Page 96 of Chasing Stardust

Sold my soul to the devil. His words replay in my mind.

Every fiber of my being yearns to believe him, but the truth won’t be ignored. “Maybe you’re more like your dad than I realized. What is it they say about the apple not falling far from the tree?”

His jaw tightens. “I’m nothing like my dad.”

“So, maybe, you’re like your mom, doing whatever it takes to get the story. Your entire family is a bunch of vultures. Why should I believe you’re any different?” A horrible thought bubbles up from somewhere deep. “The napkins. You’ve been scribbling secrets down since I met you. Have you been writing about me this whole time?”

Dash flinches as if I slapped him. “What? No!”

“What about your cards? And the Tesla? Were we ever really stranded?” I do a quick scan along the curb, hoping his betrayal doesn’t run that deep. Not that it matters anymore. “Never mind.”

Ignoring the relentless interrogation, I push past the circling sharks, determined to get as far from the feeding frenzy as possible.

“Zoey, wait!”

Dash matches my stride as I flee, easily catching up to me at the intersection. Outrunning him is impossible. He’s too fast. No matter which way I turn, he blocks my path, dipping his head to look me directly in the eyes.

“Let me explain. Please?” His eyes beg me to listen.

“What?” Cornered, I throw up my hands. “What could you possibly say to me that would change anything?”

Gaze locked on mine, he takes another step toward me. “You’re right. I’ve been keeping a secret from you, but it’s not what you think. It’s a career. A way for me to cut all those damn strings keeping me bound to a life I don’t want. I couldn’t risk anyone finding out. Not until I figured out what to do about my dad.”

I’d trusted him with everything, and he’d given me nothing in return. Vibrating with anger and on the verge of tears, I tear my gaze from his and stare at my filthy sneakers. Oh, the places they’ve seen. “I’ve heard all I need to hear.”

Between Dash’s looming presence and my erratic pulse thrumming in my ears, I don’t notice the sweaty, out-of-breath reporter approaching us until he shoves his phone in our faces.

“One question, Zoey!”

“Get that goddamned camera out of her face!” Dash knocks the guy’s phone from his hand, and it lands on the pavement with a crack.

The reporter scoops his broken device from the road, muttering a few choice obscenities as he drags his disgusting gaze from Dash to me. “Did Hammond sleep with you before or after he got the whole story?”

My lungs seize, expelling my last breath in a loud hiss. Icy dread washes over me as my stomach does a death spiral.

“Zoey, no,” Dash croaks, as if he’s finally choked on all his lies.

The reporter nods, and his mouth hooks to one side in a knowing grin. “Like mother, like son. He learned from the best.”

Bile crawls up my throat, and I swallow before I retch all over the sidewalk. Was I just a means to an end for him? A wave of panic washes over me, and I scan my surroundings for a way out. I’ll walk all the way to Hicksville if it comes to that. “I can’t be here anymore.”

Dash invades my personal space, his gaze riveted to mine as he cups my face in his hands, forcing me to make eye contact. “I know how bad this must look to you right now, but don’t listen to him. You know me. What happened between us was real. We’re real.”

“What color crayon, Dash?” My heart clenches as the fears I’d buried deep resurface. Were my instincts about him wrong? Could he have been red this whole time?

The firm grip on my face relaxes, and he backs up, his eyes drifting shut. “Zoey, please believe me. I didn’t—”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore.” I turn my back on him and head toward a small group of people waiting in front of the bus stop at the next light.

“Zoey! Please . . . stop.” Dash reaches for my arm, but I yank it away before he can get a good grip.

“Don’t. Touch. Me!” My skin tingles, the aching need to be close to him battling with the truth, staring me right in the face. “They knew about my mom’s cancer. And the diary. And us. How else would they know those things unless you told them?”

Dash’s mouth goes slack, his breaths coming out in shallow pants. “My mom. But I didn’t know she’d send reporters.”

“Oh, okay.” I roll my eyes and push forward. “As long as you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t mean—”