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

by Aly Stiles

“You could drive a truck. Like, one of those big ones with all the wheels?” His eyes widen with excitement as he demonstrates big trucks with lots of wheels.

  Hmm… that’s not a bad idea. I’ll look into what it takes to get a CDL. Long-haul might be an issue with Bray, but maybe I could do local deliveries or even work something out with Marla—

  “What about the guy at the grocery store?”

  “Which guy at the grocery store? The guy who stocks the shelves?” Easy job to get but wouldn’t pay the bills.

  “No! The guy at the front with the badge.”

  “Oh, you mean the security guy.”

  He nods and shoves another spoonful of fruity circles in his mouth.

  Security guard… another possibility. I add that to the mental list. Not sure how that pays. I’m going to look into construction as well, but I’m nervous about seasonal work, especially since I’d be low in the pecking order as a newbie. I’d be the first to go when things slowed down, and we’d end up right back here again. I’d much rather start building equity with an employer in a long-term relationship.

  My phone buzzes, and I glance over, my stomach constricting at another text from Iris. Shit. Fifth one since I stormed away last night. I would’ve turned my phone off to stop torturing myself if I wasn’t waiting for a response from Stacie about more hours.

  I feel like a dick for not responding to Iris, but I don’t know what to say to her. I already know from past experience she’s not going to let me break things off directly. She’ll argue, probably stalk me until I give in. I’m definitely not telling her the truth and launching a firefight that’s going to leave Braydon and me as the worst of the casualties.

  That only leaves my least favorite option. I have no choice but to ghost her and hope it angers her enough that she moves on. It’ll take one date with some rich trust fund kid to be grateful she avoided disaster.

  Another text, this one with a photo, leaves me clenching my jaw through a wave of longing. I’m not opening it. There’s no way I can see her right now. Probably never, if I’m honest. Our time together was short but that girl imprinted herself on my soul.

  “When are we going back to Miss Iris’ house?”

  Shit. Did Bray see my screen or does the universe hate me that much?

  “I don’t know, little man. Not for a while,” I force out. “Hey, I’m going to start looking into those options we talked about. You finish your cereal and go play with your toys, okay?”

  Braydon nods, surprising me when he grabs my sleeve as I pass.

  “Ashton?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you. You’re the best brother in the world.”

  Trucks are out. Too much time and money to get a CDL. I don’t have weeks for classes and training or the funds to pay for it. Security guard could be possible, though the starting pay is less than I was making with Lane, and a quick search brings up mostly night shift openings which are out. I even consider Kyle Alexander’s strange suggestion about business. But without a degree or any experience, my options are limited to entry-level admin work which wouldn’t pay enough either. Besides, there’s nothing on my resume that would make me want to hire me for an office job, let alone a total stranger. I’d be competing with a sea of better-qualified candidates.

  In fact, that’s the wall I seem to hit with any career option outside my history of manual labor and waiting tables. Maybe I could see about picking up another restaurant job, but trying to balance two jobs requiring similar shifts doesn’t make much sense. My frustration level already has my fingers itching to toss my laptop out the window when I finally get a response from Stacie.

  Hey Ashton. I can try to get you a few more hours but you’re already averaging over 30. I can’t go over 40. It wouldn’t be fair to the others. Come in at 2 today if you want.

  Shit.

  I blow out a breath and drop my phone on the mattress beside me. There goes that plan.

  I scrub at my face, my hands shaking with some strange anxiety. It’s been happening a lot since Lane’s phone call. As if my frayed nerves know something I don’t. Maybe it’s like an old joint injury that aches just before a storm rolls in. My well-trained crisis response can sense the next disaster before it happens. I hold my hand out in front of me, watching it vibrate like a man four times my age. Then again, maybe it’s hunger. I’m going to have to eat something soon to get through the day.

  After dropping Braydon off with the Coles, I clock in just before two, surprising everyone with my early arrival. I brush off the inquiries with a brisk smile, and yes, I feel even worse when Leah avoids my gaze like she has since she asked me out.

  Ironically, I might actually have had a future with her. Too bad Iris ruined any chance I have of finding love. What woman is ever going to compare to Iris Alexander? And I’m not enough of an asshole to date someone knowing I’ll never give them my entire heart. Leah deserves better, and so does everyone else until this wound heals into a scar I can hide.

  If it heals.

  “Table four, Ashton,” Leah says several hours into my shift.

  “Thanks.” I add a smile, but she looks away.

  Crap. Is this going to be our new normal? Even more reason Shelton’s can’t be my long-term plan.

  I start toward table four, hoping it’s a large party. I could use a break for once. Convince them to buy a drink or two. Some apps and dessert?

  I turn the corner and step back. My blood runs cold, then hot. Adrenaline rushes through me as I meet the confused stare of the woman I can’t get out of my head. How stupid could I be? Of course she’d come find me. Why did I think for a second ignoring her would work?

  Not wanting to make a scene and risk the one job I have left, I approach as casually as possible. Inside my lungs are twisting with my stomach in a weird mix of choked nausea. Outside, I’m hoping I look like a polite employee of Shelton Barn and Table.

  “Good evening. I’m Ashton, and I’ll be serving you tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

  Iris’ eyes flicker with hurt as she stares at me in silence. I look away, unable to face her pain. I still haven’t gotten a handle on my own.

  My chest hurts. I’m sure if I looked down I’d see cracked ribs protruding from my uniform.

  “Why?” she whispers.

  I steel my hands into fists. “Maybe you’d like to try our signature—”

  “Why?” She touches my arm, and I recoil as if burned.

  We both freeze at my reaction, the hurt in her eyes melting into open tears.

  You know what will happen if you tell her the truth. This is your second chance to do what you should have done in the first place.

  “Because…”

  Oh god. I swallow the mass in my throat. It shoves down and lodges in my chest. Say it, Ashton! Say. It.

  “Because this—” I motion between us “—wasn’t working for me.”

  Her blue watery eyes spread into thrashing oceans as she stares at me in disbelief. Her head moves in slow arcs. When she blinks, two drops escape down her cheeks. “No. I don’t accept that.”

  I can’t look at her anymore and step back.

  “I’m… I’ll find someone else to serve you,” I rush out, retreating before she can respond. “I need a break,” I say to Leah as I stalk toward the door.

  I push out into the sticky evening air that doesn’t feel any cooler than the afternoon heat. Then again, I wouldn’t know, would I. I wasn’t in the heat today. I was stuck at home trying to figure out how to keep my life together for another day.

  My hands are shaking. My entire body as I lean against the building, trying to pull in full breaths. But I can’t. No matter how hard I try, the air won’t come. It’s blocked by the boulder in my chest, squeezing out my heart and everything left that makes me human.

  I bend over, bracing my hands on my thighs as I fight for oxygen. When I sense a presence, I lift my head just enough to see the last person I can handle right now watching me
like I’m the devil she can’t live without. Like she’s the angel who thought she was strong enough to drag me out of hell.

  Transform me from ash into garden.

  “Why?” she asks again, stepping toward me. The tears are streaks now, her voice choked and broken. “Why, why, why?”

  She’s almost screaming as she charges and shoves me into the wall. This time I don’t stop her as she pounds out her frustration. I deserve it. If not from her then from some cosmic force that’s determined this is where I belong. She’s not trying to hurt me. Her blows are symbolic, which only makes them hurt more.

  “Why, Ashton?!” she cries pounding her fist into my shoulder one last time and leaving it there.

  I don’t have an answer for her. The why won’t make sense to her, just like her answers never made sense to me.

  “Iris, please. Just…” Just what? I don’t even know how to finish that sentence.

  She gazes up at me, those injured blue eyes clawing at my resistance.

  This is why.

  You are why.

  “Ashton? What’s going on? Leah said you ran out.” I glance up in horror to find Stacie watching the scene in confusion. She’s not the only one at a loss. None of us has a handle on what’s happening right now.

  “Nothing. I’m sorry. I’m on my way back in. Just felt sick for a moment and needed some air,” I lie.

  Her gaze swings to Iris and her expression darkens as she takes in Iris’ grief-stricken, tear-stained face.

  “Everything okay?” Stacie asks her.

  I want to throw up at the implication. The fucking irony that I’m about to get fired for the same offense on two consecutive days.

  “I’m fine,” Iris chokes out, running her sleeve over her eyes. “It’s nothing. I just had bad news for Ashton.”

  My eyes snap to Iris in surprise, and yes, gratitude for her lie. She probably just saved my job. Again, ironic that another lie took my other one. I’m just the king of irony today.

  “Shit. I’m sorry. You okay?” Stacie asks me, and I feel badly about her genuine concern, but right now I’m too numb, my brain too jumbled, to react.

  I force a nod, suddenly realizing my own eyes feel wet and heavy. When did I start crying? I don’t remember. Maybe I never stopped.

  “Okay. Well, take a minute. If you need to go, that’s fine.”

  I swallow, now really feeling like shit. “Thanks, Stacie,” I say.

  “He does actually,” Iris interrupts. “I came to pick him up.”

  Any gratitude I had for her descends into anger at her interference. Not only do I need the hours, I have no intention of leaving here with her. The last thing I can afford right now is to tempt my already weakened state with the poison I can’t seem to get enough of.

  “Oh, okay. You sure?” she asks me.

  “No, I should be fine. Just give me a minute to sort things out. I’ll come find you,” I say quickly, trying to get Stacie out of here as fast as possible.

  Now she looks really confused, but at least she starts away. Once she’s gone, I glare at Iris.

  “You can’t do that,” I hiss.

  “What else was I supposed to do? You won’t talk to me!” she snaps back.

  “Fine! But you can’t come in here and pull me out of work because your feelings are hurt!”

  “Oh, my feelings are hurt? Why would my feelings be hurt, Ashton? Because the guy I’m falling for and I thought was falling for me decided to drop me without a word?”

  “It’s been one day, Iris! One. Day. I’m sorry if your feelings aren’t at the top of my priority list when I’m trying to keep myself and my brother fucking alive!”

  She cringes, but I don’t take it back. This is exactly what she needs to hear. I’ve protected her too much, forgiven her too many times for not getting it.

  “Yeah? Well, then maybe you do need some time off. It wouldn’t kill you to take a minute to sort out your life!”

  I stiffen, stepping back as if struck. Every dark thought over the past twenty-four hours comes rushing back in an onslaught of awareness. How can she say that to me? After everything she’s seen? All the tears she’s cried and promises she’s made? If I needed proof that I was right all along, here it is.

  “Actually, it would kill me,” I fire back at her. “I don’t get to decide what may or may not be convenient. I don’t get to rest or take a fucking mental health day to sort out my feelings when they’re hurt.” I wave my hand between us. “The reason you and I can’t be together is because the next four hours could be the difference between whether or not I can feed my brother tomorrow, so don’t fucking stand there and tell me you understand my life. You will never be able to understand what it’s like for me!”

  My entire world goes dark at the expression on her face. I should have just stabbed myself in the heart. It would’ve been less painful than watching the utter decimation of the woman who’s seeped into my soul.

  She staggers back, staring at me like I’m a monster. Like maybe she finally does understand. That I was right from the beginning and she’s better off without this endless blackhole in her life.

  Everything in me wants to take it all back, so I clamp my mouth shut. I’d climb through broken glass to touch her right now, so I lock my hands behind my back and force myself against the wall. My heart is screaming to betray me and show her the truth about what I feel for her, so I close my eyes before she can see how much I’m hurting. How much this entire scene is fucking torture and if she doesn’t leave in the next ten seconds, I’m going to end up on my knees, begging her to destroy me again.

  I need her to leave.

  Ten.

  “Ashton.” I hate when she says my name like that. Hate how it sounds like a poem.

  Nine.

  “Ashton, please. I know something must have happened. You wouldn’t just freeze me out like this. Please… let’s talk through it. Let me help.”

  I clench my eyes tighter, secure my hands harder.

  Eight.

  “Please. Don’t do this. At least give me a chance!” The tears in her voice. Gut me. Rip my heart from my chest.

  Seven.

  “Look at me! Why won’t you at least look at me?!” She’s sobbing now. Even if I didn’t hear it in her voice, my soul would know it. It’s linked to hers. That’s why I’m going to have to break it to break free.

  Six.

  She touches my cheek, and I flinch away, my eyes opening on instinct. Big mistake. Giant blue orbs stare up at me, raw and wounded.

  Five.

  “I have to go back to work,” I force out, but my voice doesn’t cooperate. It sounds as broken as hers. It does the opposite of its intent when it makes her eyes fill with hope. Shit!

  Four.

  “I’ll come over tonight. We can talk about whatever’s going on. We’ll figure this out.”

  I shake my head. Shut my eyes again.

  “Ashton, please! I need you in my life. Please don’t do this!”

  Three.

  “Don’t come back here, Iris. If you do, I’ll switch tables.”

  “You don’t mean that.” I can barely understand her through her choked tears.

  “I do! And don’t message me. I won’t read them.”

  “I don’t believe you!”

  Two.

  I swallow and push away from the wall, bumping into her as I move past.

  One.

  I realize as I leave her standing in the dark that our collision will be the last time I ever touch Iris Alexander.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  IRIS

  Day One. Day Two. Day Three and Four. They’re all the same as I stare at my ceiling, cycling between silent tears and open sobs. Dad made an ill-advised attempt to reason with me on Day Five. Something about how it’s his loss and there will be someone else for me.

  His loss?

  If it’s his loss, why am I the one with a gaping hole in my chest? Why am I the one with a constant ache in my stomach, forced
to barricade entire blocks of my brain just to get through the day? If it’s really his loss, then I wouldn’t be the one moving through my house like a ghost to avoid any possible reminder of him. I wouldn’t have to clip my curtains closed to make sure I don’t accidentally catch a glimpse of the pool and have my heart ripped out all over again. Forget the pool house. My first task when I’m back on my feet is to finally burn it down once and for all.

  And this is the denial stage.

  I don’t know what I’m going to do once I move onto the next phase of my grief. Because for now, I’m still staring at my phone, waiting for a message to pop up at any moment. Just the smallest hint to put me out of my misery. I still think he’s going to call. That he’s at home being torn apart like I am and finally realizing he made a mistake. But every time the phone dings with a text or shrieks with a call, my heart breaks again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Until by Day Six, I turn it off just for a reprieve from the pain.

  On Day Seven, I’m stuck at a boring fundraising event hosted by one of Dad’s clients. Dad thought it would be good for me to get out and insisted I join them. Ivy of course is in her element, floating around the room in a see-through gown.

  Me, I’m staring into a champagne glass, watching the bubbles dance around with more life than I’ve felt in days. At least it’s more interesting than whatever the guy beside me is saying. Something about cars. How they’re fast. And expensive. And have special wheels. Oh, and he has several of them because apparently that’s supposed to impress rich girls like me.

  Really? He wants to impress me? Let me see him work fourteen-hour days in grueling conditions to support another person. Let me see him sleep in his truck when he has nowhere else to go and still light up a room with his smile the next day. Hell, I’d settle for watching this guy throw out his own napkin instead of dropping it on the table for someone else to clean up.

  But he doesn’t. He crumbles it and leaves it beside the plate of hors d’oeuvres he barely touched. Ashton and Braydon could eat for a week on what that plate of wasted food costs. This entire night is a joke. How much money and resources are being squandered so a bunch of people can pat themselves on the back, while eating gourmet food and sipping champagne?