Edge of Chaos (Love on the Edge #1) (7 page)

“No. Of course not . . .” I bit my lip. I’d gotten wasted and let a stranger take me home—well, a somewhat stranger. His website
was
bookmarked on my laptop, surely that had to count for something in my way of judgment. Thank God Dash was a perfect gentleman, too. A shudder ripped through me with the thought of what could’ve happened if he hadn’t been.

“It’s all right, Blake. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.” He reached across the couch and touched my knee.

My muscles uncoiled. Damn he was good at reading my moods. “How are you so . . . perceptive?”

“I’ve got two sisters, a great mom, and an amazing grandmother who lives right next door to my parents’ place. I never stood a chance.” He cracked a half grin. “I had to develop a sharp eye to spot all the mood swings you girls have.” He winked at me.

“Well, thanks, for everything. I’m sorry I got out of control.”

Dash laughed. “If that’s you out of control, then I almost feel bad for you.”

I sighed, finally at ease for the first time since I woke up. The possibility of relaxation surprised me, with Dash sitting on my couch, petting my dog, and offering the kind of friendship I’d craved for years.

I leaned back and took another sip of my coffee. Hail snored on Dash’s lap, not quite loud enough to cover up the sound of keys jingling outside my door.

Ice shot through my veins.

I jumped up and yanked furiously on Dash’s arm. Hail toppled off him with a thunk.

“What the—”

“Shh!” I shoved Dash down the hallway, Hail on our heels, toward my bedroom. I pushed him into my opened closet and gave him a panic-stricken look. I mouthed the words
please
and
sorry
before shutting the door in his face.

By the time I came out of my room, Justin was headed toward it. I closed my bedroom door behind me, cocked my hip to the side, and fastened an angry look on my face. It was harder than I thought, because while I was still pissed at him, I panicked on the inside. If he found Dash here there would be blood, and I couldn’t put Dash in that position.

“What are you doing here, Justin?”

He dropped his eyes. “I wanted to stop by before work and apologize about last night. You know how I am when I drink . . .”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I know.”

The sound of nails scratching against wood scraped behind me. He craned his head in that direction. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s just Hail.” Trying to get to Dash. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

“Dumbass dog.”

“No one asked you to be here,” I snapped.

His eyes turned to slits. “Stop being so defensive of your fucking dog! It’s an animal, not a baby. God, sometimes you are so fucking sensitive. Look, it took a lot for me to come here. I
should
be at work already, but I wanted to say I was sorry. Now are you going to hear me out or what?”

My heart pounded against my chest, but I took a deep breath to slow it. Justin’s arms were still loose at his sides so I knew his anger was at a safely low level. No need to heighten it. “I’m listening.”

“Like I said, I was drunk and pissed off because my truck got towed and Mark had to take me to pick it up. We’d just gotten back to my place when you texted.”

My mouth popped open, the question of where he’d parked in order to get towed on my tongue, but I stopped it. He often parked in the covered area of his apartment complex despite not paying extra for the space. I reached for his hand, noticing he wasn’t wearing his watch. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He pulled his hand back. “Because I stopped needing a mother years ago, Blake.”

The way he said my name hit my chest with guilt, as if the jab was directed at me and not his estranged family. I swallowed hard, now understanding his outburst last night. I’d been the direct catalyst for his family kicking him out, and even though I’d tried for years, I’d also failed to reunite them, and he had no one to help him in tough situations like that.

“I’m sorry I took it out on you, but you going out with a bunch of science-geeks only made it worse. They don’t have your well-being as their first priority like I do. You shouldn’t have sprung that on me.”

“I hadn’t planned on going out . . .” I rubbed my palms over my face. Explaining all the reasons he didn’t need to worry about me as much as he did was too long a conversation to have while Dash was locked in my closet.

“Where’s your watch?” I lightly grazed his wrist, shocked that he didn’t have it on. He’d worn the gold piece every day since we were sixteen. It’d been his aunt’s father’s and she had slipped it into one of the boxes that Justin’s uncle had left on the porch the night he’d kicked him out. I’d always believed the watch was her way of saying goodbye and that he wore it as his way of saying he still needed her. In my darker moments, I looked at it and only saw a golden reminder that I was the reason for his abandonment.

He held his wrist out, gazing at the empty spot for a few seconds too long, before shrugging. “I sold it to get my truck back.”

I sucked in a breath. “Justin, you could’ve—”

“Don’t. It wasn’t a big deal. Thing was a pain in the ass to wear anyway.”

I opened my mouth to tell him I knew that wasn’t true, but the look in his eyes quickly shut my commentary down. He wasn’t in the mood.

“About last night,” he forged on, returning to the original reason he came over. “Can we both agree that we’re sorry?”

I glanced up at him, his tall frame made his head nearly touch the ceiling in my small hallway. For some reason I
did
feel an urge to apologize, but not because of going out with Dash and the guys. More to make up for the fact that he had no real family outside of me, but somewhere in the far back of my mind I knew it wasn’t entirely my responsibility.

Before I could respond he pulled me into his arms and pressed my head against his chest.

“You’re all I’ve got, Blake. I can’t stand the idea of what could happen to you when you get reckless.”

“I wasn’t reckless,” I said, despite knowing I could hardly remember last night. I was about to make a case for being able to handle myself just fine, but the angle he held me in gave me a clear view of Dash’s shoes by the door, and I jolted within Justin’s embrace.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking down at me.

I took a step back and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to hide my panic. If he saw those shoes . . .“Nothing. I just don’t feel well.”

“You see what I mean? You shouldn’t hang out with that type of crowd.” He shook his head.

“Weren’t you already running late?” Anger came to keep my panic company.

He glanced at his cell. “Shit. You’re right. Call you later.”

Justin headed for the door quickly, and I thanked God he rushed out without looking down. I locked the door behind him, and waited until the sound of his footsteps disappeared before turning around.

I was surprised Dash hadn’t bolted out of my room and left, never to speak to me again. I was clearly more drama than any ultra-new friendship could handle. He probably thought I was a lunatic, shoving him in there like that.

My cheeks flamed as I walked into my room, imagining all the horrible things he could say about me—like how I was so insecure in my relationship I had to hide a boy in my closet even though nothing had happened between us. Or the fact that I was such a lightweight, I blacked out half the night. And then he could always bring up the point that I’d let him, a near stranger, bring me home.

Hail sat in front of the closet, her hips swinging back and forth rapidly. I nudged her aside with my foot and cringed while sliding the closet door open.

Dash held my black sequined camisole over his muscled chest. He glanced down at it before pinning his green eyes on me. “Do you think this top is too much?”

A laugh ripped from my throat. I had to cover my mouth to stop it. “No, it brings out the color of your eyes,” I said after gaining my composure.

The tension in my chest burst like a hundred tiny balloons. Dash slipped the cami back on the hanger and stepped out of my closet. Hail got under his feet so fast she nearly tripped him. He righted himself and took a seat on my bed, Hail jumping up beside him.

Dash looked at me then, and the light joking had left his eyes as he glanced toward the hallway.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

“You say that a lot, don’t you?”

“What?”

“
Sorry
. I swear, I’ve only spent one night with you and you’ve already said it ten times.”

My mouth dropped. I didn’t think I said it that much. I shrugged. “Well, I am. I know that must’ve seemed crazy, but if Justin found you in here . . . he wouldn’t wait for me to explain. He’d just start throwing punches, and I didn’t want you to get mixed up in that.”

“Guess it’s good I stayed put then. I almost didn’t.”

“What?”

He stroked Hail’s fur. “I was seconds away from shutting Justin’s mouth for him. I mean, I know I just met you, but that’s no way for a man to speak to a lady.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the chest. Justin had always spoken to me like that. I’d never thought of it as anything but normal. “Really?” I asked, imagining the brawl that would’ve ensued if Dash had followed through with his plan. “You seem like the type of guy who keeps a level head.”

He shrugged. “There are exceptions, but most of the time I am. It kind of comes with the job. You have to stay focused when you’re out in the field or you can wind up hurt, or worse.”

“True.” I sighed.

I wished Justin kept calm under pressure, but it wasn’t in his nature. Anytime the situation got a little intense, he’d resort to act first think later, and usually that led to me getting hurt—at least emotionally. My belongings were the only things he’d actually physically harmed, and himself. I pushed the thought away.

Dash pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and glanced at it. “Ten thirty. You want to go get some breakfast-lunch?”

“You mean brunch?”

He patted Hail’s head before standing. “No. I meant breakfast-lunch. Men don’t eat brunch.” He smirked.

A thrill ran through my center, but it quickly fizzled. Justin was clear on where he stood when it came to me going out with anyone other than him. I gazed at Dash, a hollow feeling in my stomach—I’d regret it forever if I didn’t get to know him better. I thought about how angry Justin would be if he found out, but I reminded myself he hung out with his friends all the time. This was no different than that.

“Sure,” I finally said. “You want to call Lindsay? We could pick her up on the way.” I rummaged through my closet for some jeans.

Dash took a step closer as I turned around with my favorite pair in my hand.

“You know it’s all right to be yourself around me. I think it’s safe to say we’re friends. And my girlfriend doesn’t have to be there in order for it to be “acceptable” to hang out with you. I’m not sure if he makes you feel that way, but that isn’t how I operate, okay?”

The sincerity in his green eyes nailed me to the floor.

“All right,” I whispered and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Sorr—”

“
Don’t
say sorry,” Dash cut me off. He shook his head. “You’d think you never had a real friend before.” He chuckled on his way out of my bedroom.

I shut the door behind him to change but didn’t laugh. He was right.

“These are incredible,” I said after I swallowed another bite of the best Belgian waffles I’d ever eaten. “How do you know all the best places?”

Dash cocked an eyebrow from where he sat across the table. “I’m on the road a ton during storm season, and most of our food comes out of a paper bag. So when I’m home, I only eat where it is exceptionally above par.” He took a drink of his iced tea before tackling a massive panini on his plate.

The quaint restaurant had a classic southern appeal with sleek wooden furniture and plenty of painted longhorn skulls hanging from the walls. The place’s spread for brunch was stacked with classics from buttermilk biscuits and gravy to chicken fried steak. There were small stations next to the buffet—one cranked out fresh waffles or pancakes, and the other had the made-to-order panini press.

“Are you ready for this season?” I asked, drowning a piece of waffle in the restaurant’s special pecan syrup.

“Absolutely. Nothing like the start of it . . . so many possibilities.” His green eyes lit up like he could see an endless line of tornadoes begging for capture.

“How does Lindsay take you being away?” I asked, considering the freedom in having a valid excuse for a two-month break.

Dash shrugged. “We only had just gotten together a couple months before last year’s season, so she’s only been through one with me. And she handled it all right, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Well, she called . . . a lot. And she couldn’t really grasp that if we came back for a weekend we might leave again at a moment’s notice. One time we decided to track a supercell in Plano, Texas, and she lost her shit over it. Wanted me to take her to a foreign film festival instead. When I got back, she gave me the silent treatment for three days.”

“I’d relish a silent treatment.” I took a drink of orange juice.