her forehead. “How do you want your eggs?”
“Over medium,” she smiles as she follows me toward the kitchen, stopping in front of the sink to scrub her hands.
“Well, I don’t know how to make that, so scrambled it is.”
“Perfect,” she giggles, swiping a sip of my coffee and making a face at the bitter, black brew before stopping in the living room to pet the cat. “Vinnie, you know you aren’t supposed to be on the couch, buddy,” she whispers, pulling him into her arms. “You’re gonna get us in trouble.”
“You named him Vinnie?” I ask, sliding the carton of eggs onto the counter as I sip my coffee.
“Yep. Like Van Gogh,” she smirks. “He’s in my top three, beaten only by Picasso and Pollock.”
“So, if he’s third in line, why’d you name him Vinnie?”
“Just fit,” she shrugs.
“Oh,” I snort. “I thought it was because the ugly little fucker is missing part of his ear.”
; “Oh, my God!” she gasps, shielding him from me. “That’s so mean!”
“Oh, don’t cover his ear,” I roll my eyes, the deep laugh slipping out before I can stop it. “It’s not like he can hear me.”
“Baby!” she shouts, swatting at me as I choke on my coffee. “Yeah, serves you right, you ass,” she smirks as her features hold their offense. “You’re a handsome little devil, Vinnie,” she croons into his patchy fur, smiling when he lets out a ragged meow, flashing his snaggletooth. “Don’t listen to him.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about there,” I tease, laughing at her when she flips me off and sets him down in front of his food.
The sight of her stripping my paint covered shirt off as she slips down the hallway before she disappears into my bathroom has me second guessing food when the knock sounds out across my apartment, pulling at my attention.
I move toward the door and find the cat sitting there impatiently, waiting to flee.
“Don’t fuckin’ scratch me again,” I warn him low, shooing his objecting form away before pulling the door open.
I can’t say I’m surprised when I see who’s waiting on the other side.
“Hey man,” Mason says, awkwardly meeting my eyes.
“Hey,” I reply. “What’s up?”
“Tips,” he says, pulling two envelopes from his back pocket and handing them to me. “Evie left a few behind, too. They’re in the top one.”
“Thanks. I’ll head up there in a little bit and clean up.”
“We took care of it last night,” he offers and this time, I am surprised.
“Thanks,” I say again, clearing my throat as he nods.
“Don’t worry about it,” he waves me off before glancing back at me nervously. “Is she here?”
“Yeah, she’s in the shower.”
“You mind if I wait?” he asks, moving to step inside. “I need to talk to her.”
“About what?” I ask, blocking his entry.
“What?” he asks, his narrowed gaze falling somewhere between surprised and amused.
“What are you gonna say to her, Mason?”
“I don’t have to tell you that, Dash.”
“While she’s here? Yeah, you do.”
“Why? Because you’re sleeping with her?” he balks. “You think that makes it your business what I say to my sister?”
“No, but I think when my girlfriend comes to my apartment with half her shit and spends the next two days crying her eyes out because the person she trusted more than anyone else in the world made her feel like she wasn’t welcome in her own home, that kinda makes it my business,” I reply, the clench of his jaw telling me I’ve hit a nerve. “Look, I know I fucked up in more ways than one, so if you want to hate me forever, I made my bed. I get it,” I hold his eyes. “I can’t force you into forgiveness, Mason. What I can do is protect her from having her heart broken twice by the same person while she’s with me, so that’s exactly what I plan on doing.”
“I didn’t…” he shakes his head, trying desperately to hold on to his anger, but the guilt creeping in won’t let him. “I didn’t mean to make her cry. I was ups-”
“I don’t care, Mason,” I cut him off with a shrug. His anger might be fading, but mine isn’t. Not by a longshot. “As far as what you’ve got to say about me, do you really think you’re telling me something I don’t already know?” I ask. “I know I’m not perfect or even good enough for your sister, but I also know she showed up here destroyed. I know that despite all the shit you had to say about us being together, that devastation? That wasn’t because of me. And I know what I feel for that girl and I know that I don’t give a shit anymore if anyone likes it. That’s what I fuckin’ know,” I continue. “So, yeah. Maybe what’s going on between you and her is none of my business, but ask me if I give a shit and I’ll tell you what I know about that, too,” I shrug, taking a final step toward him. “Get mad, yell, throw another punch, spit your insults. Do whatever the hell it is you gotta do, but you’re gonna have to do it to me from here on out, because I’m done watching you do it to her,” I promise. “As long as she’s mine and until I have your word that you’re done treating her like shit, you can forget where I live.”
chapter twenty-three
mason
When he slams the door in my face, I can’t help but swallow hard. Between helping Amy and Tony clean up the bar and my thoughts, I’d been up half the night agonizing over the showdown I’d known was coming when I knocked on his door.
If I’m being honest, I knew last night after seeing them together that I was wrong about Dash and my sister. Yes, I still hate the idea of them together. Yes, I’m still worried about her getting hurt, but at no point in my selfish thoughts did I realize I’d been the true threat to her heart.
That’s never what I wanted.
Dash’s words resonate through me and I can’t help but be impressed. Even though I’ve been too distracted by my own emotions to keep her best interest at heart, he’s never wavered.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and release a low breath, internally cursing myself as I raise my fist and knock on the door once more.
This time, he swings it open quickly.
“Back for round two already?” he steps out, his eyebrows raised in annoyance. “Dude, you’re really starting to piss me-”
“Is this real?” I cut him off. “You swear this isn’t just some fly by night bullshit? You really love her?”
“I swear on my mother’s grave,” he says immediately, his words holding weight as he meets my eyes. “It’s real.”
“Okay,” I nod, releasing a low sigh as I run my palm over my jaw. “I believe you.”
“Don’t really give a shit, but okay,” he says bluntly, shrugging at my expression. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt your fuckin’ feelings?” he asks, cutting me off before I have a chance to answer. “Well, get over it. Stop being a dick.”
“I’m sorry, okay? Can I talk to my sister now?” I ask, watching his eyebrows raise in challenge. “You have my word.”
“Alright, but I’m serious, Mason. I don’t care if she sneezes hard. You make one more fuckin’ tear comes out of that girl’s eye and I’m gonna kick the livin’ shit outta you,” he threatens, making me roll my eyes. “Go ahead and roll your eyes. You can roll your ass right back down those steps.”
“Okay! I get it!” I shake my head. “Jesus… you’re starting to sound like a fuckin’ girl.”
“Eat me,” he says. “Don’t let the cat out.”
“When’d you get a cat?”
“Don’t ask,” he shakes his head, beginning to take a step away before he turns back to face me again. “And stop acting like we’re cool. I’m gonna be nice because I know I fucked up by sleeping with your sister and lying about it, but I’m still pretty fuckin’ mad.”
“Alright, whatever,” I sigh, following him into the kitchen. “You got any coffee?”
“Yeah,” he gestures toward the pot still steaming on the left side of the stove. “Watch this, will ya?”
I nod, watching him dry his hands on the towel hanging over his shoulder before tossing it onto the counter.
“Baby?” he calls out as he steps out of the kitchen, making his way down the hallway.
I hear her voice as he slips into his bedroom, but I can’t make out her words.
I knew he and I would be fine, but me and Evie? This is the longest we’ve ever gone without talking. Sure, we had our normal brother/sister bullshit, but never like this. We’ve always been thick as thieves, but for the first time ever, I’m nervous to talk to my sister.
Dash is right. I’ve been a total dick.
I twist the knob on the stove, shutting off the burner and moving the pan off the heat before I release a long, low sigh of anxiety. I glance into the apartment that’s become a second home to me since Dash moved in a couple years ago. For the first time since I walked in, I see the subtle differences I hadn’t noticed before. Evie’s keys o
n the hook by the door, her favorite blanket on the couch, a couple of romance novels on the end table next to her laptop and a pink candle.
I see all of it now, but it’s the familiar sight of a paint smudge in the hallway that pulls my gaze the most. I take the few steps to the room that had always been empty, surprised when I find it no longer vacant, but full of Evie’s art supplies.
“You didn’t forget the eggs, did you?” Dash’s voice interrupts my thoughts, making me swallow hard as I shake my head. “Cool. She’ll be out in a second.”
“Thanks,” I start before gesturing toward the room. “What’s all this?”
“Evie’s working on a thing for school,” he answers. “It’s not as big as her place at your moms and I’m sure she’ll still need a few things, but I thought it would help.”
“You did this?”
“It wasn’t a big deal. She needed it,” he shrugs. “Oh, by the way, I broke into your house yesterday while you were at work,” he admits, moving toward the kitchen. “You want your key back?” he glances over his shoulder. “It’s on the hook over there.”
“No, man,” I shake my head, fighting the smirk. “Nah, I’m good.”
dash
Aside from the fact that I just threatened to beat my best friend’s ass on my front porch, something that’s happened maybe twice, I’m feeling pretty good when I hear her shuffling around my bedroom.
I glance over toward where he’s taking a seat at my kitchen table a moment later, but there’s still no sign of Evie.
“Be right back,” I tell him, heading down the hall and not surprised at all when I see her standing at the foot of the bed, a string of profanity leaving her lips as she stares up at the ceiling.
“Yo, Emily Blunt,” I pull her eyes to mine, their hazy appearance making me stifle a smirk. “Your breakfast is ready.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” she whispers, biting her lip in an attempt to hide the goofy smile threatening.
“Why can’t I make you laugh?”
“Because this is gonna be awkward as fuck,” she sighs, leaning her head against my chest. “And I’m sick to death of fighting with Mason.”
