Page 53 of Dash

I nod. “Yes, sir,” I say softly, and he smiles gently at me.

They ask what Rodger was doing there and how long we have been together. I inform them of our breakup and my relationship with Dash. I tell them they can check my phone records and that I have had no contact with Rodger whatsoever. That he is the one who keeps contacting me. I tell them about Dash’s wreck, and about how Rodger admitted to it.

“Has he filed a report?” he asks regarding Dash.

I shake my head. “Not that I’m aware of,” I say truthfully.

“Go on,” he says before he writes a few things in his notebook.

Their eyes get bigger and bigger with every sentence that I speak. I think they considered this a domestic dispute between two lovers, but that was not even close to what it was. I was trying to save my life. I was trying to protect Dash and myself. Even though he hates me. Shouldn’t he? I couldn’t even tell him what I was feeling. I couldn’t even tell him how much I have fallen for him, and I blame Rodger for that. He taught me that people can use that against you, and I didn’t want Dash to use me like that. I wanted what we had to be special. Now, it’s just ruined.

“Thank you, Miss Knight,” the heavyset officer, Thomas, says as he writes down in his little notepad. “After what you have told us, it’s clear that it was self-defense.”

“You’re not going to arrest me?” I ask stupidly.

“No,” he says crossing his arms over his chest. “But I do highly suggest that you come down to the station.” I frown. “You need to file a restraining order.”

“A restraining order? But we go to the same college. How would that work?”

“Ma’am,” he says before he licks his lips, “you need to protect yourself. Next time, it could be worse.”

“But a restraining order is just a piece of paper,” I inform him, and he sighs.

“As true as that might be, it legally protects you. And if he violates that paper, he will see jail time.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

DASH

I wake up with a pounding headache and a sore body. I groan as I roll over, giving my back to the bright light assaulting my sensitive eyes. Pounding. I lift my hands to my head and grip it tightly trying to quiet the pounding in my ears. “Shit,” I hiss as a sharp object digs into my side. I shift and reach to grab it when I feel the coldness of a longneck bottle. Without even opening my eyes, which feel like they are about to pop out of my head, I lift the bottle, unscrew the lid, and take a swig out of it.

My dumb ass almost chokes on it, considering I’m still lying down, so most of it dribbles down the side of my face when I cough it up. “Son...of a…bitch,” I try to say through another cough. I put the cap back on it and throw it to the end of the bed before I kick it completely off and onto the floor.

Then I pull my knees up to my chest and cuddle up to them as if I’m an infant. I got my ass handed to me last night just like I knew I would. At one point, I found myself running to the guest bathroom in the hallway. I fell to my knees and hugged the toilet for a good thirty minutes. When I finally got my legs to work, I walked out with squinted eyes. The room spun, and I couldn’t seem to stand up straight. I’m pretty sure I saw Jake kissing the redhead in the hallway who was with the blond guy in the kitchen. And Blake was lying face down passed out on the countertop in the kitchen with a bottle of Fireball in one hand and a Corona, his chaser, in the other. It was then when I found myself reaching for his bottle that I knew I needed to give in to defeat. I had lost. I was considerably fucking drunk and alone. So I dragged myself to bed with my tail tucked between my legs like a good little lap dog and passed the fuck out.

That had to have been only a couple of hours ago. I yawn and close my eyes tightly, allowing my body to fall asleep because this is all I plan to do today. I plan to sleep off everything that I drank last night. I just get back to sleep when I hear my bedroom door open and then a loud banging sound as it hits the wall.

“What the fuck…?” I growl as I sit up in bed and open my heavy eyes. The room sways, and I close my eyes for a few seconds to get my bearings straight. I see Blake run into my room. “Get the fuck out, dude. It’s too early.” God, even my words sound slurred. I reach up and rub some drool from my chin.

He grabs the remote off my nightstand and then plops down on the end of my bed as he turns my TV on. He seems to be moving pretty damn well for a man who was passed out on my parents’ countertop just hours ago. I sigh as I fall back down on my bed and place my pillow over my head. He was always that way. He could drink as much as he wanted and still make it to class or work the following morning. Me, not so much.

“What the fuck are you two doing in here?” I hear Jake’s voice ask as he enters as well.

“I’m trying to sleep. Go away. Both of you,” I mumble. I lick my lips just to see if they’re still attached. They feel numb.

I hear Blake flip through the channels and then I hear a woman’s voice… “The incident happened sometime last night…Mr. Knight of Knight Racing…Daughter…Tabatha….”

I sit up quickly and throw the pillow to the floor. “What the fuck is she saying?” I demand as I blink to try to get my hazy eyes to focus.

“Didn’t you go see Tabatha last night?” Blake demands as he turns to face me.

“Yeah…” My dry throat makes my voice squeak, and I wish I hadn’t thrown that bottle off my bed.

“See who?” Jake asks curious as he plops down beside me.

“She fucked him up. There was footage of him being taken out on a stretcher,” Blake says in surprise.

“Who? What are you talking about?” I ask, confused as shit. Am I dreaming this? I always have crazy dreams when I drink. I motion for the bottle on the floor like a child who reaches out for a bottle of milk. Jake reaches down and hands it to me without question. I pop the top and take another swig.

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