Page 143 of Forbidden Hockey
God, that rips my fucking heart open. It’s not him I don’t trust. I kiss the top of his head. “I trust you, I just?—”
“No, no buts. You trust me or you don’t.”
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“To me it is.”
“Fine, I’ll trust you, but no more hiding this from me, or hyper vigilant mode gets engaged. I won’t even be able to help it, Dash.”
“Fair. I’m not gonna leave Stacey’s sight, okay?”
Wish he wouldn’t leave mine either. I nod, not trusting my voice. He finishes buttoning the shirt.
“You cool if we go?”
“Yeah,” I mutter. Except I’m not, but he’s a married man now, which apparently means I’m not welcome in this discussion. Not really. I can tell when I’m being humored.
They leave quietly, as if they’re trying not to alert the big lion to their presence. The door clicks behind them. I down the rest of my beer and dig for the emergency cigarette pack hidden at the back of my kitchen drawer.
Gone. Dirk. Fuck.
Alright, so I’ve got to resort to my emergency-emergency pack hidden under the mattress.
Also gone.
I don’t give up, checking my last two hiding spots, wondering why I have so many damn hiding spots. Maybe ‘cause I knew one beautiful man would find them all and desecrate them. When I get to the last spot, the box is still there, but there are only two lone cigarettes inside with a note.
If you get to this box, I know it’s bad, and you fucking need one, maybe two. Please, please, come talk to me about it? I fucking love you.
Right. Talking. Guess I should. It’s the mature thing to do, but I don’t know what to say. I’m running on instinct right now. Can’t stop picturing Dash’s arms. I’ve entered a fog of violence and can’t quench the thirst for vengeance.
Leaning against the balcony rail, I suck back tar, letting the nicotine rush hit me. Maybe ironically, I also breathe in the fresh air as deeply as I can. They swirl together within me and manufacture a brittle calm. But the shaking, nothing I do stops the shaking.
My phone pings.
Dirk
Sorry, baby. I have to bail. Long story, but Hunt wants to do a camping trip. We leave tonight. Couldn’t say no. Also, maybe don’t respond? I’ll be with him.
My gut twists, and the words blur.
Not first place, just like with my son. Why would I be? I don’t deserve it.
And I can’t help comparing Hunter and Dirk to me and Dash. Dirk has so much love and respect for his brother, he’s concerned about him. Cares about what he thinks and feels. Of course, he would. Hunter is a better dad than I ever was or will be. Dash made sure to keep me out of his struggle with Robin. As he should. I did a shit job of helping him the first time around—Stacey gets the medal for that one.
It was so fucking stupid, thinking I could make up for the years I lost with Dash through being a grampa, or by gettinga dumbass tattoo. There is no making up for it, but there’s something I can do.
I have the power to give Dash his safe era.
And Dirk, I know he doesn’t like what I want to do to Robin, because of what it could mean for me, but he also said I didn’t have to choose. That means we’ll survive it, right? Just a bump in the road for us.
Dash is my only damn kid, and I’ll die to protect him. Or risk going to jail, I guess. Dirk will come around. He’d want Dash to feel safe. Besides, if I can’t keep my own kid safe, I don’t deserve a man like Dirk—he deserves the best of everything.
Stamping out my cigarette and wiping away the lone tear squiggling down my cheek, I pull out my phone.
Me
Maxwell, you down for another spa day?
