Spring Secrets - Allie Boniface Page 0,54
Edie all on yer own, man.”
Yes. He had. And he’d been paying for it ever since. A thousand thoughts coursed through Dash’s mind, regret and anger and a kind of weird loss, too. He’d been so stupid to trust Al. So stupid to trust anyone. “Get out of here,” Dash finally said. “You make me sick.”
He turned away, done with the conversation, but apparently Al wasn’t, because he punched Dash in the kidney before he’d reached the top of the short flight of stairs. Pain shot through his back, and he staggered. “What the—” Another punch. This one took him almost to his knees.
With a roar, Dash righted himself. Red blurred his vision, and he swung out with both fists. You ruined everything, he thought as he made contact. Once. Then again. Al connected a single punch, and Dash’s right cheek exploded in a pinwheel of pain. Bone splintered and drops of blood sprayed both their shirt fronts. He wanted to stop. He couldn’t stop. Every heartache from the last decade pulsed through his clenched hands, every wrong he’d suffered and every mistake he’d made. He hit Al again. And then again.
Someone shouted from across the parking lot, and finally Dash dropped his arms to his sides. He touched his cheek, and his hand came away red. Al crouched on the pavement a few feet away, holding his face. Blood poured from between his fingers.
What have I done?
Dash gulped in a few breaths of air. His heart pounded out of his chest, and he laced his hands behind his head. Finally he looked over to see Mac and Damian standing a few feet away. They stared at him, silent. He wiped his face with his sleeve and then took Al’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “You tell anyone about this, and I’ll call the cops so fast you won’t have time to hide your stash.” His hands trembled. In the blink of an eye he’d returned to the punk he’d been years ago, fighting, cursing, letting someone else get the better of his temper. He swallowed back bile and hated himself.
Al staggered away without another word.
“You okay, man?” Mac asked.
“Yeah.” Dash wiped his face again and tasted blood. He couldn’t look either of them in the eye. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, cracked and bleeding. “Tell Hans I went home, would ya?”
“Sure thing.”
He could feel their eyes on him as he climbed into his truck. Dash dropped his head onto the steering wheel and squeezed back tears of frustration. One moment of weakness and he’d flushed the last eighteen months down the drain. What if Al decided to report the fight? It wasn’t likely, but he might. He wasn’t sober and sure wasn’t making rational decisions. Assault would violate his parole, Dash was pretty sure. And then he’d lose everything he’d worked so hard for.
He drove straight home and took a long shower. He didn’t want to be that guy anymore. He’d come back to Whispering Pines wanting to leave that guy far behind him. He closed his eyes and rinsed under the spray. Tiny spots of Al’s blood covered one wrist, and he rubbed them until the skin went raw.
When the water cooled, he toweled off but left the house dark. He’d tried so hard. He’d toed the line, made amends, spent time with his mom, focused on the sunny days and not the dark ones. He’d learned from the past. Built a business. Repaired old friendships. And then Sienna had walked into his gym. She’d changed him, she and her students. Somehow, over half-hour training sessions and a handful of dinners and reading kids’ books, he’d become different. Happier. Less high-strung and more at ease in his skin. He sank into his recliner and stared into the cold ashes of the fireplace.
He wanted to keep getting better, stay on the upward trajectory. He wanted to be proud of the way he spent his days. Most of all, he wanted to hold onto the feeling of deep-down happiness he’d discovered over the last three months. He folded his fingers together and stared at them.
I have to tell her. Sienna deserved to know his past. But his stomach churned at the thought. How could he tell her? A prison record? A backlot brawl? She wouldn’t want to give him the time of day. Nor would he blame her. She deserves so much better than anything I have to offer.
He picked up his phone. Put it