Page 29 of Eternally Devoted

“I was out today, picking up some stuff for dessert tonight, you know, after Goode’s Italian.”

Our dessert tonight.The plans I had in store—they all tumble by the wayside as tears cloud my vision. I bring my fingers to my eyes, rubbing, determined not to cry my way through the truth. Sterling’s solid hand strokes up and down my spine, and I notice now Dash is standing on my other side, leaning down, listening intently.

I swallow hard through the knot of humiliation and shame, and continue. “Anyway, on the way home from the market there was a man selling fresh strawberries on the side of the road. I mean, I have a berry guy for jam but I wasn’t going to see him for two more days, and I wanted to make you guys strawberry shortcake tonight.” I sniffle, remembering how they ate the entire dish the first time I made it, in one sitting. “Because you both love it, you know?”

Dash pats my hand and Sterling sweeps my wet hair off my shoulder, smoothing his palm down my arm. “We do,” he says softly, bobbing his head, urging quietly for me to continue.

“So I got out, and I asked him how much he wanted for a whole flat. He said twenty-two dollars, which is really not that great of a deal, like, at all. I told him that, then I started bargaining. I asked him if he’d take eighteen dollars instead. We went back and forth for a minute and finally, he said eighteen would work. I was getting cash from my wallet for a minute but when I found the twenty-dollar bill I was looking for, I turned around and…” I pause, my tongue feeling too big for my mouth at this part. Suddenly my head feels a little woozy. Sterling, always sensing what Dash and I need, brings a piece of toast to my lips.

“Bite,” he urges, his smoky rasp causing me to pull my legs together beneath the counter. I take a bite, the flavor ofBlueberry Sineasing my nerves a bit. This is my favorite flavor. And the familiarity is helping to already soothe me. “Sip,” he says, bringing my tea to my lips. After a sip, I wipe stray tearsfrom my cheeks, share a comforting glance between them, and continue.

“His thing was out, draped across the flat of strawberries. He said, ‘I’ll take the eighteen if you take this eight.’”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Dash grouses, pushing off the counter to run a hand through his hair. He looks like a million dollars when he’s in his uniform, but a messy Dash in jeans and a hoodie? Way hotter.

“Who the fuck was this guy?” Sterling groans, anger clouding his eyes, turning his chestnut gaze dark, brimming with rage. His knuckles curl, draining of color on top of the counter as his nostrils flare. Taking a deep breath, Sterl’s chest inflates as he struggles for self-control.

Dash slides onto a barstool, his normally sun-kissed skin now pale and sallow.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, stroking my hand over his cheek. I turn to Sterling, paler than usual, definitely in shock of some sort. I cup his cheek and turn his face, bringing our eyes together. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Sterling seethes, while tenderly wrapping one arm around my waist, sliding me onto his lap. I’ve never sat on his lap before, and I never imagined it being while talking about my secrets, but still, I’ve never felt so safe.

With his monstrous arms keeping me snug against him, Dash twists, aligning his knees with Sterling’s. He looks up at me, still pale but not defeated. In fact, he manages a partial smile as he looks up at Sterl. “You forgetting why we’re here? She already took care of that.”

“I don’t blame you, sweetheart,” Sterl says against my hair.

Dash’s face falls, as if reality is edging into his brain in small, manageable doses. “Wait—how did you kill him?”

Chewing my lip, I consider how this will sound aloud. I’ve never said the words out loud until earlier tonight, much lessgone into detail. But there is detail. And I’ve kept track of it all. But tonight is just about that: tonight. Andmaybethe guy from yesterday.

“Well, all I had on me was my economy jam jar. It was in my purse. I was on my way to Goode’s to deliver it—it’s their replenish jar. They refill the table jars with the one big one.” I use my hands to show them about the size of the jar. “Anyway, I knew it would work so I reached past my wallet, grabbed it and… clobbered him.”

The kitchen falls silent, and Dash loses his remaining color. From behind me, Sterling says, “What do you mean you knew it would work?”

I grip the counter and slide off, getting to my feet between them. “Because I killed a man on the ravine turnout up north yesterday using a jar of jam that size.” An awkward smile lifts the edge of my lips. “That’s where I got the yellow dog. I was driving by, doing deliveries. The man was beating the yellow dog, so I pulled over and ordered him to quit. He didn’t, and he cursed me out, so I saved the yellow dog. I had to.”

Dash’s eyes go distant, unfocused and a little hazy as he gets to his feet, too. So does Sterling—and just in time for him to catch a fainting Dash.

I hope I didn’t break him.

CHAPTER

TWELVE

THIS IS THE WEIRDEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE.

Dash

Mmm. Slowly easing into the day. That’s my favorite way. I’m usually startled awake by the stupid siren tone on my cell phone. I chose siren because I already hate it, which means it makes the perfect alarm.

This morning, though, is one of those rare mornings where I groggily come to consciousness with half a hard-on and what feels like the coziest spot in my bed.

Stretching my feet, I can’t quite find the curved edge of the mattress. Hmm. Must be close to the headboard then. Slowly, I reach above, connecting not with the wood headboard to my bed but?—

“He’s waking up,” Sterling declares as he lowers my hand—from his lap—back to my stomach.

Sterling is in my bed? I bring my fists to my eyes, urgently rubbing away the traces of sleep, eager to see what I somehow forgot.

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