Ashton Morgan: Apartment 17B (The Wreck Me Series)

by Aly Stiles

  By the time footsteps shuffle down the hall, my wrath has dulled into numbness. It makes me even sicker to think Ashton came home to this after that evening at my house. If I hadn’t convinced him to come over, if he’d been home like he wanted to be, would this have happened? Would he have been here to stop her and talk her out of this insanity? Is their mother’s abandonment kind of my fault?

  That also means Ashton was fresh from this gaping wound when he got struck again at work on Thursday. The thought spears another wave of revulsion through me. That asshole at the restaurant had no idea what his victim was already going through when he took out his anger on him.

  Why can’t people just be freaking decent to each other?

  I already hid the note under the pile on the counter, so all I have to worry about as Braydon approaches is fixing a bright smile on my face and hiding all evidence of this travesty. Since I don’t know what Ashton told his brother, I will continue the rest of the day as if I never saw that note.

  “Miss Iris!” Braydon says, his eyes lighting up as he enters wearing dinosaur pajamas.

  “Hey, Braydon! I’m looking forward to spending the day with you. How about you just call me Iris?” I say with a smile.

  He grins and nods. “Okay. And you can call me Bray.”

  “Perfect. You want some breakfast?”

  He shrugs, then shakes his head. “Not yet. Can we watch TV first? Ashton always lets me watch TV in the morning.”

  Damn. Going in for the con right out of the gate.

  “Really,” I say skeptically. “Somehow I think that’s not true.”

  He tests my resolve for another second before scowling in defeat. “Fine.”

  “You get two hours for the entire day, and since it’s going to be a long one, I’d save it if I were you. How about we read a book instead?”

  He taps his chin in quite the dramatic display of reflection as he considers my idea. “Okay. I’ll go get my superhero book.”

  “Great. Meet you on the couch!” I call after him.

  I move to the living room to wait for him, hesitating when I approach the sofa. A blanket is folded neatly on the back with a bed pillow resting on top. I glance at the end table that has a prescription medication bottle, phone charger, and pair of glasses, along with a half-empty cup of water. Basically, it looks like the nightstand by my bed.

  “Hey, does someone sleep here?” I ask Bray when he returns with the book.

  “Yep. Ashton.”

  I ignore the sudden cramp in my stomach and nod. “He sleeps on the couch?”

  “No, not like that. It’s a cool pull-out bed. Want to see?”

  “Sure.”

  I force a smile and help him remove the cushions so we can yank out the frame and mattress beneath them. Well, not so much a mattress as a lumpy sliver of cushion that might be slightly thicker than a sleeping bag. No wonder that boy doesn’t sleep.

  “See? And then in the morning, you just put it back in and it’s a couch again!” Bray explains smugly.

  “Huh. That’s pretty neat. Thanks for showing me. Okay, you ready to read?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  ASHTON

  After climbing in my truck to head home, I stare at the photo for the hundredth time today. Iris and Bray make goofy faces into the lens with some white substance that I’m hoping is flour dusted over their faces. It actually makes my heart clench in my chest to see them together. Bray so happy. Iris… god, Iris.

  That girl is going to wreck me, but I can’t seem to stay away. She’s certainly not making it easy by constantly showing up to save the day every time my life turns to shit again. I smirk at the memory of the “shit” conversation with her father. He had no idea how prophetic his words really were. Or maybe he did? It wasn’t hard to see where Iris got her amazing spirit from after getting to know her father. It makes me happy to know she’s got someone like that in her life.

  I send her a message letting her know I’m about to head back and will pick up something for dinner. There’s this place down the street from our building that does cheap subs on Saturdays before five. Because I got out so early, I should be able to make it if I hurry. Bray loves what he calls their turkey bomb. It’s basically a turkey sandwich with bacon, lettuce, and tomato, but yeah, “bomb” sounds way cooler.

  At a light, I scan a response from Iris telling me not to stop because they already have dinner in the works.

  Huh. Interesting.

  Guess that’s good and will give me extra time to get ready before my shift tonight. Plus, Iris making me dinner? Even if it’s just a pretend date in my head, it’s something worth celebrating.

  I crank the music, feeling light for the first time in days. I still don’t know what I’m going to do about tomorrow, but today is actually coming together nicely.

  I pull into our lot, grab my cooler and thermos, and slide to the ground. Locking my truck, I walk at a brisk pace, eager to see how Iris and Bray are doing. Not to mention, learn the state of my kitchen after whatever flour war went on in there. I push through the door to our apartment and smile at the amazing smells wafting through the air. Shutting the door, I start toward the kitchen and hesitate, my smile fading.

  Something isn’t right.

  I glance around the room, trying to place what’s off, and then I figure it out. The room is brighter than it should be. Much brighter than what the small lamp by the TV typically emits. Confused, I search the space to find a tall floor lamp in the far corner of the room. Weird. Where did that come from?

  I shake it off and keep moving. I can ask Iris about it later.

  When I enter the kitchen my heart practically explodes at the image of Iris Alexander hovering by my range like she belongs there. I get a flash of a future I want so badly, followed by the sharp pain that always follows delusions like that. She glances over with a start, then settles into a huge grin.

  “You’re home. Here, try this.”

  She comes over with a spoon and shoves it in my mouth.

  I cringe and swallow it. “Hot,” I explain. “But delicious. What is it?”

  “It’s broccoli cheese soup. I’ve also got bread in the oven to go with it. So here’s my thought. Bray only really likes mac and cheese, right?”

  “Right?” I say skeptically.

  “So look. Noodles.” She plucks a noodle from the spoon. “And cheese.” She leans close with a conspiratorial glint. “Plus broccoli, but let’s hope we can sneak that by him.”

  “Good luck with that,” I say through a laugh.

  I toss my lunch dishes and thermos in the sink to wash later and go to the fridge to grab a sports drink. I’ve learned it helps to replenish some of the fluids I lost during the day in the sun before tackling my long shift at night.

  I open the door and blood drains from my face.

  The inside is crammed from wall to wall. Produce, beverages, and all kinds of assorted packaged foods line the shelves. I’ve never seen this appliance so full in the entire ten years we’ve lived here. I can’t even see my drink bottles.

  “Um, what is this?” I ask.

  Iris glances over with a shrug. “Just picked up some stuff.” She returns to the stove like nothing happened.

  I blink at the contents again before shutting the door and ripping open the top freezer. That’s packed too. I move to the cabinet beside the fridge. Also stocked. By now I’ve gotten her attention with my parade around the room. When I get to the dishes, I wince and step back. She even bought more dishes for us? What the fuck? I said she could get some lunch shit, not re-stock our entire apartment.

  Blood pounds in my head as I scrub at my face and fight to stay calm. She meant well. I have to remember she wasn’t trying to insult me. She doesn’t know what it’s like to work for every damn thing you have, even if it’s practically nothing. That having nothing is better than someone telling you what you do have isn’t good enough.

  I pull in a deep breath, massaging my temples as I try to figure out ho
w to deal with this.

  “Ash?” I jump when she touches my arm. “Are… are you mad?”

  I can’t look at her. I don’t want her to see the hurricane rushing through me at the moment. I so desperately don’t want to hurt her but…

  “I—I’m gonna go check on Bray,” I force out, stalking past her.

  I feel like an asshole when I catch the injured expression on her face. God, she was so excited about her stupid soup—and now I realize probably “surprising me” with what she’d done. But I don’t want to be her fucking charity project. I’ve worked too hard, suffered too much to be someone’s reason to pat themself on the back.

  Bray looks up from the floor when I enter his room, a bright smile on his face.

  “Look what I’m making!” he says, jumping up to show me the beginning stages of what looks like the hull of a ship constructed out of miniature toy bricks.

  I scan the room in alarm, my stomach rolling at the sight of a large box with a picture of an impressive-looking pirate ship and several accessories. That brick set must have cost at least two hundred dollars. I know because I wanted to get it for him last Christmas and couldn’t afford it. He got stuck with the smaller fifty-dollar version.

  Emotion burns in my chest, rising to my throat. He’s so happy. Always so happy with the things I can’t give him. I press the heels of my palms to my eyes.

  “That’s great, buddy,” I manage, my voice wavering.

  “Iris got it for me! Oh and look what else!” He runs over and pulls several smaller objects from a bag, still in the packaging. “Master Bladers! All four colors!”

  I feel like I’ve been smashed in the stomach as I study the toys I’ve already started saving for since he first mentioned them the other day. They really were called Master Bladers when I looked them up. Not sure how that one made it through the focus groups.

  “Wow.” I clear my throat after the word comes out choked. “Hey, I’ll be right back.”

  I back out of his room, close the door, and rush into the bathroom. Turning on the shower I sink onto the closed toilet to regroup. Tears flood my eyes. Violent, traitorous tears that I don’t even understand. I can’t tell if I’m angry or hurt or just fucking embarrassed that the girl I like thinks I’m so shit at caring for us she has to buy us food.

  I pull in a ragged breath, struggling to regain control. I’ve been through hell this past year. How can something so stupid be the thing that finally breaks me?

  I strip and step into the shower, sinking to the floor where I can secure my arms around my knees and let the warm water wash over me. It helps me to breathe when I sit like this. Creates a safe space between my legs and my chest where I can hide and pull in a few cautious breaths, comforted in the embrace of warm water. For a couple short minutes, I’m less exposed to a world intent on breaking me.

  Because I’m trying. I’m trying so damn hard. I don’t know what else I can give since apparently it’s still not enough. Never enough. My fingers grip my hair, the pounding shower soothing my back as it rains down its protective flood. Another layer to hide me for one more precious minute.

  A wave of cold air rushes over me, and I glance through the half-open curtain to see Iris in the doorway, steam siphoning around her and escaping into the hall. She stares at me with a tortured look on her face, her fingers cinched around the knob. I can’t look at her like that—the harsh evidence that we don’t belong together—and bury my face in my arms again. She must retreat because I hear the door click shut a moment later.

  Except she lowers herself beside the tub instead.

  Her hand tightens around my arm, and I jerk away. I can’t think straight when she touches me, and heaven knows my mind is already a total shitstorm. The smell of her, the heat of her, just being near her makes me believe things I can’t afford to believe, want things I can’t have. Hope for things I’ve learned time and again not to hope for. I never should have invited her into our lives. I should have just stayed her fucking servant.

  “I’m sorry,” she says over the roar of the shower.

  It’s hard to hear her, but maybe it’s better that way. Maybe the harder it is to talk the less words we’ll have to say. I don’t have any right now. Definitely none I’m willing to say out loud.

  “You do so much for me,” she continues. “I just wanted to do something for you.”

  I fire a glare, her face distorted through angry streams and angrier tears. “I’m fucking paid to do those things for you,” I choke out through a sob.

  She flinches, her heart shattering all over her face as she stares at me in numb shock.

  “Ashton,” she whispers, tears flooding her own eyes.

  I can’t hear her soft voice over the water this time. I only see my name on her lips. Her head shakes slowly from side to side as she studies me with an incredulous look. Like some truth just exploded in her head and wrecked her.

  “Oh my god. You think…?”

  She launches into the tub, clothes and all, lunging toward me under the water before I can react. I have no choice but to catch her or she’d go crashing into one of the hard surfaces crowding this small space.

  I don’t know what to do as she breaks down against me. Her tears assaulting the front of my naked body while the shower continues to beat against my back. This entire situation is messed up from top to bottom. Why is she the one crying? Shit, did I hurt her that badly with my reaction? I must have. I’m such a dick. More reasons for her to stay away.

  “No, I’m sorry,” I say, my anger finally lifting enough to manage this latest crisis. None of this is her fault. “Hey, I know you were just trying to be nice.”

  She reels back, anger like I’ve never seen on her burning through the tears on her face.

  “You’re sorry?!” she snaps.

  “Yes, I should have—”

  She shoves me. Hard.

  And again.

  And again.

  “Stop! Iris, stop!” I call out, capturing her against my chest.

  I hold on as she struggles against me and releases a cry of frustration when she can’t get free. She continues to try, though, and it’s everything I can do to hang onto her so she doesn’t hurt me or herself. After several long seconds that feel like hours, she either tires or gives up the fight. I let her go when I’m sure she’s not going to attack again.

  Her eyes still slap me, though. Fire blazes hot and radiant in those dark blue irises.

  “You are so damn stupid, Ashton Morgan,” she hisses. “Why can’t you ever let yourself accept what’s right in front of you?”

  Surprised, I straighten and stare back in confusion.

  “You think I do all this stuff because you make my pool look pretty and serve me meals at a restaurant?” she cries.

  Tears stream down her cheeks as she glares at me, hair plastered to the side of her face through the curtain of water.

  “You think I do it because I feel sorry for you?”

  Her finger stabs into my shoulder as she leans close, gaze digging into my soul.

  “No, Ashton. I do it because you make every minute I get with you a freaking gift. Do you have any idea what I see when I look at you? I feel like I’m exploding whenever I’m near you. Like if I could just touch you everything else would be okay. That’s why I do it, Ash. That’s why.”

  And our lips collide.

  I don’t know who moves first, maybe neither of us as we’re drawn together by the magnetic pull we can’t seem to resist. Ash and Iris forming into a beautiful, deadly tornado that will destroy both of us. Because I can’t do this without her. Because kissing her is like breathing, and when she whispers my name and grips my hair in her hands, I know I’m done.

  She climbs onto my lap, the water still streaming over our heads, baptizing our union in some twisted blessing. I can’t get enough of her, angling her head to deepen the kiss until both of us are panting and sucking water into our lungs.

  She pulls back, her hands still clutching the sides
of my face as she chokes out the water and regains her breath. When she looks back, I see something different than the exasperation from a second ago. Different from the pity and even the genuine compassion she so typically wears.

  I see love.

  I see want.

  I see myself how she sees me and it fucking hurts like hell.

  “Ash,” she whispers.

  “Iris,” I whisper back.

  “Let me love you. Please let me love you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  IRIS

  I can’t stop thinking about the kiss. Seriously, I’m ridiculous as I pace the living room, waiting for Ashton to get back from his shift.

  After putting Braydon to bed, I tried browsing on my phone, reading my textbook, even watching TV, but nothing could hold my attention for more than a couple of minutes. All my brain seems to want to do is replay those few moments of ecstasy when I was kissing the man of my dreams—who also happened to be naked. Let’s not overlook the effect of a naked image of Ashton Morgan on the psyche.

  Or the pain of indulged lust cut short.

  With the trauma of the situation, Bray across the hall, and the pressure of the clock, our heated encounter had to cool almost immediately after that one kiss. And now those few seconds I had him in my possession torture me.

  My skin still tingles from touching him. My lips buzz with lingering electricity from their collision with his. Being kissed by Ashton is like being caught in a riptide. Sucked in, dragged under, begging to drown in endless depth and never wanting to come up for air. Until I had to—literally. That’s when the words burst out on their own, terrifying in their rash honesty.

  Let me love you.

  Who says that to a guy they’ve known for a couple of weeks? Even scarier, I didn’t want to take it back. No, I let that strange plea hang between us. Forced him to confront the enormity of what I wanted from him and with him. The true extent of everything I’m willing to give back.

  He didn’t respond except to return a devastating stare that gave me hope he might be coming around. But that’s where we left things. That’s when I got up, grabbed a towel from the stack on the shelf above the toilet, and took my dripping wet self out of his way.