Page 114 of Chasing Stardust

Dash turns to me, wonder reflecting in his mismatched eyes. “Are you kidding?” He bumps me with his shoulder. “You and me? We’re like pee and carrots.”

A semihysterical laugh bursts from my throat as a combination of exhaustion and relief turns my stomach inside out. The same question I’d asked Damian pushes its way past my lips. “Seriously, Dash. What are you doing here?”

“Come on, Zo, where else would you go to spread your mom’s ashes?”

“But . . .” I fumble for words that never come.

Dash picks up my hand and inspects my split knuckles. “Nice right cross, by the way. Does it hurt?”

“A little.” Not nearly as much as thinking I’d lost you again. I gently extract my throbbing hand from his and rest it in my lap.

“I wanted to rush in and defend your honor, but I figured the badass who fought off a bear with a cup of pee could take care of herself.” He shrugs, his gaze focused on the ocean. “Guess I was right.”

“Yeah, I think he finally got the hint.” Fighting the urge to lean into him, I glance at the rippling waves and then back to his face. “How’d you know I’d be on the pier today? Now?”

“Oh.” He flushes to the tips of his ears, and his gaze drops to the mangled funnel cake in his lap. “Your G-Lo sort of told me.”

The second her name crosses his lips, it hits me. “The pictures. I texted her from your phone.”

He nods but still doesn’t make eye contact.

“She sort of told you how to find me?”

Dash flashes a sheepish grin. “She basically drew me a map. But I gotta tell ya, you’re a hard woman to track down. I was so sure you’d be at the tribute concert in Flagstaff, but—”

“You were there?” My mouth drops open as shock turns to vindication, and I do an internal fist pump. “I knew I saw you in the audience. I was backstage, but I got kicked out trying to get down to the floor. I waited for like an hour, and you never came out so I figured I’d hallucinated you.”

Dash relaxes against the back of the bench and scrubs a hand over his face, laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“While you were outside waiting, I searched inside until the roadies started packing up.”

“That figures.” With a wry laugh, I reach over and pull off a piece of his funnel cake, shoving it between my lips. I chew slowly, trying to decide how to bring up the proverbial elephant in the room. We can’t move on until I know . . . “Dash, what happened? Back in Detroit. You swore you didn’t have anything to do with the reporters, but after making your mysterious phone call, you came back and said you’d sold your soul—”

“I did. But not like you think.” He turns toward me, pinning me with his stare. “I called my dad.”

“After he took everything from you? Why?”

Dash rakes a hand through his hair. “Because I didn’t know what else to do. I told him I’d come back, but I’d need two weeks and he’d have to give back the damn car.”

“So, if you didn’t tell them, how’d the reporters know where we’d be?”

Dash leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “I swear to God, I didn’t sell you out. But in the end, I guess it’s still my fault.”

“What happened?” My fingers itch to take his hand, but I resist the urge.

“I was so pissed when Dad had the car towed and reported my cards stolen, I called Mom. She said she’d send a car to pick me up, but if I wanted her help, she wanted your story in return.”

“That’s . . .” What kind of mother does that?

“I told her to forget it, but I guess I’d already given her everything she needed. She took what I said in confidence and sold us out. I’m so sorry, Zoey.”

“And you really had no idea?” I hold my breath, waiting for him to confirm what my heart already knows.

His gaze collides with mine. “Not a clue. Not until we got there, and I saw the media swarming. I thought if I could just get you out of there and explain . . .” He blows out a breath. “But by then it was too late. Everything had snowballed.”

I search his eyes for any hint of a lie. When I don’t find one, I lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”