Page 75 of Chasing Stardust

He shakes his head, exhaling through his nose. “Remember what I said about strings? As far as he’s concerned, choice is an illusion. No matter what decision I make, he’ll expect me to come back ready to start work at the end of summer—to dive into his life with both feet.”

“What do you want?”

“I’d like to travel and write about what makes people tick. You know? Tell the stories no one wants to tell.”

“To be a writer? Like your mom?”

He nods.

Warmth blooms in my belly, and if we weren’t sitting in the front seat of his car in rush hour traffic, I’d climb into his lap and kiss him. “You really are Superman, aren’t you?”

“I’m far from super,” he says softly. “But I’m definitely trying to be a better man.”

“I wish I was as sure about my future as you.”

“You don’t know what you want to do?”

“I thought I did. I mean, I didn’t plan out my whole life like Jeanie. She got her degree in engineering. I used to think she’d end up working in a pot dispensary somewhere, but she’s starting this great job at a software company making six figures right out of the gate. But me? I always figured I’d end up becoming a teacher like Mom. Now . . .” My heart pounds as I get lost in his eyes. “I’m not so sure anymore.”

For what must be the hundredth time, Dash’s phone vibrates from the back seat.

“Maybe you should answer that. You can’t keep dodging him forever. What if he reports you as missing?” The thought worries me more than I let on. From what Dash has told me, his father is capable of almost anything.

He laughs and my stomach flutters at the dark sound. “And risk the negative press when someone leaks the story? I highly doubt it.”

“Well, I’m tired of hearing it buzz all day.” Shoving his battered copy of On the Road aside, I grab his phone from the back seat. How hard is it to switch the stupid thing off?

“Zoey, no!” Dash tries to grab the open clamshell, accidentally answering the call.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice plays through the car speakers, catching me completely off guard. My imagination runs wild, and the as-of-yet unseen “soulless creature” plagues my thoughts. “Dash?”

Panic flashes in his eyes as he reaches for the phone again, knocking it out of my hand in the process. He holds his breath as the device bounces off the leather, slides between my legs, and disappears under my seat.

He melts into his seat and closes his eyes. “Hi, Mom.”

“Do you know why your father is calling me? I’m not exactly his favorite person. Hell, I don’t even think I’m his favorite ex-wife.”

He sighs. “I’ve been dodging his calls.”

Her musical laugh trills down the line. “And you think avoiding him will solve anything? Surely you know better than that by now.”

“He’s pressuring me to come back, but . . .” He watches me from the corner of his eye as I fumble between my legs for the missing phone. “I can’t. Not yet. I made a promise.”

“Okay.” All traces of humor disappear from her voice. “Who is she, Clark?”

With the phone finally in my grasp, I lock my gaze on Dash and mouth the word, “Clark?”

His horrified expression sends me into a fit of hysterics.

“Is that her?” she asks. “Is she with you now?”

He curses under his breath, snatching the phone from my hand and disconnecting it from the Bluetooth before pressing it to his ear. The heated glare he levels my way could melt steel. A furious Dash is a sexy Dash.

Sinfully sexy.

“Yes. She’s right beside me.” He flushes crimson to the tips of his ears, then whispers into the phone. “I really don’t want to get into that right now. Can I call you later? Yes. I promise. Love you, too.”

He doesn’t say anything else for a long time, choosing, instead, to shoot searing glances at me as if he can’t decide where to bury my body.