Bad Intentions (Bad Love #2)(72)

I was stupid for thinking I could have something real with Lo. These past few weeks, I thought something had shifted. I could almost feel the ice thawing inside me. But, nothing has changed. I’m still a fucking murderer. The guilt, the anxiety, the self-loathing…it’s all still there. Lo was just a Band-Aid. A distraction. And maybe that’s all she’s doing with me. Maybe we’re just using each other to escape reality. To feel good for once.

The only difference is, I deserve this life. Lo doesn’t.





* * *





“STILL NO WORD FROM DARE?” I ask Cordell and Matty. After dropping Jess off, I went straight to the shop, thinking Dare would be there early, like usual. I waited around for a while, but he never showed, so I went back home to see if he was there. No luck.

I didn’t think much of it. I told myself he’d show up when the shop opened, because I knew he had a twelve o’clock appointment. He never misses an appointment. But it’s now almost dark. His clients have come and gone, and still, no sign of Dare.

“Not since last night,” Matty answers, looking perplexed.

A knowing look passes over Cord’s face.

“What do you know?” I ask as unease pricks the back of my neck.

“I don’t know where he is,” he hedges.

“But…?”

“But this time of year, he always goes a little…quiet.” He’s being intentionally cryptic, and what started out as mild concern is quickly morphing into full-blown panic.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you should talk to him,” he says curtly, but his tone also has a hint of softness. I get the feeling that he wants to tell me, but his loyalty to Dare won’t allow it.

Just when I’m about to go check his spot in the pine trees, I hear the back door open. Three sets of eyes snap to the back room in time to see Dare staggering inside, leaving the door open behind him.

“Fuck,” Cord mutters under his breath.

“Is he…drunk?” I wonder out loud, as my heart starts hammering in my chest.

My phone rings, and I’m about to throw the damn thing against the wall when I see Private Caller. Again. I quickly answer, too angry to keep letting this go on. “Don’t fucking call me again or I’m filing a restraining order on you like I should’ve done months ago.” I hang up the phone, in a hurry to get to Dare, but it buzzes in my hand with a text a second later.

Eric: A piece of paper isn’t going to keep me away from you.

I shove my phone into my back pocket, too worried about Dare to wonder if Eric’s threats are empty. Cordell seems to be on the phone, whispering quietly to someone. Matty gives me a nod of encouragement before he follows me to the back of the shop. He stops in the doorway, letting me know he’s there if I need him, but I’m not worried about me.

I find Dare in the drawing room, sitting at his desk, disheveled black hair has fallen in front of his eyes. “Is my client here?” His voice sounds like he’s swallowed glass, and he smells like whiskey.

“You missed all your appointments,” I say softly, and some instinct has me walking toward him as if I’m approaching a wild animal. “Where were you?”

He finally looks up at me, his icy eyes bloodshot and broken as he gives me a cold, dead stare. “You should leave.”

My throat feels thick and my stomach rolls at his words.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, afraid to hear his answer.

I move closer, but I pause when he yells, “Just go home, Logan!”

I stand, frozen in a mixture of shock and sadness, but something in the back of my mind whispers that I knew this would happen. I knew it was too good to be true. I just don’t know why.

“We both knew this wasn’t going to last,” he says, echoing my thoughts, his voice lower but no less detached.

“Yeah.” I nod. “I guess we did. But you’re clearly fucked up, and I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.” Dare has employed me, protected me, sheltered me, and loved me even when I fought it. Even if this is the end for us, I’m not walking away from him.

I grab the first aid kit off the supply shelf behind me before walking over to where Dare sits, dropping to my knees in front of him. His knuckles are bloody and appear to have pieces of bark protruding from the torn skin. He doesn’t object when I take his hand in mine.

“So you were in the woods,” I say, more to myself, as I pull the splinters of bark out and clean the cuts with an antiseptic wipe. His elbows rest on his knees, hands hanging down as I work. He doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t even look at me.

Once I finish, I sit with my palms on top of my thighs, waiting for him to say something—anything. I can’t see his eyes with the way his hair falls in front of them, and I have the urge to brush the inky black strands away. Using one finger, I do just that, and his scowl deepens, eyes clenching shut, almost as if my touch causes him physical pain.

“What happened to you?” I try once more. Yesterday, I had a boyfriend who would move mountains for me. Who couldn’t keep his hands off me. Today, he doesn’t even want me near him.

Dare stands abruptly, his chair rolling into the wall behind him, then storms out of the drawing room without a word. I stand and walk back into the main room. Cord has Dare by the shoulders, trying to get him to focus on what he’s saying, and I’m surprised to see Asher and Camden, Cordell’s brother, coming toward me.