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

by Aly Stiles

  I don’t like the way his jaw clenches. He knows I understand, right? Oh well, we can argue about that later. We don’t have any time to waste right now.

  I take his hand and lift it between us, aligning our palms. The cloud on his face dissolves at the image of our hands melded together. With a slight shift, I weave our fingers into a knot.

  “Guess what?” I say coyly.

  That heart-stopping smile returns. “What?”

  I bite my lip and blink up at him. “I’ve got an empty bedroom and plenty of supplies.” His smile spreads into a grin I feel in every recess of my body. Five more minutes and I will get to taste it again. Own it and adore it.

  “Now, I know you’re going to want to clean up first, that’s why my plan—”

  “What are you doing inside the house? We’re not paying you to mess around with my sister.”

  Our gazes snap to the hostile voice, and my stomach drops at Ivy’s cold stare.

  “He’s not on the clock,” I snap back. “They’re done for the day.”

  “Really? And who’s going to clean up the mess he leaves on our white floors?”

  I wince, anger radiating through me. I’m about to fly at her, when our dad hisses, “Ivy!”

  My sister spins around in shock, visibly shrinking at Dad’s stern look. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “But Dad! He’s—don’t you know who he is? He’s clearly taking advantage—”

  “Now, Ivy!” Dad says, face red. “I’m sorry, Ashton,” he adds in a calmer voice. Ashton looks away, and I want to throw up at the expression on his face.

  “Wait, you’re choosing him over me? He’s nothing but a—”

  “Ivy Alexander, if you finish that sentence, you will have more than a conversation to deal with,” Dad warns. “My office. Now.” He points down the hall, and Ivy tosses up her hands with a screech before stomping away. Dad offers an apologetic look before taking off after her.

  Crap. Could that have gone any worse? The answer is no when I turn and find Ashton heading back to the door.

  Panic courses through me as he yanks it open with a violent jerk.

  “Wait, where are you going?” I cry, rushing after him.

  He doesn’t look at me as he pulls on his boots.

  “I have to get Braydon, like I said,” he says in a rough voice.

  “But what about—”

  He takes my arms. “Iris, not now, okay? I’ll call you.”

  I shake my head, completely numb as he starts away. “Ashton, please! You saw what happened. My dad is fine with—”

  He turns and fires a look so dark I stutter back a step. “I can’t. I just can’t right now... I’ll call you later.”

  He storms off, and I have no choice but to watch him flee toward his blackhole without me.

  Inside, I hear echoes of the shouting match coming from Dad’s office. I thought it’d feel good to listen to my sister get a long overdue scolding from our father, but the conflict only fuels my nausea.

  A persistent chill of disappointment floods through me during my climb up the stairs toward my room. Which leads to longing. Which leads to bitterness and confusion. Maybe I’m actually kind of mad at Ashton this time. I get that Ivy’s reaction was horrible, but he knows Dad and I don’t feel that way. He even got to see my father stand up for him. If that’s not a testimony to the fact that he’s been welcomed into this family, I don’t know what is. What else can we do to prove to him he belongs?

  He’s the one who pointed out we’re going to have to get used to unfair judgment, and yet the first time we face it after his warning, he bolts. Is this going to be our entire relationship? Me trying to convince him to stay? That he’s more important than any of the arbitrary factors he insists are keeping us apart? I’ve fought so hard for him. I don’t know what else I can do when most of the demons we’re fighting are hidden in his head.

  Dropping to my bed, I grab a pillow to cover my face. I don’t even cry this time, my thoughts too muddled to settle on a reaction. Maybe he’s been right all along. Maybe it can’t work between us, but not because my world won’t accept him—because he can’t accept himself. I realize with a sick feeling that our problem isn’t that I’m too much. It’s that I’m not enough. My love, my strength, my words will never fill the void in him no matter how hard I try to prove his worth.

  Only Ashton can convince Ashton that even though he has nothing, he deserves everything. Until then, I’m just another heartbroken spectator on his journey.

  I assume the knock at my door an hour later is Dad, but it’s Ivy who slinks in and closes it behind her. I burst upright, my stomach tightening as she approaches the bed.

  “What do you want?” I ask, not even trying to hide my resentment.

  “Relax, sis. I just came to apologize.” But her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. If anything, her stare is colder than it was earlier.

  “I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” I return, hugging the pillow against my chest as I observe her rigid pose. It feels like I’m using the pillow like a shield.

  Clue number two that something isn’t right.

  She sighs. “I know. Can you give me his number? I’d like to call him.”

  I snort a laugh, and her face flashes with familiar indignation. “No way.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “Then how do you propose I apologize to him?”

  “Not my problem,” I say with a shrug.

  Her jaw ticks, the fingers of her right hand clenching into a fist at her side. Yeah, no way she’s here out of the goodness of her heart. My guess? Dad threatened her with a freeze on her allowance until she made things right. I have zero interest in helping her accomplish that. All I have to do is think about the look on Ashton’s face when those vile words came out of her mouth to know she deserves way worse than a few weeks of frugality.

  “Can I ask you something?” I say, keeping my voice neutral, inquisitive even. Maybe this question isn’t just to punish her. Maybe part of me is actually curious. “I’m not trying to be a jerk. I really want to know because I can’t understand it. What is it that makes you think you’re better than Ashton and have the right to treat him that way?”

  She stiffens, her face going dark. When she doesn’t respond, I push up and scan her with disgust in the same way I’ve seen her do so many times.

  “That’s what I thought. You can’t even answer that, can you? Because you know there is no answer. There is nothing that gives you the right to look down on someone else.”

  “He clearly has bad taste in women,” she spits, and I’d laugh if there was any humor left in me.

  “So basically you’re just jealous. You wanted him but couldn’t have him so now you’re just trying to hurt him.” I cross my arms, smug as her face reddens and her mind scrambles for a retort.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she growls.

  “No? Well, then I feel sorry for you. You’re going to miss out on a lot of amazing people if you can’t figure out how to screw your heart in straight.”

  “Whatever, bitch,” she huffs, pushing up from the bed. Her eyes flash when they rest on me, sending a chill down my spine. “Enjoy your fairytale romance. Too bad we live in the real world.”

  She storms off and slams my door, thus ending the worst apology in the history of apologies.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ASHTON

  I feel terrible for how I left things with Iris, but in that moment, the last thing I felt like doing was having sex with her while her father and sister fought about whether or not I was a piece of pond scum. Even worse was the fact that Iris couldn’t understand that. That she acted like what happened was nothing.

  She keeps insisting she understands me, but I know, deep down, she doesn’t. She can’t. It’s not her fault, but she can’t. If our relationship is ever going to work, it won’t be because we finally understand each other’s worlds. It will be because we accept that we can’t and trust the other
to navigate their side of the planet. Lead and follow. Follow and lead. I’ve accepted that, but it’s becoming more and more evident that she can’t. She wants me to join her universe, not step into mine.

  I’ve just put Braydon to bed a little after eight when my phone rings with a call from Lane. Assuming it’s instructions for tomorrow, I put him on speaker as I start on the dishes.

  “Hey, man. What’s up? New address for me?” I say, grabbing the sponge.

  He doesn’t respond, and I check the screen to see if maybe I messed up the buttons. “Speaker” is definitely highlighted.

  “Lane? You there?”

  “Yeah. Look…”

  My chest tightens at his strange tone. I dry my hands on my shirt and pick up the phone to transfer back to a regular call.

  “Lane? What’s wrong? What is it?”

  I can’t breathe when he hesitates again.

  “Ashton, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just gonna lay it out. I won’t need you to come in tomorrow.”

  Stunned, I drop to a chair, my pulse pounding erratically through my veins.

  “What… what do you mean? You have enough guys for this one? You… won’t need me until Monday?” My voice is shaking. Oh god. My stomach already knows what he means. My head. My throat that suddenly clamps shut.

  No, Lane. Please don’t do this! Please, please, please.

  He lets out a heavy sigh that makes me want to puke. “As in, I won’t need you at all anymore. I’m sorry, son. It’s not going to work out.”

  My lungs feel like they’re collapsing. I can’t speak, can’t move as I stare at the opposite wall in numb shock.

  “Look, you do good work. I’m going to put a little extra in your final check to help you out. I just… This business is all I have. I have to make the best decision for my family and the other guys. I know you understand.”

  No. Fucking no, I don’t understand!

  “What…” My voice is choked and weak. “What did I do? Is this about the text?”

  “Huh? What text? Never mind, doesn’t matter. No, it’s… Look, as your friend I’m going to be straight with you because this could get worse for you. The client’s daughter said you’ve been harassing her, even propositioned her—”

  “What?!” My fist pounds on the table. I’m trembling now, full-on quaking. My fist throbs from its collision with the table as I shove it into my hair. “Lane, come on. You know me. You know that’s not true!”

  “It honestly doesn’t matter if it’s true. I can’t have that kind of liability and headache on my books. I’m not picking a fight with the damn Alexanders, Ashton. Not even for you.”

  “Lane, please don’t do this! Please.” I don’t even care that I’m crying. God, I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Tears burn hot and heavy in my eyes, my lungs now a steel block. I can’t even drag in enough air to continue begging.

  “I’m sorry, son. I really am.”

  The regret in his voice brings no comfort. Not when a world you thought couldn’t crush you any more insists on proving you wrong yet again. “Sometimes life isn’t fair. I know you understand that better than anyone. Feel free to use me as a reference.”

  He hangs up, and I throw my phone with a strangled cry.

  I lie awake the entire night. My eyes sting as I stare unblinking at the ceiling until the sheer agony of exposure forces them closed. They don’t get soothed by tears, though. No, I’ve expelled all of those. There’s nothing left in me now. Not in my eyes, not in my heart, not in my cold dead soul. There’s no point to me anymore other than a vehicle to keep my brother alive for as long as possible. And I’m not even sure I can do that now.

  My chest constricts at the injustice of it all. The part that hurts the most is my own stupidity for not seeing it coming. People who aren’t used to consequences aren’t used to considering them. Ivy probably wanted to hurt me in retaliation for the blowup with her father, not realizing she’d be putting a kid on the street. Making him go hungry.

  I choke again at the thought of our stocked cabinets. How Iris’ gift could keep my brother from starving for a while. If I’m careful, conserve and reduce my own consumption, we should be okay until I can find something else.

  By some rare miracle, my phone survived its collision with the wall, suffering just a cracked screen and chip in the case. I could laugh at the irony that my phone has better luck than I do. Certainly more hope. Regardless, I was able to message Stacie and ask for more shifts until I can get back on my feet. I still haven’t heard back.

  Back on my feet.

  I press my fists to my eyes with a harsh laugh. Back on my feet. Right. I was never on my feet.

  I’ve been scratching through the dirt on my hands and knees for as long as I can remember, and the worst part? I knew Iris’ world would break me. Knew this ridiculous fairytale would end in flames because I’m expendable in a way she can never understand.

  And yet, I still let her tempt me with lies she didn’t know she was telling. I don’t blame her for any of it. She has the luxury to fool around with pretty speeches and prettier promises. She’s not the one who lives on this side of reality. Her world is rainbows and second chances. Her stakes are hurt feelings and broken hearts, not the difference between having food on the table or ending up on the fucking street.

  I knew her world was poison for people like me and still I swallowed it with a smile on my face. Worse, I doubled down and took hit after hit until I was so high I started to believe I was flying. I have no one to blame but myself for not walking away from the temptation when I had the chance.

  My life may have been ugly, but we were surviving. I stepped a toe into her world and it chewed me up and spit me out, leaving the little I had in tatters. Not only that, my selfishness has put Braydon’s survival at risk as well. I still haven’t told him his mom abandoned him. How am I supposed to tell him we might end up homeless because his brother was too weak to listen to his brain? The brain that’s kept them alive for so long.

  Groaning, I massage my temples and try to figure out what to do next. My last check should get us through the next two weeks. I can apply for unemployment but even if I get it, that wouldn’t be enough to live on for long. Besides, in light of why I was let go, Lane might fight it, and I’d end up with nothing. Can I even qualify if I have what would be considered another full-time job at Shelton’s? I can’t afford to bank on that.

  I do the math in my head, trying to figure out how long we have until I miss rent. A month maybe. If I stop the interest payments on the loans altogether, maybe two. That gets us to October, which means they can’t evict us until… I mentally tabulate the weeks until we’re on the street. I already know I can’t survive on the measly checks from Shelton’s. That was grocery money compared to the steady income I got from Lane.

  I’ll start looking tomorrow. I’m too broken to drag myself up right now.

  I turn on my side, shuddering through a fresh wave of pain at the empty space beside me. Iris’ pillow is still where she left it. I like pretending she’s there, tossing over sweet smiles and burrowing into my chest.

  “Do me a favor…”

  Do me a favor, Ashton. Pretend this is real. Pretend this will last. Pretend this won’t end with your heart a mangled mess on your ripped-up linoleum floor.

  One of her hairs is stuck to the pillowcase, and I reach over to touch it. It all makes sense now, the part I could never understand before. She was a ghost. Maybe an angel, who the fuck knows. Whatever she was, she was temporary. I knew it all along, knew she wasn’t the once-in-a-lifetime girl for my shit life. Flowers don’t bloom for dead pieces of scorched debris.

  I resisted as long as I could, but no one is strong enough to avoid a woman like Iris Alexander, even if all you get is a brief taste of heaven. The part that really has my stomach sick and my brain in a tailspin? I’m not sure I’d trade the flash of joy I had with her to prevent the pain I’m in now. I’d do it all over again. Follow her straight into the fires
of hell and burn for just a taste of her. Melt into ash at her feet.

  I won’t tell her what her sister did. It’ll trigger a new chain of events that will just draw this travesty out longer and blow up even harder. Every time I think things can’t get worse for me, fate intervenes to prove me wrong. I don’t even want to think about the deadly fallout of being trapped in a war between the Alexanders. What if it led to a legal battle—or worse?

  Braydon and I can’t afford that, and honestly neither can Iris. Iris Alexander doesn’t belong on a sofa-bed in apartment 17B of the Rosewood building any more than I belong in a pool house playing make believe with a princess. Better for all of us if I walk away like I should have from the beginning.

  But none of that helps me breathe. None of it stops the violent ache in my chest or the sharp pain in my stomach. It won’t help me get through this night, and it sure as hell won’t help me get back on my feet.

  Iris can’t help with that. No one can. Only I can dig our way out of the ashes and start the long crawl back to survival.

  Tonight I grieve.

  Tomorrow I push back up to my knees.

  “Why don’t I have to go to Marla’s today?” Bray asks as I slide his bowl of cereal to him.

  “It turns out Lane doesn’t need my help anymore, so you and I are going to start looking for a new job for me. What do you think? What should I do next?”

  I drop to the chair across from him with my coffee.

  “Aren’t you going to eat too?”

  “Nah, I already did,” I lie. “Maybe I should see if any pirate ships are hiring.”

  Bray scrunches his face. “Nooo,” he says with a laugh. “Pirates aren’t real.”

  Well… technically, they are, but since I have no plans to join the real pirates either, I don’t correct him.

  “How about… a professional baseball player?” I tease.

  “You don’t even play baseball!”

  “No, but I could learn.”