by Aly Stiles
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about those few moments we had together. The rush when I touched him. My fingers tingle for another hit. Does he have any idea how addictive he is?
Once the others are gone, I open the door, my heart racing when Ashton looks up and lands that gorgeous stare on me.
“Hey, friend,” I say, moving toward him.
His smile is more genuine today, and I’m relieved to see he’s looking sturdier as well.
“Your back any better?” I ask.
“Yeah, thanks. How’s your day going?”
He wipes his hands on his shorts and straightens in acknowledgement of my presence. Politely, I notice, which I don’t like one bit. I love that he’s polite, just not toward me. I want more than that from him, the side he wouldn’t share with his customers at the restaurant table.
“Pretty good. Getting ready to eat lunch. You?” I ask.
His pleasant smile spreads into sly. “Why do I think you already know the answer to that?”
I match his grin and shrug. “Maybe I’m tired of eating alone every day and was hoping for company.”
He looks away, still smiling. After a pause, he squints back at me. “Was the entire pool house thing just so we could have Lane-approved lunch together?”
I can’t tell if he’s joking, so I’m not sure how to respond. I decide on the truth. “No. I just didn’t like the idea of you all being stuck out here with no way to get a break from the heat or use a bathroom. Seems stupid when there’s both right there. The lunch thing was just an added bonus.”
I add a bonus smile as well.
His smile falters, however, as he considers my response. This look isn’t polite, but I’m not sure it’s a reaction I want either. It’s strange how sometimes he wears his heart on his sleeve and other times I can’t read a single thing in him. Yet another mystery about Ashton I want to understand.
“It does save me a lot of time,” he says finally, the cloud on his face clearing. My pulse picks up at the implication, the hope that maybe he’s feeling some of this strange connection we have as well. My heart downright explodes when he turns back and eyes my empty hands. “Where’s yours?”
My grin breaks, and I retreat toward the door. “Just inside. Meet you in the pool house?”
He glances at the building, and I exhale with relief when he nods. “Sure.”
That’s all I need to hear before I’m darting inside to retrieve the lunch I’d packed just in case this happened. I rush back outside, surprised to find him still standing in the same spot.
“You didn’t have to wait,” I say, joining him on the patio.
We start toward the building, and something warms inside me. This is far from a date, but suddenly all I can think about is what it’d be like if it were. To be free to reach over and loop my arm around his and entwine our fingers. I’d tug a little, leaning my head on his shoulder as we walked. It’s such a strange thought, and yet I seem to have it often when we’re together.
But there’s nothing in his demeanor that tells me he’s thinking the same thing. If anything, I fear we’re back to polite status as he pushes through the door to the pool house and holds it open for me. Does he really want me here or is he just obliging me? The last thing I want is to be obliged by this man.
“Did you work at the restaurant last night?” I ask after he returns from cleaning up in the bathroom.
He shakes his head and joins me at the table. “No, but I work tonight.”
I nod, watching him as he pulls out the contents of his cooler. “That’s a lot, isn’t it? All day here in the sun, then all night running around the restaurant? When do you even sleep?”
It was meant as small talk, but when his gaze darkens, I regret the question. Then again, I don’t know how to tell what’s safe and what’s not if I don’t try.
“It’s fine. I’m used to it.” His tone says I’m being polite but it’s none of your business.
It’s not, I guess, although it seemed like a harmless question to me. That alone offers some clues.
“I’ve been spending most of my days reading boring textbooks,” I say, trying a new subject. I’d much rather talk about him, but he’s clearly not interested in that.
I’m relieved, and a bit surprised, when his face lights up. Guarded doesn’t begin to describe this guy, so it’s a strange contrast to the genuine interest he seems to have in others.
“Yeah? What are you studying?”
“This course is on leadership, but I’m working on a business administration degree. Have to take over the family empire,” I add, rolling my eyes.
He studies me as he chews, and I shove a spoonful of yogurt in my mouth to combat his probing look.
“You don’t want to take over the family business?” he asks finally, and I stiffen in my chair.
“What? Oh. Um. Of course I do.”
So why are my palms sweaty all of a sudden?
His eyes narrow, and I can tell he knows I’m lying. Am I lying? It never felt like such a blatant untruth until this moment.
“What do you want to do?” he asks.
I stare at him, not sure how to respond. Such a normal question that should have an easy answer. Most five-year-olds can answer that. So why can’t I? His sincere expression is completely blocking the rehearsed script I’m so used to reciting.
“I… that. Of course that.”
His face sinks into skepticism, and I look away.
How the heck did he do that? One question, one look, stripping away years of a narrative I’ve been too afraid to question. Because what do I want to do? I never sincerely considered that. I never had to because what I should want has been answered since I was a little girl.
But what if Dad didn’t expect me to follow in his footsteps? What if I were free to pursue anything? I shudder at the fact that I have no idea what I’d choose.
Leave it to some virtual stranger to disrupt my life-plan over a yogurt and sandwich.
He sighs and leans forward. “Look, it’s none of my business. Just…” Something flickers in his eyes as they settle on me. “If you have the option to go after a future you really want, don’t let false obstacles stand in your way. Trust me, there are enough real ones out there.”
He averts his gaze, and I wince at the sudden pinch in my chest.
It’s the way his stare hardens on his sandwich, the first hint at the story I so desperately want to know. What are the obstacles in his way? What’s the future he can’t have? My stomach rocks as I watch him fight some monster in his head, but I can’t bring myself to ask about it. If he doesn’t want to discuss his job, he’s definitely not going to share his secrets.
Plus, his words triggered that familiar nagging regarding my own path. Hearing myself out-loud just now made the doubt real in an alarming way. What was always a sigh of resignation to my fate is suddenly an icy chill inside me.
Am I putting false obstacles in my way? Am I accepting a future I don’t want because I’m too afraid to go after something better? How much of my life consists of what it’s supposed to be and not what it could be?
I glance back at Ashton who innocently resumes his lunch, having no idea he just blew up my identity.
“Um… hang on. Who is Sabrina?” I pluck Dad’s phone off the counter before he can intercept.
His immediate smile tells me Sabrina is exactly who I think she is.
“No one,” he says, motioning for me to hand it over.
I reach across my takeout container and drop it into his palm.
“So no one wants to know if you’re still on for tomorrow night?” I arch my brows and give him a knowing look.
He grunts and shoves lettuce around his bowl. “Sabrina might be a woman I met when I was in Toronto at that conference who happens to be in town tomorrow.”
I smirk and chew through another bite of my Caesar salad. “Yeah? And when might I get to meet this mystery woman?”
His lopsided grin makes me laugh. “We’
ll see. It’s still early.” His smile fades. “It’s been a while for me. I’m still trying to figure it all out,” he says quietly.
I sigh and grow serious. “We all miss June, Daddy, but I think it’s great that you’re getting out there again.”
A weak smile creases his face before he stares back at his salad.
“What about you?” he asks finally, clearly trying to change the subject.
It’s always hard for him to talk about his long-term girlfriend who lost her battle with breast cancer three years ago. She was like a mother to me as well, having been in my life since I was four. It was her love of helping people that initially attracted my father and ended up influencing my own instinct to pay attention to the world around me and try to make it a better place. We both credit June with carving out a big portion of our hearts and leaving a lasting impact on so many people. I’m not sure why they never got married, but that didn’t stop her from being an integral part of our family.
I totally get why he doesn’t want to have that discussion in the same conversation as a new love interest, but my non-existent romantic life might not be much better.
“Eh.” I push a slice of grilled chicken in my mouth to buy time and try to ignore the sudden flash of amusement on Dad’s face.
“Eh? That’s it? What happened to that other guy? Mr. Our Souls Are Connected?”
The chicken stalls in my throat, and I need extra force to get it down. He remembers that conversation? Crap.
“Nothing. I mean, he’s still around. And I never said I liked him like that.” Dad gives me a look, and I grunt. “Okay, fine. Maybe I did like him.”
“So you’re not interested anymore?”
I shrug, hoping he’ll accept a gesture since I know my voice won’t pull off a lie right now. When his gaze narrows, I sigh. “No. I mean, yeah, I am. He just doesn’t seem to be interested, I guess.”
That must surprise him because he does his arm-cross-lean-forward thing. “Wait, are you trying to tell me there’s a heterosexual human male that’s not interested in one of the most amazing women on the planet?”
“Dad!” I snort a laugh. “Whatever.”
He grins and straightens. “This guy must be stupid. That’s all I’m saying.”
I flinch at that. I know he’s joking and just trying to make me feel better, but it feels wrong to let that comment linger in the air.
“No. He’s definitely not stupid. And that’s not it. I mean, I don’t think it’s that he doesn’t like me as a person.” I move more lettuce around, trying to piece together my thoughts. “It’s more like he doesn’t have room for me in his life.”
“Room for you?”
“Yeah. Not just me. Anyone. He’s… complicated.”
Dad leans back, scanning me in the soft lighting of the kitchen island. Thankfully, we left the hi-hats off this time.
“He’s busy?”
“Yes. But not the kind of busy we are. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like his existence is saturated, you know?” I shake my head and straighten. “Never mind. I’m not making any sense.”
“Explain it to me.”
My gaze shoots to his. He doesn’t usually press when I back off, which means he senses this must be more important than usual.
I swallow, not sure I even understand what I’m saying. Staring back at my salad, I try to sort through the whirlwind in my head.
“It’s like…” I look up again. “I’m twenty-one, right? I sit around reading my textbook, watching TV, going on a run, trying to decide what to do next in my day. I worry about stuff like what I’ll wear and when I should take my shower. Should I go out tonight with friends or stay in and watch a movie? I think about this guy all the time and watch my phone waiting for the next chance to see him.”
Heat flares in my chest and spreads up my neck at the direct attention from my father. I wish he were smiling or even teasing me about how stupid this sounds, but his serious expression makes me afraid he might be starting to understand. If Dad gets it too, then maybe it’s not in my head. Maybe what I’m feeling and sensing is real.
If so, I’m never going to be able to let Ashton go.
“He can’t be much older than I am, Daddy,” I breathe out finally, meeting his gaze again. “And yet, it feels like he’s ancient. Like he would never consider any of those things. As if he can’t because his level of existence is completely different than mine.”
“It probably is,” Dad says gently.
I suck in a breath, my heart cracking for some reason. “So what do I do? How do you reach someone in another world?”
He quiets for a moment, his sad eyes settling on me. “You can’t, Iris. You can’t force anyone to journey into your world, and from what you’re saying, he probably couldn’t if he wanted to. If you want this person in your life, you’re going to have to force your way into his.”
Chapter Five
ASHTON
I’m more prepared for lunch today, maybe even looking forward to it. As resistant as I was to the idea in the beginning, I have to say I’m enjoying the little reprieves. It’s not just the break from the sun and hard labor; it’s the break from my life those few minutes have been. For a half hour it’s like I get to be a kid in his early twenties again. Just a guy chatting with a cute girl. Joking, laughing, maybe even flirting a little, but never enough to risk something more dangerous.
Because I’m not naïve. I know there is nothing in my future that involves Iris Alexander.
I looked it up on my break at Shelton’s the other day and Iris is considered a royal flower that signifies Faith and Hope. I’m not sure there’s a better name for that woman, even if it illustrates even more clearly why this friendship we’re forming makes no sense. I still don’t understand why she wants to waste time with me, but I’m fully aware that the second this project is over, I’ll be going back to hunting air conditioning and she’ll go back to whatever princess lunch she has in her gilded flower castle. She said she was tired of eating alone, and I guess I can see how I’d be better company than abject boredom.
Today she’s looking particularly flower-like as she pops out the back door with her lunch bag and bright smile. I smile back, trying not to notice the tiny shorts and tight tee she’s wearing. Her hair is braided in two French braids down the sides and back of her head, making her look even younger and more carefree. A slight ache lands in my chest at the thought that we should be heading to the beach for a picnic, not crossing a half-constructed patio for a short lunch break.
“How’s your day going?” she asks while we walk.
“Great. Those paver stones were really fitting together nicely this morning.”
She rolls her eyes and shoves into my shoulder.
“How about you?” I ask with a grin.
“Great. The precepts of corporate leadership were really fitting together nicely this morning.”
I snort a laugh, and it’s her turn for a mischievous smile.
“Wow. I’d love to hear more about it,” I tease.
She closes the door behind her, and we take our seats. “Only if you tell me all about fitting paver stones together. Which is your favorite shape to work with? Be honest!”
I laugh again and shake my head. This girl.
My humor fades into nervousness as I study the contents of my cooler. I’d meant it as a joke when I packed it this morning, but now, I don’t know. It feels stupid instead of funny. Whatever, I don’t want it to go to waste.
“Brought you something,” I say, before I lose my nerve.
She glances up, surprised, and I force in a breath. I pluck the plastic container and fork from the cooler and pass it to her.
“Thought you might like a taste of how the other half lives—literally.”
I look away as she stares at the dish, kicking myself. I let out a dry laugh to dismiss the gesture, but when I dare a look back at her face, there’s no smile. No amusement. Nothing but shock… and something else.
“I’m kidding, Iris. You don’t have to eat it,” I rush out, praying I’m not visibly blushing.
So stupid, Ashton. What were you thinking?
But instead of laughing in my face, she pulls off the lid with what almost looks like reverence. Confused, I stare at her as she studies the contents of the container.
“It’s boxed mac and cheese. Left over from dinner last night.” I force out a weak smile. “Figured you probably don’t get that very often.”
She still hasn’t said anything, and I feel like the biggest idiot on the planet. I wish I could disappear into the floor. If only—
“Thank you,” she says in a choked voice.
I look up, stunned to see she’s serious. Wait, are her eyes watering?
I avert my gaze again, now having no idea how to read what’s going on. They’re just some stupid noodles and she’s treating them like a sacred offering.
With another tight smile, I pull out my own lunch, while she digs into my weird gift.
“They’re better warm,” I mumble.
“They’re perfect,” she says, and I swallow the effect of her soft gaze. She can’t look at me like that. It turns this moment into something it’s not. Something it can’t, and never will, be.
I glance up again when she shoves a small round container in my direction as well.
“What’s this?” I ask.
This time there’s a smile poking through the emotion on her face. “I brought you something too.”
I pick up the small metal tin and almost choke. “Oh shit.”
She snickers. “You asked for it. Enjoy.”
I shake my head with a laugh. “Yeah but… what the hell do you even do with it?”
She shrugs. “Got me. I’ve never tried it.”
I study the can of caviar for another second before meeting her gaze with a glint. “Tomorrow. I’ll bring crackers.”
She grins back. “Perfect. It’s a date.”
“You’re cheating!” Braydon shouts, pointing at me.
“I’m not!” I laugh out. “I swear, Bray. It’s just luck.” He scowls at me as I move my piece an extra seven spaces.