by Abby Brooks
Ashley quirks her head to the side and lifts her hands in question, a smile lifting the corners of her lips. I’ve just been sitting in the car, staring at her, thinking thoughts so inappropriate that my dick has gone completely hard. She wanders around the front of the car and knocks on the window.
“You okay?” she mouths.
Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just hard as a fucking rock.
I open the door and she steps back as it swings open. “It’s not mine,” I say, pausing with the door between us to give my dick a chance to calm down.
“What’s not yours?”
“The house.”
“Did you steal it?”
“Yep. Killed the guy that lived here. Don’t mind the bloodstain in the foyer.” And, there we go. I am now officially erection-less.
Ashley rolls her eyes. “And you call me weird.”
“It’s the truth though. Not the murder stuff, but the house? It’s my cousin, Ian’s.”
Understanding dawns on her face. “He owns a bunch of rental properties now, doesn’t he?”
“Yep. He was cool enough to let us stay here until I decide how long I’m staying.”
Her brows furrow again and that weird hardness darkens her face. I don’t remember anything dark or hard about Ashley Thompson. She’s always been the first to laugh, those bright eyes dancing with merriment. I hate this new look and I want to make sure she never has a reason to make it again.
Just then the door to the house swings open and Aunt Diane sticks her head out. “You need any help out here?” Her gaze goes from me, standing in my garage without a shirt, to Ashley, and then right back to me again. I’ve never seen Aunt Diane not know what to say. It’s absolutely hilarious.
Recognition blossoms across her face. “Ashley Thompson?” Aunt Diane takes a few steps into the garage and then stops, her gaze bouncing between Ash and me again, gauging the distance between us, the fact that she’s obviously wearing my shirt, the fact that I’m standing here without said shirt. Aunt Diane knows our history. I can only imagine what’s running through her mind right now.
Ashley smiles and gives her one of those girly waves, where she just wiggles her fingers and grins. “Hi.”
Diane shakes her head. “You silly thing, don’t you stand there and wave at me. Get over here and give me a real hug.”
While my aunt leads Ash into the living room, I head upstairs to grab a shirt, stopping to peek at Georgia along the way. She’s tucked into bed, curled up tight hugging her teddy bear against her thin chest. I brush her hair back off her face and gently press a kiss to her forehead.
“I love you, Bug,” I whisper before pulling her blanket up to cover her tiny body. Fatherhood blindsided me. I was so not prepared for this. Not at all. Georgia’s mom and I had just started dating and when she told me she was pregnant. Even though we weren’t even that serious about each other, she was adamant that the child was mine. I hadn’t even considered something as committed as calling her my girlfriend, let alone something as permanent as bringing a whole person into the world. But the moment she told me, I knew exactly what I needed to do. If this woman was going to be the mother of my child, well then damn it, I would do the right thing and marry her.
I had it all figured out. I was on fire at work and had more than enough money to support us in the city. The trajectory of my career said money would just keep flowing into my accounts. I had myself a beautiful woman with enough drive and ambition to rival mine. And then, to top it all off, a baby. A family of my own. A chance to prove I wasn’t like my dad. That I’d learned what I could from my uncle and was ready to reap the rewards of my hard work. I’d come through the meat grinder that was my childhood, passed through that one idyllic year here in Bliss, and come out a better version of myself. I honestly thought I had finally worked hard enough and been through enough shit that life decided to cut me a break.
Fucking hell was I ever wrong.
The only good thing that came out of those years with Meredith was Georgia. My little Bug. She’s given me a purpose. A reason. Everything I do is for her and even though I work my ass off to do what I think is right, I’m always certain I’m failing her.
Ashley’s low laughter comes lilting up the stairs, followed closely by my aunt’s honey-warmed voice. Those two always got along so well. Almost too well. It’s dangerous for them to be unsupervised downstairs. If I don’t get down there quickly, Aunt Diane will have Ashley filled in on the last eight years of my life. Which is fine, I guess. I don’t mind Ashley knowing about my life, it’s just my story to tell. Not aunt’s. I grab a shirt without really paying attention to which one it is and sprint down the stairs as I pull it over my head.
“Thank you so much for watching Georgia again for me tonight,” I say as I come around the corner.
“Of course.” My aunt smiles. “We had a great time. We went for a walk on the beach and collected some more shells. She had one in her hand when she went to bed, just so you’re not surprised if you see it in the morning. She wanted you to leave a kiss in it.”
Ashley’s cellphone vibrates in her purse. She must have gotten forty-five texts in the ten minutes it took us to get home. It’s none of my business really. None at all. I have less than zero claim to Ashley Thompson anymore, but every time that damn phone buzzes in her purse, I get madder and madder. This profound surge of protectiveness rises up from deep inside me, something so primal and powerful I’ve only ever felt it for my Bug before.
I meet her gaze as Aunt Diane goes about gathering her things. Just as my desire to protect her grows with each new buzz of the phone, so does the stress on her face. Her brows get tight, her jaw clenches. Her arms wrap around her stomach and it looks like she’s trying to fold in on herself.
Watching her hollow out like this, I make Ashley a silent promise. Hell, it’s not just for her. The promise is also for me. I will protect this woman. I will bring her back to life. I will remind her how to smile like the light is coming from deep within her very soul.
My aunt pulls Ashley into a hug. “It’s really good to see you again.”
“You too, Mrs. Moore.” Ashley clings to my aunt. This isn’t a friendly hug between old friends. This is a girl in need of a lifeline. Clinging to one of the few people in her whole life who ever gave her a reason to feel safe. According to Ashley, there’s only been one other person in her whole life who made her feel that way.
Me.
Chapter Five
I’m not always at my best when I first wake up. My dreams are full and vivid and I sleep so soundly, the first hour or so of being awake is hard, like I’ve got bubble wrap taped around my brain. Like I’m trying to think through mud. Today, though, is its own special brand of weird. Not only do I not immediately know where I am, but there’s a little girl sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring at me with her arms folded across her chest. I blink and smile, trying to look friendly. The little girl frowns.
“Who are you?” she asks.
I push up onto my elbow and rub a hand over my face. “I’m Ashley.”
The little girl nods like that explains everything. “I’m Georgia. My daddy said I shouldn’t wake you up.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t then, isn’t it?”
“I was real quiet and didn’t move even a little.” Georgia looks so proud of herself, it’s adorable. Her blonde hair wisps around her face, thin and staticky and in need of a good brushing. Those eyes, though. Those are Jackson’s eyes, no doubt about it.
I plop back down onto my pillow and blink at the ceiling, the details of where I am and why I’m here finding their way through the bubble wrap, tape, and mud. My phone is on the nightstand, the notification light blinking. A flashing accusation and reminder that my life is now completely upheaved and that I’m only here because Jackson managed to be there for me when I needed him the most, just like he always has been. Some things never change, I guess.
“Daddy’s making pancakes,” says Georgia, oblivi
ous to the torrent of confusion forcing me awake.
“Oh, yeah?”
Georgia nods. “He said ‘nana pancakes can make anyone feel better.” She tilts her head to the side. “Is your tummy upset?”
“No.”
“Do you have a booboo?”
I smile. “Nope.”
“Why do you need to feel better, then?”
I swipe my phone off the nightstand and pull up the notification bar. One hundred and two text messages and fifteen voicemails. Fuck. I swipe away the notifications. Cain doesn’t deserve a chance to say whatever it is he thinks is so important. He used up all his chances with me.
The bedroom door bumps open and Jackson pushes through, balancing a tray laden with plates and a cup of coffee that smells so good, a choir of angels might as well be singing to me from the heavens above. Or maybe that’s because Jackson is wearing nothing but a low slung pair of sweats that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Oh, man am I ever a sucker for bare chests and bare feet.
“Daddy!” Georgia wiggles off the bed and throws her little arms around his legs.
“What are you doing in here, Bug?” he asks as he works a miracle by managing not to spill the entire tray on his daughter’s head. “I thought I told you not to wake her up.”
“I didn’t.” She looks at me, mostly hiding behind Jackson. “Right?”
I nod and push myself back up to a sitting position. “That’s right. I woke up all on my own.” Jackson notices the phone in my hand and grimaces.
“Did you sleep well?” He perches on the edge of the bed. “I made you breakfast,” he says almost sheepishly. “I figured no one could wake up to breakfast in bed and not smile at least a little.”
The phone feels heavy and out of place, like it’s holding onto all of Cain’s anger and jealousy. I put it back on the bedside table just in time for it to buzz again, the notification light blinking away. I take a long breath in through my nose and close my eyes as I let it out. For someone who doesn’t function at full speed for at least three hours after waking up, this is a lot to take in during the first ten minutes of the day.
When I open my eyes, the first thing I see is Jackson, looking absolutely delectable, his face pinched with worry and a self-consciousness I don’t remember ever seeing in him before.
“There,” he says to Georgia. “What did I tell you?”
She grins at her dad like he’s the wisest soul in all the world. “No one can frown at a ‘nana pancake.”
I didn’t even know I was smiling.
“Come on, Bug. Let’s let Ashley eat and we’ll get your hair taken care of.”
She frowns at him. “Promise you won’t pull?”
Jackson shakes his head and laughs as he stands. “I make no such promise. You go on and get everything ready. I’ll be right there.”
“She’s adorable,” I say after she scampers off, her arms flailing out from her side as she runs.
“She has her moments.” The look on Jackson’s face is pure adoration. “I’m sorry she woke you.”
“No need to apologize. I think I was already mostly awake.” My phone buzzes again and even though I refuse to look at it, Jackson glares at it like it might be the reason I’m so groggy. Which it very well might be.
“That been happening a lot?” His jaw is tight.
I nod, his anger spinning up a cyclone of worry in my stomach.
“Have you answered yet?”
“He doesn’t deserve an answer.” I pick up the coffee and take a sip. “Maybe I’ll reach out when I need to get my stuff. Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll just show up when he’s at work and empty my closet.”
Jackson rubs a hand along the back of his neck and peeks up at me through his eyebrows. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
Although I wonder if he’d feel the same if he knew all the inappropriate thoughts I keep having.
With that, he sweeps out of the room, calling for Georgia like he doesn’t know where she is. Her laughter echoes down the hallway as I dig into the breakfast he made me. He’s right, it’s hard not to smile at a banana pancake. It’s no surprise that Jackson is a good dad. None at all. That man came with a protective streak a mile wide, pre-installed at birth I think. He shared it with me from the very moment we met, but I don’t think many people ever get to see it. At least not here in Bliss. Back then, most people knew him as the quiet, new guy who spoke with his fists.
He was always different with me. One day, wrapped up in Jackson’s arms and staring up at the sky from under the bleachers at school, I told Jackson about my parents. Little whispered admissions that became a full on confession. That night, he showed up at my bedroom window, knocking softly on the glass. I let him in and he held me, and everything about what we were to each other changed.
As I eat and my phone continues to buzz at me with an incessant mix of texts and phone calls, I listen to Georgia and Jackson bantering in the bathroom. He sings to her and she sings back. Well, when she’s not squealing in pain.
“You promised you wouldn’t pull!”
Jackson replies, and although his voice is too low for me to make out, I hear stress in his voice. Carefully, I lift the breakfast tray and slide out of bed, padding down the hallway towards their voices until I find them in what’s clearly Georgia’s bathroom. There’s not a single picture on any of the walls in this house. The place might as well be vacant for the total lack of decorating. Except this room. It’s been freshly painted a deep purple with hot pink ladybugs spotting the walls. There’s a fluffy bathmat with matching shower curtain and towels. Even the trashcan matches. I bet the only other room that’s this put together is her bedroom.
Georgia’s standing on a step-stool, staring at herself in the mirror while Jackson wrangles one half of her hair into a lopsided pigtail. “I’ve almost got this piggy in, Bug.”
“This is officially the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” I say. “You standing in a purple bathroom, all tough and muscled, struggling to make a decent piggy.”
Jackson shakes his head. “I don’t know why it’s so hard.”
I look at the mess he’s created out of his daughter’s hair. “I don’t either. Want me to give it a go?”
Jackson hands me the brush and backs up. “Be my guest.”
Leaning around her, I pretend to study Georgia’s face, pursing my lips and tapping my cheek with my finger. “What do you think? High or low?” I ask her. “I think you’d look the most adorable with them right here.” I point to a spot on her head and Georgia studies her reflection.
She glances at her daddy who shrugs and flares his hands before she nods her agreement. Her hair is still coming in. It’s thin and wispy and I can see why he has such a hard time with it but I will never let him see that. Careful not to tug and pull, I get her hair up.
“Piggies!” she squeals, shaking her head so her hair bounces. Without another word, she climbs down off her step-stool, taking extra care to gauge the distance to the floor, and then takes off out of the room.
“You have no idea. You probably just made her year.”
I open my mouth to reply but Georgia comes racing back into the bathroom, hitting her shoulder on the doorjamb and kind of stumbling into the room. She has a shell in her hand that she brings up to her lips, makes a big show of kissing it, and then presses it into my hand. There’s a moment of a shy smile and then she’s gone again, a streak of blonde hair and sunshine.
“Wow.” Jackson folds his arms over his chest and leans against the wall. The bathroom suddenly feels small with just the two of us in it. “You got a kissy shell. That’s a really big deal. You don’t even know.”
“Oh believe me. I know.” I try to pull it off like I’m totally cool, but I’m so not. I’m trying not to stare at his chest, which means my only other option is to fall into his eyes.
“Oh yeah?” Jackson steps towards me. “You do?”
I nod because there’s no way I could use my
voice.
“What do you know, Ashley?”
His question confuses me because he keeps getting closer. He’s way up in my personal space and I can’t stop staring at his lips, remembering the way I used to feel when he pressed them against mine. What do I know? I know I want him to kiss me and I know I want it more than anything even though I also know it’s a terrible idea.
He reaches out and I tilt my face up to his, desperate for his touch even if it is so completely wrong. My eyes start to close and I soften my lips, so very ready for his kiss.
“Thanks for helping with her hair,” he says, taking the brush from my hand and stepping past me to put it in one of the drawers.
Oh. God.
Kill me now.
I imagined it all. Jackson never intended to kiss me. He just wanted to put his daughter’s brush away. His daughter who’s right around the corner in the other room.
Fucking hell.
I am such an idiot.
Mumbling something that probably makes very little sense, I rush out of the room and throw myself onto the bed, scream soundlessly into the pillows, and then pluck my phone off the table to wade through the texts from Cain.
Chapter Six
Fuck me. What kind of an asshole am I? Ashley just broke up with her long-term boyfriend and I’m ready to molest her in the bathroom where my four-year-old little girl could walk in at any time. I lean on the counter in Georgia’s bathroom and meet my eyes in the mirror, waiting for my dick to settle down before I push off and check on Bug.
Get a hold of yourself, Moore. Feel free to drop the Chester the Molester act at any time.
I pass the guest room on my way and can’t help but peek through the door. Ashley is sitting on the bed, cross-legged, hunched over her phone and wearing the same clothes she had on last night.
“Hey you,” I say, putting a hand on each side of the door frame and leaning in.
Ashley glances up from her phone and her cheeks turn a bright red. “Hey.” Her voice is soft and sweet.