Page 112 of The Draft

“Later. Let’s enjoy our meal first.”

“Oh, I agree.” I took another bite and closed my eyes to savor the taste. “This is the best dish anyone has ever cooked for me.”

“Thanks,” he grumbled, chewing the risotto with little enthusiasm. What was wrong with the compliment? “It’s my mom’s recipe.”

Oh.

Keep it together. I didn’t know much about Dash’s mom, but I knew she passed away right before he moved to Connecticut, and that it was a topic he never talked about.

“Did she teach you to cook?” I asked as I took another bite, hoping that hid my nervousness about asking.

“Kind of,” he said quietly. “After she died, every Sunday, my dad and I would try to make one of her recipes.” He gestured to the handwritten note on the countertop in the kitchen. “Dad said it didn’t matter how hard we tried, it never tasted the same, but sometimes having the smells in the house made us feel like she was still around.”

My chewing slowed because that was the most heartbreaking sentence I’d ever heard. Dash usually hid his feelings, but he opened up so quickly about this. With me, no less. I felt this burning desire to go over and hug him, but I didn’t think he was done yet, and I wanted to give him the freedom to talk for once.

“She passed away right before I met Cade.” Dash didn’t look at me, he was just staring at his food as though it would have all the answers. “When I moved to Connecticut, it was for a fresh start, so I didn’t tell him about her at first.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want him to know. People change when they find out you’ve been hit with a tragedy. We ended up becomingthatfamily in our town. You know, the ones with the tragic story, and people are so thankful that it didn’t happen to them. I was treated as this poor little kid who would never grow up under a mother’s influence because mine got cancer. I wasthat story parents told their kids at night, reminding them to be grateful for what they had because poor Daniel Bridges just lost his mom.”

“Dash,” I breathed out, my heart feeling heavy.

He glanced up, his eyes dark and serious. “That was when I started hating people. No one understood me, and I couldn’t figure out how they didn’t get that. We just wanted to grieve on our own and not be reminded of our tragedy every day.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears threatened to fall, but I held them back because I didn’t want him to think I was just as bad as those people. I wasn’t upset over what happened to Dash, I was upset over the little kid that everyone seemed to forget was just that. A little kid.

“Don’t be. My dad and I moved to Connecticut for that very reason. We didn’t want people to feel sorry for us. We needed a fresh start.” There was a whisper of a smile on his face. “And Cade was that for me. I still remember the first day I met him. I was on the ice, trying to practice my skating because I was so slow, but I couldn’t catch a break because there were two older guys circling me. At one point, they tripped me up, and I was lying on the ice, ready to go home. But then brother glided over, knocked those two guys out like it was nothing, and then held his hand out to me. Once I was back on my skates, he berated me and told me I should get in the hockey net because that was the only way I was ever going to make it onto a hockey team.”

“What an idiot.”

“No. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. He was the first person to treat me like I was just any other kid, and I liked that the only reason he wanted to help me was because he wanted us to get into the NHL together. I never thought it would actually happen, but I guess his determination pushed me to want it too. I had no drive at that age, and my dad was busy with work or grieving. It was your parents that drove me to games and kept my life going while we tried to repair ours.”

I swallowed because the gravity of the situation started to take hold. This was the reason why he didn’t want to betray Cade. Their bond ran much deeper than I realized. Still staring at his risotto, I noticed the fork in his hand was shaking.

Instinctively, I pushed my chair out, walked over to him and sat on hislap. Dash’s breathing was slow and methodical as I brushed the hair out of his face. “I didn’t meet your mom, but I’m sure she would have been proud of the man that you’ve become. You’re dedicated, strong, determined, and you treat people right. I’ve never met someone I look up to more than you, and not just because you're ridiculously tall.”

He couldn’t look at me for a second, but when he did, I saw raw sadness in his eyes.

“You think?” He cracked a smile, trying to break the heaviness in the room.

“Definitely. You’re caring and focused, and when you care for someone, you put everything you can into making them happy.”

“Thanks.” He flicked his gaze down, taking a minute before looking back at me. “I think she’d like you too.”

“Really?” I said, cringing. I’d never met a boyfriend’s mother before, but I always figured I wouldn’t make a good impression. “I bet she’d think I talk too much.”

His smile grew wider, and those deep brown eyes of his started to lighten. “Nah. She’d like you. You make me smile.”

Resting a hand on my chest, I said dramatically, “I do?”

He chuckled and squeezed my thigh. “Yeah, I love the way you ramble.”

“Oh, thanks.” I sat up straight, trying really hard not to be offended because Dash had just spilled his guts out to me, but geez. Couldn’t I have gotten one compliment? Like he could have said my hair looked nice, or something, but rambling? No one wants to be told they ramble.

“Hey.” He kissed the side of my neck, drawing my attention back to him. “It’s a good thing. You make it so I don’t have to talk to people.”

“Oh, so, you like me talking?”

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