I open my mouth to reply, but already he’s standing, and shutting me inside the car. He slides in beside me and says, “Rev her up and let’s see how she drives.”
Obviously, he doesn’t want to talk about why I might leave him. He wants me to let this go. And so, I do. For now. I let it go. But I’m not letting him go. I’ve learned something about Dash tonight, something I already knew but let myself forget. He goes and encourages people to beat him up in the ring because he hates himself. And I don’t know why. Not yet. And I don’t think he wants me to know why.
CHAPTER FORTY
My mother greets us at the door and we’ve barely stepped into the hallway when she flings her arms around Dash. “Thank you. I know what you did, Dash Black. Thank you.” And then she bursts into tears. “You have no idea the pressure we were feeling and I didn’t want to tell Allie. I didn’t want to worry her.” She looks up at Dash with absolute gratitude beaming from her eyes. “And don’t tell me it wasn’t you. The only other person in my life with money is my ex, and he would never help me.”
“Well, I will,” Dash promises her. “Always.”
“I can’t believe he did this,” my mother says, hugging me now. “How did he know?”
Dash and my stepfather have moved down the hallway now toward the kitchen. “He saw some bills when he was here. He did this for you before he told me. And he didn’t want the credit. He just wanted to help.”
“My God, Allie. I’ve never known someone so generous and kind.”
“Funny, but that’s not how he sees himself at all.”
“Well, then he needs you to change that. You know that, right?”
“Yes, Mom. I do. Very much.”
We join the men in the kitchen, and Dash slides an arm around me. For the next hour, we laugh and chat, and my mother goes nuts over Dash’s TV news. “What about Henry Cavill as Ghost?” she suggests.
“She wants Henry Cavill to be in everything,” my stepfather says dryly.
“And you want Kate Beckinsale.”
Dash and I laugh at their exchange, and he good-naturedly plays along with their casting suggestions.
It’s a good evening and when Dash and I step outside, I want more than anything to tell him how much I love him. But I don’t want him to think it’s an emotional response to my mother’s emotional response. So I don’t tell him. Not now.
“Can you drive?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says, walking me to the passenger side of the car.
He opens my door and I step into him. “She says you’re the most generous, kind person she’s ever known.”
“And what did you say?”
“That you don’t see yourself that way.”
“How do you think I see myself, Allie?”
“Broken like me.”
There is something jagged and dark that flickers in his eyes. “Broken, but not like you. Let’s go home.”
I climb inside the car, and I know that all of his broken pieces, and mine, too, want to cut us. I don’t want to let that happen. I just don’t know if it can be stopped. It’s as if we’re glued together, perhaps by each other, but it’s only so long until we shatter.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The next few days, Dash and I start forming little habits together. When we workout, who makes the coffee—me, usually—and a meetup for lunch, which for now, is at the bookstore, which seems to be his best writing location. Meanwhile, I start feeling like the auction is coming together. It’s on the evening before Dash and I leave for New York, that I step onto the elevator to find myself alone with Tyler’s father.
“Mr. Hawk,” I say, surprised to find him here and I don’t know why. He’s the center of everything here at Hawk Legal. “How are you?” I ask, out of a lack of any more brilliant conversation piece.
“Jack,” he corrects, turning to face me as I follow his lead and do the same of him.
That’s when I really look at him, his piercing gray eyes intimidatingly observant. Not to mention, it really is astounding how much he looks like Tyler—tall, athletic, and good-looking, though there is something about Hawk senior that is calculating in a way I do not read from Tyler. Hence the intimidating observant eyes.
“Jack,” I amend.
“Better,” he approves. “And as to the question, how am I? I’m quite wonderful, thank you. How are you? I hear you’re making us look good with this charity auction.”
He’s heard. From Tyler, I assume, which is curious. The two of them don’t exactly get along, so I wonder how any conversation between them goes anyplace but badly. “I’m certainly trying,” I say. “I’m headed to New York to coordinate the appraisals of the auction items tomorrow actually.”