“STILL NO WORD FROM DARE?” I ask Cordell and Matty. After dropping Jess off, I went straight to the shop, thinking Dare would be there early, like usual. I waited around for a while, but he never showed, so I went back home to see if he was there. No luck.
I didn’t think much of it. I told myself he’d show up when the shop opened, because I knew he had a twelve o’clock appointment. He never misses an appointment. But it’s now almost dark. His clients have come and gone, and still, no sign of Dare.
“Not since last night,” Matty answers, looking perplexed.
A knowing look passes over Cord’s face.
“What do you know?” I ask as unease pricks the back of my neck.
“I don’t know where he is,” he hedges.
“But…?”
“But this time of year, he always goes a little…quiet.” He’s being intentionally cryptic, and what started out as mild concern is quickly morphing into full-blown panic.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you should talk to him,” he says curtly, but his tone also has a hint of softness. I get the feeling that he wants to tell me, but his loyalty to Dare won’t allow it.
Just when I’m about to go check his spot in the pine trees, I hear the back door open. Three sets of eyes snap to the back room in time to see Dare staggering inside, leaving the door open behind him.
“Fuck,” Cord mutters under his breath.
“Is he…drunk?” I wonder out loud, as my heart starts hammering in my chest.
My phone rings, and I’m about to throw the damn thing against the wall when I see Private Caller. Again. I quickly answer, too angry to keep letting this go on. “Don’t fucking call me again or I’m filing a restraining order on you like I should’ve done months ago.” I hang up the phone, in a hurry to get to Dare, but it buzzes in my hand with a text a second later.
Eric: A piece of paper isn’t going to keep me away from you.
I shove my phone into my back pocket, too worried about Dare to wonder if Eric’s threats are empty. Cordell seems to be on the phone, whispering quietly to someone. Matty gives me a nod of encouragement before he follows me to the back of the shop. He stops in the doorway, letting me know he’s there if I need him, but I’m not worried about me.
I find Dare in the drawing room, sitting at his desk, disheveled black hair has fallen in front of his eyes. “Is my client here?” His voice sounds like he’s swallowed glass, and he smells like whiskey.
“You missed all your appointments,” I say softly, and some instinct has me walking toward him as if I’m approaching a wild animal. “Where were you?”
He finally looks up at me, his icy eyes bloodshot and broken as he gives me a cold, dead stare. “You should leave.”
My throat feels thick and my stomach rolls at his words.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, afraid to hear his answer.
I move closer, but I pause when he yells, “Just go home, Logan!”
I stand, frozen in a mixture of shock and sadness, but something in the back of my mind whispers that I knew this would happen. I knew it was too good to be true. I just don’t know why.
“We both knew this wasn’t going to last,” he says, echoing my thoughts, his voice lower but no less detached.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I guess we did. But you’re clearly fucked up, and I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.” Dare has employed me, protected me, sheltered me, and loved me even when I fought it. Even if this is the end for us, I’m not walking away from him.
I grab the first aid kit off the supply shelf behind me before walking over to where Dare sits, dropping to my knees in front of him. His knuckles are bloody and appear to have pieces of bark protruding from the torn skin. He doesn’t object when I take his hand in mine.
“So you were in the woods,” I say, more to myself, as I pull the splinters of bark out and clean the cuts with an antiseptic wipe. His elbows rest on his knees, hands hanging down as I work. He doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t even look at me.
Once I finish, I sit with my palms on top of my thighs, waiting for him to say something—anything. I can’t see his eyes with the way his hair falls in front of them, and I have the urge to brush the inky black strands away. Using one finger, I do just that, and his scowl deepens, eyes clenching shut, almost as if my touch causes him physical pain.
“What happened to you?” I try once more. Yesterday, I had a boyfriend who would move mountains for me. Who couldn’t keep his hands off me. Today, he doesn’t even want me near him.
Dare stands abruptly, his chair rolling into the wall behind him, then storms out of the drawing room without a word. I stand and walk back into the main room. Cord has Dare by the shoulders, trying to get him to focus on what he’s saying, and I’m surprised to see Asher and Camden, Cordell’s brother, coming toward me.
“Give me a few. I’m going to take him next door. Get some coffee into his drunk ass and see if I can figure out what the fuck is going on,” Asher says, his tone brusque.
I nod, sliding my hands into my front pockets. Camden gives my shoulder a squeeze with his tattooed hand.
“He’ll be all right,” he says knowingly. “We all have our shit. Believe me, this has been a long time coming.”
Asher seems to be about as confused as I am, throwing a questioning look at Camden.
“I’ll be here,” I say, biting the tip of my thumbnail.
Cord, Camden, Asher, and Dare all head out, leaving me with Matty. Dare looks over his shoulder at me, and the tormented look in his eyes crushes me. How do you fix someone when they won’t tell you what’s broken? As soon as they’re out the door, I cover my face with my hands, and Matty pulls me into his arms. I let him hug me for a minute before stepping away. I don’t want to cry right now.
I pace back and forth by the cork board on the wall, full of flyers and pictures—including the ones of Dare and I from Halloween—for what seems like hours. In reality, only twenty minutes have passed. Done with waiting, I decide to go check on Dare.
“I’ll be right back,” I say to Matty as I push open the door. I’m halfway between Bad Intentions and Blackbear when I hear my name called from somewhere to the right. I look over to find Eric prowling toward me.
“Not now.” I sigh, unable to deal with any more drama.
“Hear me out,” he says, pulling out a manila folder. I’m skeptical, but for some reason, I don’t walk away like I know I should. Somehow, I know that whatever is in his hands is about to change everything.
“I told you to stay away from me.”
“I just thought you should know the kind of scum you’re shacking up with.”
“I don’t care what you think you know,” I seethe, getting into his space. I’m so sick of Eric fucking with my life. “Dare is a good person, which is more than I can say of you.”
“Highly doubt that, considering he’s a murderer.” Eric chuckles darkly, opening the folder. He holds it out in front of me, and I snatch it from his hands. There are several articles in here, but on the first page, I see a headline in bold letters with a picture of a young Dare below.
Teen suspected of killing foster brother.
I slowly turn my head toward Blackbear, my eyes finding Dare almost instantly. As if he senses me, he looks up and we lock eyes. The folder slips out of my grasp, papers fluttering to the sidewalk around me. Dare’s eyes widen, and when they land on Eric, they narrow into slits.
I don’t believe it. Not for a second. Not even with the murderous expression on his face right now.
“It’s amazing what you can find on the internet,” Eric says smugly. I’m still looking at Dare as he stands when something inside me snaps. I curl my fingers into a fist and launch it into the side of Eric’s face. Shock replaces his cocky smile.
“Fuck you, Eric.”
Eric’s hand darts out, wrapping around my throat, and then I’m slammed against the wall behind me, only my tiptoes touching the ground.
“Your boyfriends aren’t here to help you this time, Logan,” he taunts, and I swing my foot forward to kick him in the balls. He jumps away, but not fast enough.
“Fuck!” he screams, and then his fist is coming straight for my face. My head cracks against the wall behind me, and I feel dazed for a few seconds before the pain sets in, causing me to cry out.
“Look what you made me do!” he yells back, and from the corner of my eye I see the door to Blackbear open, then Eric is gone. I sink down the wall, but Dare scoops me up, holding me in his arms as Cordell, Camden, and Asher pin Eric to the pavement.
“Lo, are you okay?” Dare asks, tipping my chin up. My face feels wet, and I bring my hand to my nose only to realize it’s blood. That son of a bitch.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” I say again, this time firmer. It hurts, but I’m more angry than anything.
“Cord!” Dare yells and Cordell, not needing further instruction, walks away from Eric and over to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. Dare moves toward Eric and sends a boot into his side. Eric jerks and moans, bringing his knees to his chest.
“Dare!” I yell. It’s not worth it. Eric is not worth it.
“Take her inside,” Dare orders, pointing a finger at me.
“Come on, Lo. Let’s get you cleaned up,” Cord says, guiding me inside.
“Cord, no,” I say, digging in my heels.
“It’s okay,” he assures me. “Asher won’t let him go too far.”
Reluctantly, I let him guide me away. Once inside, Matty walks out of the bathroom, his eyes bulging.
“The fuck!” he yells, jaw hardening as he marches toward me.
“The suit is back,” Cordell informs him.
“I should’ve gone with you.” Matty says, guilt painting his features.
“It’s a bloody nose, Matty. I’m not dying.” I try to laugh to make him feel better, but it sounds fake to my own ears.
I make my way over to the clean myself up in bathroom, ignoring the pain in my throat and face, but the door dings, and I whip around. Only it’s not Dare. It’s Jake. And he has one of the crumpled articles in his hands.
“Cops are here,” he says, and I rush toward the front, but Jake blocks my way.
“Jake, move,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I just need to say something.” His eyes are pleading with me.
I don’t respond, and he takes it as permission to continue.
“I’m not Dare’s biggest fan. In fact, I’ve spent a lot of years hating him.”
“Yeah, I’d say that was pretty clear,” I deadpan, trying to move past him, but he blocks me again.
“But this?” He holds up the article covered in shoeprints. “This isn’t how it went down. His foster brother was my best friend, and while I blame him, it was an accident.”
I give him a terse nod. He’s telling me what I already know to be true.
“Anyway, I told the cops that he was defending you.”
“Thanks,” I say, and when I go for the door again, he moves out of the way.
I walk out just in time to see Dare being led toward the flashing blue and red lights down the street in handcuffs and Eric being shoved into the back of a separate car.
I run up to the one handling Dare. “Excuse me, officer?”
“Yes, ma’am?” he asks, turning to face me, his expression morphing from mildly irritated to concerned when he sees the state of me.
“I’d like to press charges.”