When I Say Yes

by Lisa Renee Jones

  The drive is not short. It’s long. It’s eternal. It’s to an area of the city I’ve never traveled to, but whatever. I don’t care. I just want this to be over. We pull up to a building and halt. Mark glances over at me. “You’re doing the right thing. He won’t see that tonight. You’re intruding on an addiction. The apology, the appreciation, comes later. You need to know that.”

  He’s right. This is going to be painful. “I never thought Mark Compton would be my relationship counselor.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Ms. Wright,” he says, and just when I might compare him to Tyler, he adds what Tyler did not, “and you never will.” He reaches for his door. “Stay where you are. I’ll come to get you.” He exits the car.

  I don’t stay where I’m at. The last thing I need is for Dash to see me with Mark and think there is something between us. I might be angry with him, I might be hurt, but I’m not mean. Nor do I wish to hurt him the way he’s hurt me. I exit the car and huddle into my coat, and not because I’m cold, at least not the kind of cold created by the weather. The kind of cold that chills the heart until it’s brittle and broken. Mark rounds the vehicle and both he and Adrian join me at the same moment.

  Mark motions us forward and our path leads to a steel door guarded by a tall, bald, bulky, angry-looking man who towers above us all. Mark greets him, shaking his hand. “The little lady is the one I told you about,” he says. “She’s going to give my money man a talking to before he fights.”

  In other words, Mark bet on Dash to make this happen for me. God, I owe this man in spades. The doorman smiles at Mark, but still manages to look angry. “I heard you laid some money out on that one tonight. He’s here. He just got here about ten minutes ago.” He motions me to the door. “Last door on the right at the end of the hallway. Talk to our boy, sweetie, but don’t fuck him. Fucking a man before a fight fucks him up. We want our big gamer here happy.”

  I suck in a breath at the brazen words as Adrian opens the door and motions me forward. “You got this,” he says softly. “And if you don’t, Lucifer will be inside waiting on you, and I’ll be here keeping the door company.”

  His words zap just enough of the adrenaline I’m feeling to steady my knees. I’ve brought the cavalry and while that might make me feel better, somehow, I don’t think it will do the same to Dash. I nod and enter the hallway and I swear my heart is racing all over again. What am I doing? Dash sent me away. He doesn’t want me here. He made his choice and it wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.

  I’m almost to the end of the hallway and I halt. He made his choice.

  I’m about to turn, but have second thoughts. I came here because I want to save him, I remind myself, not because he wants me to do this. I came despite the fact he does not want saving. I’ve run a lot in my life. I will not run now.

  Decision made, resolve firmly I place, I march forward and step into a room lined with lockers with a few half-naked men milling about. Lord help me. One of them turns and looks me up and down. I cut right to the first door and I don’t knock. I just walk in. And to both my relief—yes, I’ve found him—and unnerving—my God, he really plans to fight, I find Dash.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Just seeing Dash and my emotions are a jumbled mess. I feel everything for this man when I’m with him. It’s silly, I know. It’s too much and too everything.

  Maybe I should define it as too much.

  That’s what tonight has proven.

  I feel too much for Dash Black.

  He’s in sweats, naked from the waist up, wrapping his wrist. His body is perfect, as hard as his expression when he looks up and finds me standing there.

  The instant he registers I’m the one in his room, his arms drop to his sides, his jaw flexing. “What the hell are you doing here, Allie?” His voice is low, taut like his mood.

  “I came for you,” I whisper, then in a stronger voice, I say, “I came to save you from yourself.”

  “You don’t belong here.”

  “No,” I agree readily, “but neither do you.”

  I blink and he’s in front of me, caging me to the door without ever touching me, a hand on either side of my head. I want him to touch me. God, how I want him to touch me. “Dash—”

  “The person you know is not who I am when I’m here,” he growls. “Do you understand? That is not who I am here.”

  I don’t know what that means, but I don’t like the pinch in my chest those words create. “You said you wouldn’t do this again.”

  “I said a lot of things we both wanted to believe. They were all bullshit.”

  “Say what you want, Dash. Hurt me. Grind my heart into pieces. It’s fine. I knew what I was getting into with you, but if you do this, if you fight tonight, Brandon and your father will find out. And they win. They get what they want. They will hurt you.”

  “Do you think I give a shit?”

  I want to touch him but something holds me back, something tells me he won’t react well. “I know you want to punish yourself,” I say instead. “I know you blame yourself for your brother’s death, even if in your core, you know it’s not your fault.”

  “You know nothing about my brother.”

  “But I know you. And I’ve seen how shitty your father can be. Punish yourself if you must, but don’t do it to their benefit. Keep it private. Go to another damn country and fight, Dash. Don’t do it here. Don’t do it now.”

  “Go home, Allie.”

  “I’m already home, Dash. We both know it. No matter what decision you make, I’m done. I’m not going back to Nashville. Not to live. Not even to work.” Someone knocks on the door and then it opens, shoving me into Dash as it does.

  He catches me to him, the touch electric, powerful, and whatever was ever between us is here now. His eyes meet mine and a punch of awareness blasts into us. But Dash doesn’t react by holding me tighter. He sets me firmly away from him and his gaze lifts toward the door. I turn to find yet another big, burly man in the entryway. He eyes me and then Dash. “Mario wants to see you.”

  I’m still reeling from the way he set me away from him with such decisiveness, with a decision in the action. A decision that said he chose fighting, not me, not even himself because fighting could end badly in all kinds of ways—hurt him, hurt his career. I turn to face Dash but I don’t meet his stare. “I’ll let you get back to what’s really important to you.” I rotate and duck under the giant man’s arm and all but run toward the door while my eyes blur with tears and the room spins. I can’t get out of here quickly enough and once I’m at the door, I shove it open and keep walking.

  Adrian is instantly by my side. “Allie, what happened?”

  “I just need out of here,” I say. “Please take me home.”

  All of a sudden, someone catches my arm and I’m spun around to face Dash. “What the hell are you doing, Allie?” he demands.

  “Go inside, Dash. The press will find you out here.” I try to jerk away.

  He pulls me closer and his gaze lifts to Adrian. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “He’s with Walker Security,” I say. “The security team for Riptide. They found you as a favor. Obviously, I should have saved the favor for a better time.”

  His gaze jerks back to mine and he catches my hand. “Come with me.” He starts walking quickly. I can barely keep up. My heart is racing. My entire body is quaking.

  “Dash, stop!” I call, all but falling down.

  He doesn’t stop. A man I don’t know appears beside yet another SUV and opens the rear passenger door. Dash halts us right there. “Joseph, my driver, will drive you. Go home.”

  My heart sinks with the realization that he’s going back into the fight club, he’s going to fight. And yes, I could argue with him, but I don’t even know what the point is right now. The sooner I’m inside the vehicle, the sooner I’m away from him. And that’s what we both want. Away. From each other. Being with him hurts too much. Being with him tells me what a fool I was and am.
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  “Yes,” I say. “I do believe it’s time for me to go home.”

  I slide inside the vehicle. Dash leans in and looks at me, his eyes burning into mine, but he says nothing. He eases back outside and shuts the door. My brittle, cold heart shatters into a million pieces. My cellphone rings with Mark’s number. I answer. “Hi.” My voice is weak, but then, my heart is broken. How can it not be?

  “What are you doing?” he demands softly.

  “Not what he thinks. I’m not leaving. I’ll be at work Monday morning.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yes. Very.”

  “If you need help—”

  “You already helped. You gave me the chance to see things bright and clear.”

  “Ms. Wright—”

  “Allie,” I say, thinking I’m nobody to anyone right now, not even my boss. “I’m Allie.” I disconnect.

  Joseph is behind the wheel and we’re already moving. I decide to be strategic with Joseph. He’s not going to drop me at my apartment when that’s not what Dash ordered him to do. He’s going to take me to the airport. “I need to go to the hotel to pack.”

  He eyes me in the mirror. “Understood.”

  I sink back against the seat and start replaying the exchange with Dash. He was cold. Brutally cold. As if there had never been any warmth in him for me at all. I text Tyler: I found him. But he’s going to fight. I can’t change that. And don’t call. I’ll call you tomorrow. I can’t talk now. I just can’t. I’ll call you tomorrow.

  I hit send and slide my phone into my purse.

  Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the hotel and luckily Joseph promises to wait out front, as he can’t leave the SUV unattended. I hurry inside the building, racing through the lobby, a plan in place. Once I’m in our room, I quickly pack my clothes, my clothes. I leave everything Dash bought me. I wasn’t with him for gifts and fancy travel. I was with him for him, though I’m not sure I even know who that is anymore.

  As soon as I have everything I need, I walk to the door, but I can’t say I don’t look back.

  I do.

  And I do so with tears in my eyes.

  Instead of exiting the front door where Joseph will be waiting, I leave via a side exit. Now on the sidewalk, headed away from the hotel, I lug the heavy bag down the sidewalk, struggling with every bump and jolt, as if this night can’t get any suckier. Tears stain my cheeks when I finally walk into my apartment and drop the bag, sinking to the floor, my body quaking. I need to be alone. I can’t be with a man. I choose all wrong. I chose so wrong. And this time, this time, I really fell in love.

  I eye the bottle of wine and force myself to my feet. I’m going to get drunk. I never get drunk, but I want to right now. I have to numb this pain. I leave my things at the door and march behind the small island—which seemed so impressive in my little apartment when I rented it, but not so much now—and fill a glass. I down several long swallows.

  I have to call my mom tomorrow and tell her what’s going on. No. I have to figure out what I’m doing and I can’t do that yet. Not in this state of mind. I down the rest of the wine and refill my glass. This time I walk to my bedroom and pull back the curtains to stare at my view. A building is my view. Why did none of this feel crappy before now?

  I could blame Dash, but it’s more about Nashville. I missed it. I chased a dream to New York, achieved the dream, but the dream wasn’t everything I’d hoped. I like Hawk Legal. I think I can make a difference there. And if Mark is willing, maybe I can pull my two worlds together and create one perfect one. With my mother close. With Dash close, but without him in my life.

  I can’t make decisions based on a man.

  Never again.

  Never again.

  Suddenly there’s a knock on the door, a pounding that jolts me to the point I almost spill my wine.

  “Allie! Open up. I know you’re in there.”

  At the sound of Dash’s voice, I tremble inside.

  He’s here. He’s not at the fight club. He’s not fighting there, but as he pounds on the door and calls out my name again, “Allie!” it’s clear he is here to fight. Fine. Bring it. I’m ready for a fight.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I set my glass down, liquid splashing over the sides, the buzz of wine all too present—a mistake no doubt, but this night is filled with mistakes. Why not add yet another fight with Dash to the list? By the time I’m at the door, he’s calling out, “Allie, damn it! Open up.”

  “I have neighbors, Dash!” I grab the door and swing it open, give his unharmed face a quick inspection, and demand, “Don’t you have a fight to be at?”

  He steps forward, crowding me. His hands are on my waist and he’s walking me backward into the apartment and slamming the door shut. “What the hell, Allie?” he demands.

  “You’re cursing at me again, Dash,” I snap. “Damn you.”

  “Hell yes, I am. I told you to go home. Neil was supposed to tell you to he was sending a driver to take you to the airport.” He looks around at the tiny space and says, “This is not your home. We have a home in Nashville.”

  “Because what I earned on my own isn’t good enough for your taste?” I snap.

  “Because anywhere that’s not with me is not good enough.”

  “Anywhere you can order me to is not a home. It’s a prison. I’m not a possession, Dash. And don’t treat me like I’m a member of a harem who does as you command.” I twist away from him, putting space between us and holding up my hands. “No more. I went into this—whatever this was—with you, knowing I would get hurt. Now, it’s happened. Now, I can’t do this anymore, Dash. No more.”

  “There’s no harem, Allie. There’s just you.”

  “Seems more like there’s just you. Go fight. Do what makes life livable for you.”

  “I’m here right now for a reason. You’re what makes life livable. You.”

  “Liar,” I accuse. “I’m done with the lie that was us, Dash. I’m done. Go box. Go do you.”

  I blink and he’s closed the space between us again, his hand cupping my head, and dragging my mouth to his. “I don’t want you to be done. I’m not done.”

  “You told me we weren’t good for each other anymore.”

  “I told you I wasn’t good for you.”

  “And then you told me to go home. And that’s what I did.”

  “If this is home, then we’ll live here.”

  His breath is warm. His body is hard and even warmer. “Stop,” I hiss, shoving on his chest. “You chose, Dash. And it wasn’t me or us.”

  To my shock and with a stab to my heart, he releases me then, almost as if I’ve reminded him of a truth, a reality that still exists. He turns away, giving me his back, dragging a hand through his hair. It’s then that I realize he’s not even wearing a coat. He’s in a white T-shirt and jeans, muscles bunched up in his shoulders. He faces me. “I was trying to save you, Allie. From me.”

  I laugh without humor. “I told you before. It’s too late for that. I’m pretty sure it was too late the day we met.”

  “No,” he says. “No, it’s not too late. But it will be if I don’t leave now.” He rotates away from me again and then he’s at the door, his hand on the knob.

  My heart thunders in my chest and the room spins. If he walks out of this apartment, we’re done. We’re over. And he’s going to. I know he’s going to leave. A part of me wants to scream at him to come back. The other part of me wants him to just go, just get it over with so I can try to move on. Yes, leave, Dash, I think, but that’s not what my heart really wants and the words that follow are ripped straight from my soul. “I used to think I was the one who ran. But I was wrong. All you do is run and hide, Dash.” His hand is still on the doorknob, but it doesn’t turn and he doesn’t move. He is more stone than man right now, impenetrable, and I can’t hold back.

  I’m unleashed now, my tongue loosened from the wine. “That’s what fighting is to you. A way to hide in the punishment, wallow in th
e pain, and never do the work to get beyond it. I’m part of that work. Being with me makes you have to look me in the eye and that’s worse than in the mirror, apparently.”

  Seconds tick by and then he moves and not to open the door. I blink and he’s in front of me, his fingers diving into my hair once more. “Holy hell, woman,” he murmurs, and then his mouth is crashing down on mine, and he doesn’t give me time to object. He owns me with his mouth, claims me with the licks of his tongue and the taste of man, whiskey, and demand.

  I moan with the feel of his hand sliding up my back, molding me closer. “If you want to know everything, Allie,” he says, pressing his lips to my neck and then my ear, “you have to give everything.”

  Guilt stabs at me with the knowledge that I have yet to tell him everything, but then, he never gave me the chance. “Stay long enough for me to get the chance and I will.”

  His hand slides over my head, over my hair, and tilts my face to his. “And what if you can’t?”

  “What if I can?” I challenge.

  “Yes,” he says softly, his voice raw, vibrating. “What if you can?”

  It’s a question. It’s a challenge. It’s a promise of happiness tainted with the possibility of failure. It’s a twisty road with steep drops and a crash that could rip the very life from our light grip. Or perhaps we’re inside a mighty dark forest of trauma and history, of pain and torment, and we’re there without a weapon or any protection. Monsters lurk in this forest—our monsters, and they are evil, fanged beasts. One looks like his father. One looks like mine.

  His hand slides from under my hair and cups my neck, and he drags my mouth to his. “Now would be the time for you to run, Allie.”

  There’s a shift in his energy, a stark punch of hunger and demand beneath his surface. His free hand slides up to the front of my sweater, and he yanks the front, hard and fast, and all the way down. I gasp as the little buttons that held it together pop and fly everywhere.