Sophie wanted to cry but stopped herself. She ached for what he was going through and how badly he must hurt to have come to this bar. She needed to bring him back to his place and hold him until he knew he was safe.
She tilted his chin up so he could look at her. “Dash, I hope you can hear what I’m about to say. I am not leaving. I am here. We are here for you. Okay?”
She tried to get him to meet her eyes, but he wouldn’t.
“You must think I’m disgusting,” he eventually said. “You should go.”
“No,” she emphatically replied. And then she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him so tightly he coughed. But she didn’t know what else she could do or say in that moment, because she’d never been in a situation quite like this. All she knew was that she didn’t want Dash to lose hope, and she wanted so desperately to be able to care for him the way he deserved.
34
DASH
When Dash woke up, he was alone, and he was grateful for that. He didn’t want Sophie to be part of his life anymore, not when he couldn’t control himself. For a few weeks, he’d fantasized about being able to stay sober and good enough for her. But he’d known all along that was a lie.
He pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed and the old, familiar pulse of a hangover throbbed just behind his eyes. He’d had so many in his life, but this one felt raw and sharp. He’d fucked up so badly he couldn’t see a way back. What the hell was wrong with him? He fisted a clump of his hair and pulled in frustration.
Dash put on jeans and a shirt, brushed his teeth, and combed out his hair. He may not have been emotionally ready, but nevertheless he opened his bedroom door to face whatever judgment awaited him.
What awaited him was the smell of maple syrup and bacon. His stomach lurched from the lack of food and overabundance of vodka, and his throat felt dry even after drinking the full glass of water that had been left at his bedside.
Chris stood from the couch in the living room and moved to hug Dash. He let him. And Luna was there, too, wiggling on a soft blanket on the floor.
“She’s doing her tummy time, which she hates.” Chris picked Luna up and held her against his chest. “Are you feeling sick? Because you look like you’re in need of soup, or a trash bin, or both.”
“Thanks.” Dash wiped a hand across his face. “Chris, I should’ve called you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“What happened is done, and you’re safe, which is all I care about.” His friend shrugged so nonchalantly that it felt like they’d just talked about something that wasn’t a massive relapse.
“Here.” Poppy handed Dash a plate—one he’d crafted—loaded with bacon, two waffles smothered in syrup, and a piece of toast with butter and jam. She didn’t look happy about any of it. “Enjoy your heart disease.”
“I will.” He took the plate but grabbed Poppy’s hand. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.”
She squeezed his hand back. “It’s okay. I will make you feel bad about it during strategic moments where I need to manipulate you. Don’t worry.”
His sister smiled widely at him, and a little sense of relief came. Not the same relief he’d felt from initially telling Sophie, but it made him feel lighter all the same.
“Hey,” Sophie said as she entered the room. She held a mug of coffee and was in one of her loose dresses with her hair up in a messy bun. She’d showered, and the makeup from the day before had been washed off. The freckles on her cheeks popped as she attempted to smile at him. She was so gorgeous that he had to look away.
But she handed him the mug, which he took. The coffee aroma made his temples twitch with longing. He sipped.
Dash took his coffee and plate of food to the kitchen table, where Chris and Poppy had already sat down. Sophie came next to him and rubbed her palm across his back before taking a seat. He’d worked so hard to keep all these parts of his life separate—family, friends, and relationships—but now they were here and expecting...what, from him, exactly?
“Am I the only one eating?” he asked.
“Bro, it’s noon,” Chris said. “Believe it or not, some of us wake up early and have already had a second lunch. Thank you, Poppy.”
“No problem.” Poppy waved a breezy hand at Chris. “And I made myself an energizing smoothie with goji and chia and saved you a glass for later.”
She winked at him, knowing how much he’d dislike all those words in one sentence. He played along and winked back.
But he knew they couldn’t dance around reality forever. He’d relapsed, and now he had to find a way back to sobriety. “Is it too late for me to ask for help?” Dash stared at his food and waited for a reply.
“We’re kind of already on it,” Sophie quickly said.
Chris bounced Luna on his knee as he answered. “Let’s do one thing at a time. Have breakfast, drink coffee, start to feel like a human again, then we can talk about the options. Okay?”
Dash nodded, and when he looked up, Sophie watched him warmly. There was no judgment or fear from her, just kindness, and he knew he wanted to do everything he could to never hurt her again.
As Dash packed a bag that he’d take with him to the rehab center, the door to his room creaked open, and he turned to see Sophie.
“How are you feeling?” she gently asked.
How was he feeling? Oh, about three million shades of shitty. He was ashamed that Sophie had seen him drunk in a bar and still in total shock that his mom had sold him out in an attempt to get him back into acting. Where to even start, really?
“I can’t believe...” He let out a shaky breath and looked at his feet planted firmly against the creamy shag rug. “I threw everything away.”
To his surprise, she wrapped an arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. He released a relieved breath at the feel of her fitted perfectly against him.
“You didn’t throw anything away,” she said. “I’m here. Poppy’s here. Chris is here. We’re all here for you.”
When he didn’t say anything, she pressed him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He rubbed at one of his eyes, willing himself to not be hungover. But he knew that was useless. And yes, he did want to talk about it. All of it. So long as it was with her. He was done keeping things from Sophie.
“My mom...” he said despairingly.