Spring Secrets - Allie Boniface Page 0,59

container of chicken noodle soup, thick with pasta and chunks of meat that made his mouth water. Under that was a container of tomato soup, and then one more of chicken noodle. She’d tucked a sleeve of crackers down beside them, too. Dash rubbed his jaw. Didn’t hurt quite as much as it had a couple days ago. He checked his reflection in the darkened kitchen window. Looked like maybe the swelling around his eye had gone down, too.

He sat down and ate an entire bowl of soup and most of the crackers. I am not like Al Halloran. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. So he’d lost his temper. It happened. Probably would again. But he didn’t have to let it control him. He closed his eyes and savored the spices on his tongue. Sienna didn’t know him as a lousy punk who’d broken the law. She thought he was a decent guy who owned a gym and taught self-defense classes and read to kids on Friday afternoons. So he’d try to be that guy. He’d try every day, even if he slipped up once in a while.

Thanks 4 the soup, he texted when he finished. It’s delicious.

Feeling better?

A little. He still didn’t have any intention of letting her see his face, not until the bruises had faded. Think I need to rest this week, he added. OK if we don’t work out?

She took a few minutes to respond, and he imagined she was probably wondering what kind of superbug could keep him down for longer than a day or two. Sure, she finally answered. Let me know when you’re feeling up to it.

SIENNA DIDN’T SEE DASH all week. She stopped at the gym after work on Tuesday and Thursday, hopeful that whatever illness he’d caught had passed, but Hans only shook his head when she asked.

“He’s been coming in, mornings,” Hans said when she pressed him. “But he’s gone by one or two. Says he’s not feeling too good.”

So she ran on the treadmill and lifted weights and sent him a couple texts so he knew she was diligently working out. He answered both times, with smiley emojis and comments like Looking good and I knew you could. But she missed him. She missed seeing him, talking to him, watching him read to her kids at school. Telling Caleb and the others he wouldn’t be coming on Friday almost broke her heart.

“Is he okay?” Billy asked in a worried voice.

Bailey pulled at his bottom lip, a tell-tale sign of tears about to start. Caleb tapped his fingers on the table so hard she thought he might bruise the tips. She finally took them outside for an extra hour of recess rather than try to do read-along without Dash. But as soon as the buses pulled away, she sent him a text.

My mom’s making dinner tonight for a small army. She didn’t technically know if that was true, but she’d hedge her bets. No way her parents would be going out two Friday nights in a row. Want to come over?

She kept one eye on her phone and the other on the parking lot, just in case Jason was up at the high school for another after-school club meeting.

Love to. What time?

Sienna’s heart jumped. She hadn’t expected him to say yes. She’d half-expected him not to answer at all. He must be feeling better.

6, she typed with a smile. See u then.

DASH PULLED UP OUTSIDE the Cruz’s house at five minutes to six. Checked his reflection in the rear view mirror and hoped he looked presentable. It wasn’t a date or anything, he knew that, but he liked Sienna’s parents. He’d only met them twice before, but he wanted to make a decent impression.

He raised one hand to knock, but the door opened before he could. An older, shorter version of Sienna greeted him with a smile. “Dash! We’re so glad you could join us. I’m sure Sienna’s told you I always cook way too much food for just the four of us. I hope you’re hungry.” She motioned him into the living room, similar to Dash’s own but filled with pictures and pillows and well-worn furniture. The whole place smelled delicious, like some kind of slow-cooked meat and tomatoes.

I should’ve brought something.

The thought occurred to him about ten minutes too late. People brought gifts when they were invited to dinner. They didn’t just waltz across the threshold empty-handed. Idiot. He should have picked up a plate of