Fallen (The Frenemy Series Book 3)

by Kate Benson

  “Yeah,” she nods, turning her head to kiss the inside of my arm, her fingers tracing over the lines as my palm moves gently over her skin. “Dash?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” I whisper, kissing her hair. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  My palm comes to a slow stop on her stomach, the feel of flutters against my fingertips making me smile.

  “Dash?”

  “What, baby?”

  “I’m pretty sure these kids are going to kill us.”

  “Yeah,” I grin wide and my chest clenches when I glance down to find her smiling, too. “Well, we had a good run, pussycat.”

  evie

  “Thank you for helping me get all my stuff set up,” I say, turning to find him watching me pull my brushes and paints. “And for helping me sleep.”

  It’s the third week in a row I’ve joined the other artists to paint in the park. Although I hate that it’s cut into my time with Dash, I couldn’t love the feeling of community more. It’s one of the few things I truly missed about college and something I hadn’t realized I’d thrived on so much until it was gone.

  For the first time in months, I finally feel like I’ve found my people.

  “You’re welcome,” he replies, gripping my chin and pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. “Do you feel better?”

  “I could probably still sleep for three more days, but yes,” I yawn. “Can you stay for a while tonight?”

  He glances at his watch and meets my eyes with a nod.

  “I’ll have to leave in about a half hour or so, but I’ll stay with you until then,” he promises, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “You should take the truck, baby.”

  “No,” I shake my head. “I don’t want you to have to wait for me to drive back up to get you tonight.”

  “I can just call an Uber or something,” he tries, but I shake my head again. “How are you going to get all this stuff back home?”

  “I can grab a ride with someone here,” I offer, and my words make his nose scrunch up. “I mean, unless you want to take me back home so I can get Sue.”

  “Nice try,” he smirks, placing the keys to his truck in my hand and closing my fingers over them when I try to protest. “I’m a big boy.”

  “Oh, trust me, baby. I know,” I counter playfully, my eyes twinkling suggestively as I slide them into his front pocket. “Why do you think I keep you around?”

  He’s about to reply, the wicked smirk on his lips pulling crimson to my cheeks, but his words are cut short by the sound of footsteps approaching us from behind.

  “Hey Evie!”

  “Hey girl,” I say, smiling when I turn to find Connie, another artist from the gallery, approaching.

  “Are you okay?” she asks. “I didn’t see you at the studio today.”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t feeling great this morning,” I admit, gesturing toward Dash. “This one put me on lockdown.”

  “Good,” she giggles, extending her hand toward Dash. “Hi, I’m Connie.”

  “Dash,” he returns her smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too,” she replies, turning her attention to me. “What are you working on tonight?”

  “New one,” I admit, gesturing toward the blank canvas sitting at my feet. “Not sure what yet.”

  “Awesome,” she beams. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m gonna get set up.”

  “Okay,” I say, waving as she goes.

  “She seems nice,” Dash says, making me nod. “I’m glad you’re making friends.”

  “She is,” I agree. “And me, too.”

  He stays with me for a few more minutes, my first strokes coming in time with our low laughter and the feel of his gaze on me. When I pause to refill my brush, he sets his palm on my waist and presses his lips to my hair, the whisper of his love for me filling me still as I promise to call him once I’m home safe.

  “Knock ‘em dead, killer,” he says low as he bends to give me a chaste kiss and I swear, by the time I pack up a couple hours later, I can still feel his lips on mine.

  “Good sesh, tonight, girls,” Jessica smiles, her voice pulling me from the piece and pulling me a step back. “Oh, Evie! That contrast is amazing.”

  “Thank you,” I beam, releasing a long, low sigh of content that quickly turns into a quick giggle. “I’m so glad something finally went right with one of these.”

  “I love these drip lines,” Jude adds.

  “Know what would make it better?” Heather asks, pulling our eyes to her. “A shot of tequila.”

  Her words make us laugh and quickly, the others begin to nod their agreement before their gaze awkwardly falls on my belly.

  “Don’t feel bad for me. How do you think I ended up like this?” I joke, making them laugh. “The minute these babies are out and healthy, I might be sitting at the bar with you.”

  “It’s probably better off anyway,” Leigh says. “Remember how crappy the drinks were at that last place?”

  “Yeah,” they all cringe in unison.

  “And a lot of the good places around here are always packed,” she continues. “It takes forever to get a good drink on a Friday night.”

  “Not to mention, we can’t leave Evie out,” Shawna offers, giving me a quick side hug. “If we show up to a club with a pregnant chick, we might get blacklisted.”

  “That might not be true,” I chime in, my lips quirking up slightly on either side. “I may not be able to drink right now, but I know at least one place that won’t mind serving waters to a pregnant chick.”

  “Yeah? Where’s that?”

  “I know a guy,” I wink. “Help me grab my stuff and I’ll lead the way.”

  Twenty-Five

  dash

  “Hailey, your order’s up!” I call out, making my way back down the bar as quickly as possible, grabbing three longnecks on my way. “Eighteen bucks, man.”

  “Keep it,” he says, tossing a few bills on the bar and making way for another small group.

  “Yowza,” the brunette smiles, the word alone enough to make herself giggle. “Hello.”

  “What can I get ya, sweetheart?”

  “Are you an option?” she slurs, leaning further onto the bar. I feign a smile at the cheesy pickup attempt, the little voice of year-ago me flashing ten different replies into my head at once before I ignore them all. “Why don’t you just surprise me?”

  “Sure thing,” I smirk, throwing everything for a Painkiller together before I pour it into a glass. “Twelve bucks, sugar.”

  I slide it across the bar, waiting as she reaches into her purse, pulls out a twenty and presses it into my hand, holding on longer than needed.

  “You can keep the rest of that,” she winks. “There’s a little something extra in there for you, too, handsome.”

  “Thanks,” I smile, moving back to the register. I’m sliding the twenty into the till and removing the card that holds her number when Hailey comes up with her tray. “You good out there?”

  “Yeah,” she nods. “Have you heard from Cat?”

  “Nope,” I admit. “It’s close to eleven, though. I’m willing to bet if she was going to show, she’d be here by now.”

  “You’re probably right,” she groans as I finish updating my stock sheet.

  While things had been awkward ever since she sent me the text that almost got me couch duty for a month, I’ve done everything I can think of to politely tell this girl to fuck off. My position as a bar manager here and my conflicting zero-fucks-given approach to most other things in my life hadn’t made that easy to pull off. She seems to have taken the hint, but I can’t say it didn’t make me dread working with her more than I already did.

  At least Evie’s feeling a little better about things. I didn’t see Hailey at the club for the first couple of days after that text. I’d naively hoped that meant she had run away, tail tucked between her legs, when I rejected her. I even told Evie as much to hel
p ease her insecurities. Unfortunately, though, a week later she resurfaced, and shits been weird ever since.

  I didn’t mention that last part to Evie.

  Maybe I should have. After all, I said I would, but I know who I want, and this girl ain’t it. Bringing up old shit almost never helps anything and with as crappy as Evie’s been feeling, I can’t imagine this would be any different.

  “You got orders for me?” I ask, moving toward her when she nods.

  “Yeah. Table thirty-seven needs four Bud drafts and two Jack and cokes. Forty-one needs a hurricane and a mojito,” she continues, laughing when I roll my eyes. “And I need another round of fireball for forty-two.”

  “That was three, right?”

  “Yeah,” she calls out, her eyes drifting to the stack of cards and napkins to the left of the till when I step away. “Are these all from tonight?” she asks, pulling a disinterested nod from me. “Damn!” she laughs, making me smirk. “There’s gotta be close to twenty numbers there.”

  “I’m not keeping track,” I admit, my voice low. “The only reason they’re still sitting there is because a few of them are lurking and I don’t particularly feel like dealing with any bullshit tonight.”

  “Still,” she shakes her head. “That’s insane. I’ve never seen a dude behind this bar get so many numbers in a night. It must drive your girlfriend crazy.”

  “She doesn’t have to worry about shit like that,” I say bluntly as I start filling her tray. “They’re all hitting that trashcan in about ten minutes.”

  The low sound of dinging in my pocket pulls my eyes down for a minute. That’s probably Evie letting me know she got home. I look out at the packed bar and know as much as I want to, there’s no way I’m going to be able to answer her right now.

  “So, do you think after this-”

  “I need to run upstairs for some stock,” I cut her off. “We’re on our last bottle of Patron and there’s still a few hours left. Leave your checks with me so I can ring you up while you grab the next round.”

  “Okay,” she nods, her disappointment at the rejection lingers before her eyes twinkle playfully once more, making me sigh heavy. “Do you want some help?”

  “Nope,” I shake my head, watching her flinch. “Just watch the bar for a minute. Keep them happy and I’ll be right back.”

  “You got it, boss,” she smiles stiffly before lifting her tray and making her way back out into the crowd.

  Less than five minutes later, I’m running, the feel of bass vibrating through my body becoming second nature. My phone dings a second time and I quietly whisper my apology as I make the top of the stairs and rush into stock, grabbing what I can before I head back out.

  I round the corner, set the bottles down and check service and release a sigh of relief when I find it empty. I move my eyes down the center of the bar to give it a quick sweep and I’m feeling pretty good until I find Hailey standing at the far end pouring herself a generous shot of Fireball.

  “Hailey, we’re slammed right now,” I say, as she brings the glass to her lips and tips it back, staring back at me over the rim. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Might be the Fireball talking, but…” she starts, setting the glass down hard onto the bar before she turns to face me more fully. “Feels like I’m doing something I should’ve done a month ago.”

  Before I can process her words, even make them out good over her slight slur, she makes a beeline down the galley and grips the front of my shirt, forcing her lips on mine.

  Every alarm in my brain goes off at once as she shoves her tongue into my mouth. I place my palms on her shoulders to push her away and judging from the taste of her breath, this isn’t the first shot she’s taken from the bar tonight. When she doesn’t budge, I grip her shoulders to break free, but she misunderstands my touch just as quickly as the crowd in front of us does.

  They fucking erupt.

  She grabs me tighter and the slickness of the floor combined with her obvious buzz has us stumbling backwards almost instantly. My hands catch the bar behind her, unintentionally caging her in to keep myself upright with the force. She groans into my mouth as the crowd explodes once more.

  When I’m finally am able to twist myself away from Hailey’s mouth a second later, the crowd in front of us is so loud, I barely hear her broken voice behind me.

  “What the fuck, Dash?”

  I swear to God, my heart just stopped beating.

  I meet her blue eyes on the other side of the service bar and immediately watch them flood with a mix of tears, fury and betrayal that makes my stomach roll.

  “Evie?” I start, her expression shifting to undiluted anger cutting my words shut.

  Fuck.

  “Baby, it’s not-”

  “Is this your girlfriend?” Hailey asks from behind me, her words slurring with alcohol and amusement. “She’s cute.”

  Whatever rage she’d just been feeling?

  Scratch it.

  My girl just went fucking nuclear.

  “You!” she grates out, locking eyes with Hailey.

  Without flinching, she reaches for a longneck sitting in front of a customer, her hand clenching around the base.

  “Baby?” I try, but I’m met with nothing more than a shake of her head as she storms around the side of the bar, her bottle wielding arm raised in a full-blown rage.

  “Honey, wait!” One of her friends calls out, making her shake her head in immediate defiance as her eyes shift to bore into mine. “You’re pregnant!” Her friend reminds her, carefully grabbing her elbow, finally slowing her movements. “Evie, it’s not worth it.”

  Her chest is heaving, her body trembling with anger as she hesitantly lowers her hand and drops the bottle at her feet.

  “Baby?” I try again, watching her swipe at her cheeks, her head shaking in response as she takes a step back, fighting the emotion pouring out all over her features. “Evie, wait!”

  I push away from Hailey completely and round the bar, forcing myself through the mass of patrons who’d all just come to take in the scene.

  I’m desperate to get to her, but by the time I make it through the thick crowd, I’m too late.

  She’s already gone.

  “Fuck!” I shout, my heart seizing in my chest as I scour the mass of people that have since filled the spot she was just standing in. “Baby!” I call out, pushing my way through them. “Evie!” I shout louder this time, but I still can’t see her anywhere.

  There are too many people here for her to have already made her way outside, but I can’t see shit with all these people surrounding us. I pull myself onto the bar, scouring the crowd before finally, I see her.

  She’s doing what she can to push her way to the exit. When I call her name this time, she glances over her shoulder and shows me the true heartache in her eyes. Her chest deflates when she meets my gaze and I call out to her again, but she shakes her head, more determined as she heads toward the entrance.

  “Fuck!”

  I jump down from the bar and grab my keys from their place beside the register, my chest heaving.

  The sound of customers demanding service drowns out as I make my way toward the back exit, throwing the door open hard enough to have the metal reverberating against the brick building. The harsh sound pulls a dozen eyes toward me from the edge of the alley, none of them the ones I crave. I rush toward the edge of the pavement, searching frantically until I find her coming out of the front entrance up the street.

  “Evie!” I call out, my feet moving of their own volition as I push through the people watching on the sidewalk. “Baby, wait!”

  Her eyes finally swing to mine and her steps slow for just a second, long enough for me to break out into a full sprint and clear some distance.

  “No!” she shouts, quickly swiping at her cheeks as she turns away from me, searching the street for a clear path across.

  I glance up and see an opening in traffic coming quick. I know if she takes it, I’ll nev
er catch up to her despite the burning in my lungs. Her foot lifts from the edge of the sidewalk, pushing me harder as panic fills me.

  “Evie, please!” I plead breathlessly. “Baby-”

  “What?” she screams, whipping back to face me, her features shifting immediately from heartbreak to the same fury she’d just left behind in the club. When she steps back onto the curb and sets her jaw, finally facing me, my blood runs cold as her nostrils flare. Fuck. “Dash. Michael. Hunter.”

  Oh, God.

  She’s middle naming me.

  “Baby,” I start, but she shakes her head as she steps back onto the curb. “Evie, I didn’t-”

  In three swift steps, she somehow clears the distance between us.

  “You lying sack of shit!” she shouts, the sheer volume of her voice surprising me as I stop just in time to meet her eyes.

  It happens so quickly, I never saw it coming.

  Her fist slams into my jaw so hard, my head whips back and I see stars. Somewhere in the distance, I hear a few gasps and expletives, the immediate throbbing in my jaw as the force that causes me to stumble back a half step blocks out most of that, too.

  “Motherfucker!” I hiss, the taste of blood fresh on my tongue and I instinctively raise my palm to my mouth, finding it red when I look down. “Son of a bitch.”

  I’ve been punched in the face by men twice my size, but no one has ever rocked my jaw like that.

  “Call me crazy now, Dash,” she threatens. “Tell me it’s nothing.”

  “Baby-”

  “No!” she cuts me off. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

  “Just listen to me,” I beg, reaching for her arm and flinching when she pulls away. “Evie, I swear to God what you just saw wasn’t-”

  “Stop,” she shuts me down again. “I know exactly what I saw, Dash.”

  “No, you don’t, ba-”

  “I said stop!” she shouts. “Stop fucking lying to me!”

  “I’m not lying,” I swear, gripping her shoulders as gently as she’ll allow. “You just have to let me tell you what ha-”