“You’ve got a problem, and you need help. I want to make sure you get it. I’ve…I’m not losing somebody else I care about.”
That last part might have hit home if I wasn’t dealing with the shock and humiliation that came with realizing just what he thought about me. It wasn’t even really about the accusation of drug use or depression, but rather that I’d given so much of myself over to someone who knew so little about me.
“So…that’s a yes. You think I waltzed out into the ocean and tried to drown myself.”
He just stared at me, face impassive.
I got up, yet again, and wondered if I could possibly throw him out of my house. I doubted it. I felt too weak, too drained. My legs were trembling, for crying out loud. Easing out from between him and the ottoman, I went into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. He came along behind me, his eyes tracking every single move.
It wasn’t hard to figure out why.
He thought I was suicidal and into drugs.
Pulling out a can of soda, I popped open the tab and took a sip. It wasn’t until it hit my tongue that I realized how thirsty I was, and I ended up half-draining it. The carbonation burned my raw throat, but I didn’t care.
Once I no longer felt so parched, I opened the fridge again and pulled out one of those little plastic pudding cups. They were a weakness. I’d gotten hooked on them in college. My parents had never let me have junk food growing up, and once I’d been able to get it on my own, it had turned into an addiction.
Peeling back the top, I grabbed a spoon and ate the entire thing in a few bites. The gnawing ache in my belly eased, I finished off the soda, then tossed it into the recycler before getting a bottle of water. Better for hydration.
That done, I cut around Dash and went back into the living room.
“You can’t avoid talking about it, Astra.” He sat down across from me again, although this time, I’d angled myself so I was staring outside instead of at the fire.
He didn’t let that stop him.
“What happened earlier was probably a call for help, and that’s not a bad thing. I – hey!”
I shouldn’t have thrown the water at him. It was still half-full, or it had been, and now we were both wearing it since I’d already had the cap off the bottle, but hearing him refer to my near-drowning as a call for help just pushed me over the edge. It might’ve been an error in judgment – okay, it had been that – but it definitely hadn’t been an attempt to end my life.
“You arrogant son of a bitch!” Energized now by anger and having something in my stomach, I clambered out of the chair and moved into the middle of the living room. “It wasn’t a call for help! I wanted to go swimming so I could cool off and think! I didn’t know the water was that rough!”
Drops of water rolled down his face as he stood up, facing me. “Astra–”
“Don’t you talk to me in that patronizing tone of voice,” I said, my voice shaking as I jabbed my finger at him. I was so mad, I could punch him. I wanted to. But his head was so thick, I’d probably break a hand, and I’d done myself enough damage for the day, thank you very much. “I did not try to drown myself, you jackass!”
This time, his eyelids flickered, but as if he’d half-expected me to argue, he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders – I watched as he literally squared his shoulders, like a man going into battle.
“Astra.” He came toward me, warily.
Smart man. He better be wary. I narrowed my eyes.
“Look, a lot of people who suffer from depression use drugs. And sometimes, it seems like there’s only one escape from it all.” He held out a hand. “But you know better than that. You have to. You were trying to get back to shore, and when I got to you, you held on.”
“That’s because I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”
He turned away and started to pace, making me wonder if he’d even heard me. My voice was nothing more than a rasp now.
“I’m not losing somebody else I love to this, Astra. We’re going to get you help.”
Frustrated, I grabbed a pillow from the couch. Some part of me heard everything he said, but the bigger part of me heard only one thing.
We’re going to get you help.
I hurled the pillow at him. Softball, all-state. Two years in a row. It hit him square in the back of his head, and he turned to stare at me.
“I. Wasn’t. Trying. To. Kill. Myself,” I said slowly, spacing the words out. “Got it?” I dropped down onto the couch and grabbed the remaining pillow, hugging it to my chest. “Oh, and I don’t do drugs either, not that you even bothered to be a normal fucking boyfriend and actually ask what was going on. So just leave me alone and go back to your fucking high horse.”
38
Dash
I just told her I loved her. I told her I wanted to get help. I’d been prepared for her to cry when I told her that I’d help her. That was…or, well, it should be typical.
She’d thrown a pillow at me.
And a bottle of water. It was still dripping down my neck from where some of it had gotten into my hair.
Leave me alone.
I couldn’t do that. She didn’t understand.
Taking a step toward her, I floundered, trying to figure out where to go next.
Astra’s eyes come up to meet mine, and this time, they weren’t dazed. That wounded look I’d glimpsed earlier was gone too. Now, they glinted with steely resolve, and she said again, “Leave me alone.”
“I…Astra, I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can.” She gestured to the door. “The door is right there.”
This wasn’t going the way I’d planned. “Look…”
“No!” She flung the pillow away – not at me, this time. She struggled upright and swayed a bit before steadying. “I’m tired. My entire body hurts, and I’m starving. I want to eat a whole bowl of ice cream – maybe two – and then I want to curl up in bed and forget all about this – all about you!”
That hit home hard. I flinched, unable to stop it. “I’m just trying to help, Astra.”
“You did. You pulled me out of the water, and I appreciate it.” Her lower lip trembled before she pressed her lips tightly together and looked away. “But you’re not hearing me. I wasn’t trying to kill myself, and I don’t do drugs, so your little intervention here isn’t needed, and it’s just…” Her voice broke. “It’s just making me sad.”
Nothing could have smacked me in the face harder than those last three words.
So bluntly spoken.
She flapped a hand at me and said, “So would you just…go?”
As she moved back toward the kitchen, her movements awkward and lacking her natural grace, I turned and watched, my head churning. Was she…but…
“I saw you,” I said without thinking it through. “You and Turk. You gave him drugs.”
She paused for a moment, then just shook her head, and kept on walking.
This time, I followed her, determined to know. I needed to know.
She was in the kitchen, staring listlessly into the freezer, and I watched as she pulled out a small carton of ice cream. “What?” she asked, voice dull.
“I saw you.”
She wrenched off the carton’s lid and threw it down, moving over to the counter and picking up the spoon she’d used earlier for her pudding. She stabbed into the ice cream like she was picturing using it on me. But she didn’t respond.
I stayed quiet while she ate a few bites. I should have made her eat something earlier. She had to be drained. All that adrenaline she’d burned off, trying to swim to shore. I should have told her about the riptides.
“Why are you still here?” She thumped the ice cream carton on the counter, and I looked up to see her licking the spoon. Her eyes were vivid and hot as she glared at me.
“Astra…”
“If you tell me you ‘saw me’ one more time…” She waved the spoon at me threateningly, then abruptly turned and threw it into the sink. Metal clan
ged against metal, jarringly loud.
As she stalked over to the long counter that served as a breakfast nook, I eased closer, trying to make out what she was muttering to herself.
She grabbed her purse.
“Look, can we maybe stop with the throwing–”
She turned on her heel, holding something in her hand. It was one of those little bags you’d get from a gourmet coffee store, and she was staring at me with near-lethal intent. But she couldn’t do much damage with that. If it would make her feel better…okay. Maybe I owed her, especially if she hadn’t been trying to hurt herself earlier.
I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off.
“I’ve had migraines and tension headaches for years. I try to avoid taking medicine for it, because most medication, other than Tylenol, hits me weird.” She gave me a sharp smile. “You probably noticed I’m fairly…active. My parents had me tested when I was eight. I’ve got ADHD to the max, but we found out fairly early on that I couldn’t take any medication for it. Bad side effects. There was only one that didn’t make me feel like I was a robot, but I ended up developing an allergy to it. I can’t even take cold medicine. I don’t know what it is. The one medicine I can take for my migraines usually knocks me out, so I found other ways to deal when sleeping wasn’t an option.”
She tossed that bag she held from one hand to the other.
“A couple of years ago, this lady in a holistic medicine store recommended I try a blend of tea. It’s an old-style remedy, been used for centuries. And it worked. No side effects and it doesn’t even taste bad. I even found a store here that sells it.” She lobbed the bag at me. “Catch.”
I did, my hands feeling strangely awkward as I started to put things together. I looked down and realized that I recognized the logo printed on the bag.
“This is by Didi’s work,” I said.
“Wow. You really are as smart as people say. Now get out!”
Her voice cracked, and I looked from the bag to her. There were tears gleaming in her eyes now.
Nothing could have driven it home harder than that.
I really was a jackass.
But I sure as hell wasn’t leaving. Not without trying to explain.
“Two years ago, I came home and found my fiancée in our bed, unconscious. She was an addict.” The words came out of me without any conscious thought. I just knew that I had to fix this. “There was a suicide note. We’d had a fight the night before and…” I stopped for a minute as the words crammed up in my throat, not wanting to come out. I forced them forward. “We had a fight. She overdosed. I got her to the hospital, but it was too late. She slipped into a coma and died two days later.”
39
Astra
Those words were still ringing in my ears five minutes later as I sat at the breakfast nook and sipped on scotch so strong, it burned my throat.
I didn’t care.
I might drink half the bottle.
Dash sat across from me.
I hadn’t offered him any.
He didn’t ask, either.
“You know, some people after being an ass might say, hey, I’m sorry.” I sipped more of the scotch then put the glass down. “Instead, you go and tell me A) you had a fiancée. B) She killed herself. C) She was a drug addict. D) You feel so guilty about it you built a shrine in her name.”
“I didn’t build a shrine.”
“What’s the clinic?” I challenged him.
“It’s…” He stopped and sighed, looking away. “It’s not a shrine. It’s…an apology. I should have done more for her.”
“You can’t help somebody who isn’t ready to accept help.” I felt awful for him, but knowing all of this now…well, it made sense. He’d pushed so hard to get the clinic up and going, he’d been like a man on a mission.
And I guessed that’s what he was.
It even made sense how he backed away every time I thought he was ready to admit he was attracted to me.
He’d felt guilty.
“What was her name?”
He glanced up at me. “Layla.”
“It’s a pretty name.”
He nodded, then in a gruff voice, he added, “She was…beautiful. But too…soft, I guess. Every time life kicked her, she turned to drugs instead of trying to fight. I thought I could do the fighting for her.”
“And it doesn’t work that way.” I nodded and sipped my scotch again. It was actually doing more to numb my throat now. I appreciated that. “I think I kind of get it. You’re still a jerk, but I kind of get it.”
Something that looked like relief broke out over his face, but I didn’t look at him for long, sliding off the stool and going back to refill my scotch. I was going to take it, and myself, off to bed. “Trust probably comes hard for you now. That’s something you should work on.”
I had to drag myself upstairs, and the trek was so exhausting, I stopped halfway up just to breathe. Near-drowning. Who knew it could be such an intense workout?
Forcing myself to keep going, I made it into my room and sank down onto the bed, putting the scotch down only after I’d had another healthy swallow.
I was wearing a thick t-shirt – not mine. I had no idea where it had come from, but it smelled like Dash. I should take it off. Instead, I sniffed and tucked my face against my sleeve as I snuggled into the covers.
Damn him.
My eyes drifted shut.
Something niggled at my memory, and just as sleep tried to sneak up and grab me, I remembered.
“He said he loved me,” I whispered into the pillow.
“Yeah. I did.”
I yelped – again. “Would you stop scaring me to death!” Flopping around, I saw him sitting sprawled in the chair by the door. At least I saw his outline. “What are you doing here?”
“You pretty much just answered that question.”
“Scaring me to death?” I sat up, waiting for my heart to stop trying to burst through my chest.
“No. Before that.”
“Before…oh.” Heat flooded my cheeks, and I looked away, even though neither of us could see each other clearly. “Dash–”
“You feel something for me. I know it.”
“It doesn’t matter if I do or not.”
The bed squeaked as he sat down next to me, forcing me to meet his gaze. And I was too tired to fight him. Way too tired. I just needed this to be done.
“Why doesn’t it matter?”
“Because you’re so wrapped up in guilt over Layla, you’re letting it spill over onto us. We’ll never work out if you don’t trust me.”
He lifted a hand, cupping my face. “I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
I wanted to believe that. I desperately wanted to believe that.
“How do I know that? How do you know that?”
“Because…” His voice hitched. “Because being with you is the only thing that has made me happy in years. Even before Layla died, I wasn’t happy. You changed all of that, Astra. I don’t want to lose you. Please.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine.
Closing my eyes, I told myself to be smart.
To think this through.
After all, the last time I’d done something stupid, I ended up in water way, way over my head.
But...
My throat closed up, and I dropped my head onto his shoulder. “How do I know I can trust you now?”
“Because I’m going to spend the rest of our lives proving that you can.” He kissed me behind the ear and pulled me up onto his lap. “Just give me the chance, Astra. Please, darling. Give me a chance.”
I woke to heated bliss.
Dash’s hands gripped my waist as he pressed his mouth between my legs.
I was already trembling on the verge of climax, and I’d just opened my eyes.
Whimpering, I slid my hands down and buried my fingers in his hair, arching up against his mouth. He licked me again, then stabbed at my clitoris with his tongue.
That was
…
“Ohhh…”
“You’re awake.” He sounded amused.
“Ummm.”
He climbed up my body and stretched out between my thighs, eyes locking with mine.
“Should I stop?”
The question caught me off-guard, the climax that had been so close a few seconds ago withdrawing as I tried to make sense of his words. Then, like somebody had turned on the switch inside my head, I understood.
I’d gone to sleep in his arms, and he’d simply held me. And I hadn’t given him an answer last night. An answer or a response to him telling me that he loved me.
“That’s a dirty trick, pal,” I murmured, but I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.
His eyes searched my face, but he didn’t say anything, lowering his mouth to mine, kissing me softly. Sweetly. And then he slid inside me. Each slow thrust, each caress, every touch was a slow seduction, and I moaned out his name as he made love to me.
And that’s what it was. Making love. Not fucking. Not even just sex. Because I did love him, and he loved me.
His teeth scraped down my neck, and I caught his head, running my fingers through his hair as his mouth worked at my skin. Flames of desire licked at my skin, coiled in my belly. But not fast enough.
“Please,” I begged.
But still, he didn’t rush.
Instead, he pushed back up onto his heels and pulled me up, moving us until I was sitting astride him, our bodies joined together more closely than they’d ever been before. He rocked against me with maddening slowness, his eyes stroking over me, taking me in as though he was trying to memorize everything. One hand moved under the shirt I was still wearing, fingers finding my already hard nipple and lightly rolling it.
Clamping my inner muscles down on him, I watched him from under my lashes, and he reacted with a shudder that affected his entire body.
I did it again, and again, his fingers tightening into a near-painful pinch. I moaned at the sensation, then kissed him, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth before biting it. Not hard. Just enough to make him curse.