Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
NOW
Same Day
Dash
“ S hit,” I say under my breath when Bryce Meyer enters the pub. All my Stacey drama made me forget about his first shift. Dad said he could have a job, and I said I was all right to start his training when Dad was away.
He’s taller than last season and since hitting his twenties, he hit a maturity streak, looking more like a man than a teen. All Meyers are a bit older than their chronological age anyway because of their upbringing. They raised themselves because their parents weren’t around. Bryce’s mannerisms remind me of Mercy, but he’s a lot less crass than Mercy is. Mercy’s the eldest Meyer and Jack Leslie’s boyfriend.
He smiles. “Hey, thanks for this. Merc made everyone old enough get jobs this summer.”
Knowing Merc, he’s teaching them life skills. His and Jack’s NHL career can probably support the whole family.
“We were gonna start you off as barback so that you can move to bartending a little faster. You’ll mostly work with Matty today, but I’ll show you around.”
I have the time now before the restaurant gets busy. It’ll be a great distraction. Before we can get far, the door opens, blowing in the summer breeze along with an Elkington.
Even if Maverick didn’t play on my hockey team, Elkingtons are easy to recognize. They all have the same steel jawline, and “I’m the best thing in the universe” demeanor. He bypasses the hostees, who glare at him, and seats himself despite the sign that clearly states, “please wait to be seated”. He demurely sits in one of the booths and settles his gaze on Bryce.
“What’s that about?” I ask.
Bryce’s cheeks tinge a healthy shade of pink. He rubs the back of his neck. “Um, yeah. He’s not a fan of this whole ‘me having a job’ thing.”
I raise a brow. “Boyfriend?”
“Complicated.”
Joy.
“Good god.” I didn’t have the chance to get to know Maverick all that well last season. He kept to himself, and I guess his spare time went to whatever he was doing with Bryce. I was preoccupied. I pull the phone from my pocket. Rhett and, or Logan will be dealing with this. I’m pretty sure Maverick was the brother who moved in with Rhett, but I can’t remember. It’s hard enough keeping up with my own drama, never mind RhettLo drama—and they have a lot of it. After I send a text to both of them so that at least one of them will get their ass down here, I lead Bryce to the back and hand him a shirt.
“Sooo, what does a barback do?”
“It’s simple, kid. You’re the bartender’s bitch. Whatever they want, you get them as fast as humanly possible.”
He rolls his eyes. “Kid? I’m not that much younger than you.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re not.” It just feels that way since I met him when he was much younger.
“I look after a baby, and a Theo, I think I can do this.”
I don’t doubt he’s built for the chaos that is working in a restaurant, but it’s still a lot. I show him where to sign in for his shift, take him through the staff area, and show him the kitchen. We pass Dirk on the way.
“I have an Elkington situation out there,” I tell him.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Dirk says.
I ask Bryce with my eyes if he’s willing to elaborate.
“Maverick Elkington and I kinda made out in a locker room once and now he acts as if we’re fated mates.”
“Fated mates?” Dirk asks.
“Shifter romance reference,” I explain.
“I’m sorry I asked,” Dirk says. “Where’s Rhett? He needs to remove his brother before I do.”
I hold up a hand to tell Dirk to wait before he goes all Texas Ranger out there. Dirk doesn’t mind the Elkingtons as much as some do, but he’s allergic to drama.
“Why aren’t you dating?” I ask because it’s clear they’re not, just not why they’re not.
Bryce heaves a sigh. “I had the hugest crush on him back in the RhettLo getting-together era, but Merc was against it, so it didn’t move past idle flirtations. But then Merc decided he was being a helicopter parent—which, true—and I discovered that Merc was right about how much of an asshole Mav is.”
“I swear to fucking god, if you two are another Sutterchuck, I’m moving to Mexico,” Dirk threatens. “Only one sex-crazed couple per friend group.”
Sutter and Casey are a lot. Dirk’s walked in on more of their fuckfests than he ever wanted to see.
“We’re not fucking—we’ve never fucked, for the record. He’s just my unhinged stalker.”
“Do you need a restraining order?” I ask, and I’m serious. What Maverick’s doing is a new level of fucked up, even for our group of weirdos.
Bryce smiles. The blush is back. “You remember the part about him being an Elkington, right?”
Yeah, Elkingtons are hard to shake. “Let me see if I understand. You refuse to date him because he’s a huge dick, but he’s him, so he’s sure you belong to him and thinks you just need time to come around?”
From the way he’s acting, Maverick might be right—as wrong as that sounds. The attention doesn’t exactly seem unwanted.
Bryce’s eyes narrow into slits, remembering something, wiping the Maverick-filled adoration off his face. “Even if I did want to be his boyfriend—and I don’t—he’s leaving at the end of the summer. He got pulled up. He’ll be playing with Vancouver this season.”
Huh. That sounds more like the real reason. Is he afraid he’ll be too attached?
“That’s not so bad.” It’s a helluva lot better than if he were say, playing for Kelowna and on the road, while Maverick played for Vancouver while also being on the road. If that’s just like my and Stacey’s situation, it’s a coincidence. A cruel coincidence.
Bryce runs fingers through the long parts of his hair.
I get it. That’s his real fear. He doesn’t want to get attached, so he’s keeping Maverick at a distance. Easy for me to see from the outside, likely impossible for him to see on the inside. It also means that if Bryce is at the pub, that’s where Maverick will be.
B y six o’clock, the kitchen’s slammed, the bar’s slammed, all my servers are in the weeds. At least Rhett did show up, but instead of taking his brother home, he joined him. Logan was soon to follow after he was done with work, and he brought Jack and Mercy with him. Stanley’s not with them, so it’s safe to assume another Meyer has him. My eyes keep flicking to the door because if there are this many of us here, more will come. We usually gather like magnets. It’s only a matter of time before Stacey shows up with his companions.
I finally have a minute to stop by their table with a round of the shots they ordered.
“Have one with us,” Jack says. “We’re playing a game. Every time Bryce has to go for well stock, we take a shot.”
“Not me,” Maverick says. “I’m only here to make sure no one touches him.”
At least he’s not hiding his obsession. That’s something, I guess. Rhett’s a bit of a proud Papa, smiling in his brother’s direction, squeezing Logan’s hand. I guess that’s what it means to be loved by an Elkington, you have to be willing to be utterly owned.
Syd’s not like that. I don’t want that.
Well, maybe I a little bit want that.
Or a lot.
Okay, fine. I a lot want that.
I thought I was happy with Syd until fucking Stacey and his bomb drop. I’m so mad at him.
“Maybe later. We’re in the fucking weeds. I’d better go check the kitchen.”
I head into the back. “Corner! Behind!” I shout as I make my way around the corner and into the throng of servers, food runners, and bussers who are trying to squeeze through spaces too small for the number of people who need to pass. I back against the wall so one of the servers can get by, her arms laden with food.
“Hands! Hands to the line,” our expo shouts.
Even though half the staff is back here, they’re all busy with something. Fucking dammit. I should have called another food runner in tonight.
Dirk’s low voice calls orders as the kitchen struggles to keep up. They could use me on the line, but I only have one other manager on the floor. Fuck. This is bad. Everyone’s food’s gonna run long. There will be yelling. There will be bad reviews online. There will be customers who never return despite what we do to make up for it. My chest tightens. I hate this. Dad should be able to rely on me.
The two-way door to the kitchen swings open, and my skin breaks out in gooseflesh despite the sweltering heat.
Stacey.
I could cry. It’s fucking Stacey.
He’s got all the confidence I’m missing, chest high, brimming with it. I shouldn’t want to hand him all my problems, I shouldn’t feel the relief, knowing that I can, but I do, and it’s the sweetest hit of relief I’ll ever have.
Stacey’s brown-eyed gaze falls on me. He knows before I say a word. His deep voice sinks into my soul. “Where do you want me? On the line? Or on the floor?”
The first thought that pops into my head is so not the thing I should be thinking about, but I know he’s gonna roll up those sleeves if he gets on the line. Fuck, though. I also love seeing the way he interacts with guests, knowing he’s … he’s mine, dammit. Feeling the thread between us like it’s a living breathing thing, confident with the assurance that the unwavering, strong, smoking hot man, spreading his kindness to the guests, will always return to me by the end of the night.
But it’s my final thought that makes the decision for me.
The summer twins are out there.
“On the line.” Did I just make a personal decision when I should have made a restaurant decision? Oops. Do I give a flying fuck? No. I should be fired immediately, but thank you nepotism.
“On it.”
Just like I hoped, he begins rolling up his sleeves. I might be drooling. I might be staring too long. My heart’s beating in time with my dick.
“Nolan!” Dirk yells. “We’re almost eighty-six filets.”
“Got it.” I barrel toward fridges for more filets. Looks like we’ll both be rolling up our sleeves and getting stuck in the kitchen together.
W e survive another rush—because, yeah, there’s always a good hour where you feel like you’ll die—and I make it back onto the floor. My servers have a million problems for me to solve, but I knock them off one by one, renewed confidence fueling me. Is it a coincidence that this burst of confidence comes at the same time Stacey showed up? Yes. Total coincidence.
“Um, Dash. Can I see you for a sec?” Stacey pokes his head out of the kitchen. I’m near the bar.
His voice. A jolt.
Fucking goddamn him.
Things have changed in a big way. A long-forgotten Pandora’s box has opened, and I’ve got to find a way to shut the lid and lock it for good.
I swallow. “Yep. Coming.” My voice is too joyful. It sounds fake. I drag myself to the back, hoping whatever he wants to talk to me about has nothing to do with what he told me. What are the chances?
There’s a sheen of sweat coating my skin by this point. At least I’m disgusting. A total turn-off. That’s gotta help in some way.
Oh my god, Dash. It’s not like he’s thinking about boning you every second of every day.
Wait, does he? No. It’s Stacey. I bet he’s protected me from himself even in his thoughts. Sex and I have never crossed his mind.
Or have they?
Now I wanna know.
Now it’s all I’m gonna think about.
I know what his dick looks like. How big it is. What would it look like if … No. Not going there.
Okay, no more thinking about Stacey’s dick.
In my ass.
That was the last time, I swear.
I follow Stacey to the back where all the cubbies and lockers are. When we carry on further back to Dad’s office, a pit opens in my stomach. Okay, did not sign on for this—being alone in a secluded room with Stacey and his feelings for me.
Dad has the same wooden desk he’s had for all the years he’s owned this restaurant. It’s sturdy, but it’s worn in places. Like the ring where he sets his coffee mug since apparently coasters “aren’t his thing”, and the little slit-sized holes from his “thinking knife”, the one he holds and spins while he makes big decisions. There’s the faint scent of cigars from when he smoked them regularly. Dirk got after him about them and he gave it up, but I suspect he has one when a particular mood hits.
Stacey shuts the door. It closes with finality. I try to figure out what to do with my hands, eventually settling on shoving them into my pockets. It doesn’t help that Stacey’s different to me now. Everything about him’s intensified. I pick up on the gold the sun’s left in his hair with more acuity. He’s bigger—did he put on size in the last two weeks?—and then there are his lips. Just sitting there. Plump. Begging for me to?—
No.
The summer twins come to mind. They’re my saving grace right now. Thinking about them kissing him enrages me. I want to tear their skin off, and that has the fortunate side effect of deflating my libido.
No, not just my libido. My sudden and inappropriate lust for Stacey.
“So, we had some big changes, and I just wanted to check in,” he says, dropping into mentor mode.
What the fuck? He’s going back to that? He hasn’t been that for a long time with me. It’s what kept us apart in the first place. It’s why I hated him as much as I loved him for a bit.
Seriously, fuck the mentor bullshit.
Kinda fuck him too, for doing it.
“You don’t need to go there. Everything’s fine.” And I pass as believable. Because right now, I want fuck all to do with Stacey and his Dash-centric altruism.
He flinches. “Okay, because I thought there might have been something earlier.”
“Nope.” I cross my arms.
“You’re mad.”
I shrug. “Nope.”
“ Dash. ” He runs his fingers through his hair. That sun-spun hair I wanna bury my nose into and?—
No.
I take a breath.
“Okay, so I’m processing what you said, happy? Can I have some space to do that without you trying to therapize me?”
“That’s not a word, Dash.”
“Is now.”
His lips—the swollen, begging to be kissed ones—draw into a firm line, telling me he’s getting fed up with me. That’s not fucking fair. I’m the one fed up with him. He stands taller, crossing his arms, becoming the immovable thing I’ve always loved molding against.
My heart beats faster. Blood rushes. Air catches in my throat.
We’re in a weird standoff I don’t know how to get out of.
Dirk bursts into the office. “Problem solved for you, Dashie. Hunter said you could stay with him for a few … days.”
He trails off at the sight of an agitated Stacey. If you want to make Stacey even more agitated, you mention Hunter. If you want to seriously piss him off, you mention my name in a sentence with Hunter’s. Everyone from here to the moon knows that.
“Hunter’s place?” Stacey says. The question isn’t for me.
“Hey, Stace. Didn’t see you come in here,” Dirk says.
Yeah, he fucking did, but he didn’t expect Stacey to already be pissed. All my friends are meddling meddlers who meddle. That’s fine, though. Stacey and I will fight. I want a fight. In fact, I wish we were on the damn ice, so I’d have an excuse to pound on him a little.
Stacey turns to me. “You’re not staying with Hunter.”
A bolt of electricity shoots through me, waking up my dick. Stacey’s usually a lot gentler with his instructions. Not always, but usually. I’ve forever wished he would be more demanding like he is right now. In the past, I’d never dream of poking the bear on purpose—that’s usually Casey and Jack’s MO—but right now, I want more of this Stacey.
“Huh. Last I checked, you’re not my dad, and I’m an adult. Guess I can do whatever the fuck I want. Tell your brother I just need to grab some things from the house, Dirk.”
Dirk smiles from behind Stacey. “Okay.” He promptly leaves after that stirring of shit, shutting the door hard.
Stacey’s on me so damn fast, pinning me to the old wooden desk, a hand on either side of my hips, breathing heavily into my space. The scent of his sweat and cologne permeates the air, mixing into a deadly combination of desire. My lungs rise and fall rapidly.
“No,” he says.
“Yes,” I say, licking my lips.
A strong hand slides up my sweat-soaked cheek. He stares, eyes flickering as if a thousand images are racing across his perfect vision.
But I’m the only thing he sees.
Our lips crash like tidal waves. I’ve never felt anything like this before. Never. Something feral takes over. A deep primal urge I didn’t know existed. I breathe Stacey. I taste him.
It’s a kiss that leaves no room for interpretation. Claiming. Possessive. I fucking goddamn own you.
It’s a game-changing kiss. A ‘the end of my world as I knew it’ kiss.
His tongue pushes past my lips and starts a war with my tongue. He ravages me, stripping me of the last shred of sanity I have, baring my soul, breaking me down till there’s nothing left but him. I am an open vessel, he’s the life force that fills me.
A moan breaks the silence. It was me. Rough fingers press into my jaw. I want more of them. I want his marks all over me. And fuck. He tastes so good—like sin and love and home.
Home.
And forever.
I let go. It’s so hard for me to let go, but with Stacey it’s easy. With Stacey, it’s a free fall into warm rain, into ultimate solace.
Stacey pulls away, but not before he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth. My heart’s about to burst from my chest. That’s when the avalanche hits. Stacey kissed me, Stacey , and I undeniably kissed him back.
I want to do it some more.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says. “I’m fuck, I’m so sorry. It won’t … won’t happen again.”
His fingers clench, they’re still wrapped around my jaw.
“But you’re not staying at Hunter’s. You’re not. If you go there, I’ll fucking retrieve your ass. I’ll drag you kicking and fucking screaming if I have to. Do you understand me?”
Holy … holy shit. I’m gonna burst into flames. My cock swells and the skin around the head tightens painfully.
Man, it’s so tempting to defy him and bring the visions to life, but I nod because poking the bear at this juncture seems ill-advised. I got, well, exactly what I fucking wanted. I think. But if he gets to make demands then I’ve got one of my own.
“You do not fuck them anymore. They do not put their lips anywhere on your body. That ends immediately.” I don’t expect the fiery rage that burns my throat. Guess I hate the scenario with the little sex dolls more than I thought. But I don’t care. I don’t care if it’s right, or wrong, or downright terrible of me. If they touch him again, I’ll rip their fingers off.
“Never fucked them, Dashie.”
“Then whatever else you had going on, it’s over.”
He nods. “It already is. Um, unfortunately, I have to look after them for a bit longer. Their, uh, Daddy had an issue to take care of. He’ll be here to retrieve them as soon as he can.”
“They can’t stay in a hotel?” Or on the damn moon?
He shakes his head, swallowing, likely picking up on my unspent rage. Good. “No. Long—personal for them—story, but they can’t be left alone.”
What a mess. What a fucking mess.
Which means I definitely shouldn’t ask what I’m about to ask, but the part of me that longs for him needs to know. I won’t be a whole person until I know—know he’s got it as bad for me as I do him. I step forward, and he flinches, but he doesn’t object to my hand against his face.
“Do you think about it?”
“About what?” he breathes, still not fully recovered from kissing me.
“Fucking me.”
“What kind of a question is that? Fucking Christ, Dash.”
“Maybe you want to do it right now? Bend me over Dad’s desk, or maybe shoving me against the wall is more your style, huh?”
“Dash—”
“I can keep going,” I warn, though I’ve got my answer. He’s affected. He stopped breathing two seconds ago. Desire and tenderness burn in his eyes in equal measure.
A fed-up snarl, then me against the desk again, but this time he lifts a leg, pressing my knee to my chest, prying me wide open for him. My heart’s in my throat and my nuts ache so hard I’m sure they’re gonna fall off.
“Yeah, I think of fucking you. Every goddamn day of my life, okay? But I wouldn’t be satisfied fucking you from behind. You’d be facing me the whole time because I wouldn’t make it easy for you. I’d punish you for being a fucking tease, punish you with my cock until your voice was hoarse from begging. And then—and only then—when you’re all used up would I allow you any pleasure, any relief from the merciless pounding you’d be getting. I’d want to see all that playing out on that beautiful face of yours, right up to the moment you came for me with my name on your lips. Does that answer your question, sweetheart?”
Okay, one. Is it just me, or does sweetheart sound like a threat?
Two, can a person die from horniness? I think I’m the horniest I’ve ever been.
“Yes.” The fact that I sucked in enough air to say one word is a miracle. My lungs are empty like I’ve been winded. I’m scared to breathe anyway. I don’t want to break this spell, I want it to sweep me away.
But it can’t.
He releases my leg, and it drops to the floor. There’s a flash in his eyes. He said more than he meant to, didn’t he? He removes his hands from me as if I’ve burned them. “This’ll never happen again. I lost…” He swallows. “I lost control. I’m … fuck.”
Stacey backs away slowly, spinning toward the door. I close my eyes. I can’t watch him go, or I’ll run after him. I can’t let myself do that.
Chilled air fills the space where a fire burned seconds ago. There’s the click of a door opening, but I don’t hear it shut, just the creak of hinges when it opens again. Dirk’s familiar arms circle me as my vision blurs.
“You’re an idiot,” I tell him, crying into his shoulder.
“No, you two are idiots.”
I can’t argue with that. “You shouldn’t have done it.”
“No regrets. I’d ask what happened, but Stacey’s lips looked like they’d been mauled by a vacuum cleaner, and you have Alderchuck-sized fingerprints along your jaw.”
“Fuck you. I do not.”
“You do. Take a look for yourself.”
Wiping my eyes, I race to the mirror in Dad’s office. Sure enough, there they are. Big, round, starting to purple. My lips are swollen too. I run a finger over them.
Stacey kissed these. Stacey kissed me. It wasn’t just any kiss, either. It’s already begun to haunt me.
And he thinks about fucking you every damn day.
“Does this mean the wedding’s off?” Dirk says.
This’ll never happen again. I lost control.
Those words were a death sentence to anything further happening between me and Stacey, even if I were to call things off with Syd.
“I don’t know. I’m going to have to tell Syd what I’ve done.” In person. When he gets home, I’ll tell him everything and hope to fuck he can forgive me. This was unforgivable. “I guess we’ll see.”
“You can’t be serious, Dash. Call it off.”
“To think once upon a time, you were the one warding Stacey away from me.” Now he’s conspiring to get us together.
“Shit changes. Now would you fucking listen to me?”
“I’ve been with Syd for almost two years. I’m not throwing that away over a meaningless kiss.” But my words already have less significance than they would have had about five minutes ago. I think I have to break things off with Syd no matter how this pans out.
“Okay, Dash. You might be able to lie to someone else, maybe even yourself, but not to me. Try the fuck again.”
Dirk knows it wasn’t nothing. I know it wasn’t nothing.
“It doesn’t matter, Dirk. This thing with Stacey is a fever dream, some last-minute regret.” And that’s the fucking truth. I think. Why won’t my heart stop pounding?
“Why are you fighting this so hard? You can have everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“You know why, Dirk. He …” I pull at my hair. It’s a feeling I can’t begin to explain. Born from rejection, from being told over and over why things wouldn’t work, from knowing that the reasons he didn’t want me in the first place still exist—will always exist. I’m not putting myself through the fucking hope just to get my heart smashed again. “I want to move forward with Syd if he’ll fucking let me after this shitshow.” My body shakes from trying to hold back tears. My lip trembles. “Do you have a problem with that?”
I’m sick of everyone tonight. I hope that keeps him off my back until I have a chance to figure things out for myself. I love my family, I even love that they can be overbearing, but it’s inconvenient when I want to think for a goddamn second.
“Okay, Dash. Okay,” he stresses. “What should I tell Hunter, though?”
“Please say you didn’t actually call him.”
“I actually called him, and you know how he gets.”
“Tell him everything’s fine.”
“Even if it’s not?”
“It will be,” I say.
But nothing’s fine. Nothing might be fine ever again.