by Sabrina York
Her delight had shone through her eyes. Burned into him. Searing him. Branding him with an indelible mark.
When he thought of her, the ache, the hole in his heart, eased.
He did not know why.
So as he waited on the uncomfortable plastic chair, sipping stone-cold and bitter coffee, waiting for news he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear, he thought of her. Just for the peace. Just for the comfort. More than he should have. He thought about the way she found joy in little things, like the slant of the sun through the trees, or the smell of brewing coffee or the brush of his lips. He thought about her smile, her sincerity, her open acceptance. Her trust.
Her reaction when he’d admitted to using her haunted him. He couldn’t help thinking he’d held something amazing in his hand, and crumpled it and tossed it away.
She could have been the one, he realized in a plunging epiphany. She could have been the one, and he’d ruined it.
The nurse finally came out to tell them Dad had been stabilized, but, with the exception of his wife, couldn’t see visitors until the morning. So Ash and Trish continued to wait in the echoing and empty holding pen, huffing antiseptic, until Michelle emerged.
She was weepy and shaken, but reported that Adam was doing much better. And he would like them all to return tomorrow. Relief nearly brought him to his knees.
But Michelle wasn’t finished yet. Her voice wavered as she shared the real news. Adam Bristol was slated for surgery at noon.
The doctors were hopeful he would survive.
Ash’s head buzzed.
Hopeful. They were hopeful he would survive.
Somehow that didn’t feel like very hopeful news at all.
And it hit him. Hit him hard.
Tomorrow, he might lose his dad.
He didn’t sleep at all that night. He tossed and turned and thought about his father, and the good times they’d had. Surf fishing on the coast, traveling through India together on that business trip when Dad had been between wives. Building that tree house with Parker. He remembered when Sam was born. Remembered watching his dad hold him for the first time, looking down at his tiny face as though he represented a miracle, a salvation.
Ash hadn’t understood at the time, and wasn’t sure he ever would understand the emotion behind Dad’s expression that day. It killed him that the new baby, Michelle’s baby, might never know its father.
And then, for some reason, deep in the dark of night, when he was giddy from exhaustion and worry and half-adrift on the sea of slumber, another vision visited him.
It was a terrifying vision, but fascinating too.
This time Ash was the father. He cradled a tiny, helpless bundle in his arms, looking down at that precious little person, his heart swelling with pride and joy and…adoration. He glanced up at her, the woman who made this miracle, made him whole, and she smiled. A balm on an aching soul. Love shone from those icy blue eyes. “Ash…” she whispered. It was Emily’s voice.
He snapped awake. Shot up in the bed. Clutched his chest.
Holy God.
It came to him like a thunderclap.
That was what he wanted.
The dream haunted him the rest of the day.
Ash was relieved to be able to visit his father before the surgery, although it shocked him to see the man he admired and respected, above everyone else in the world, laid flat on his back and connected to a tangle of tubes and beeping machines. He seemed…diminished.
The wait during the surgery was dreadful, though Parker, bless him, came by to wait with him. And he brought a deck of cards. They all whiled away the hours playing poker and spades, but when Trish suggested gin rummy, Ash made an excuse to leave and wandered off to the cafeteria. Because gin rummy made him think of her.
Though Parker came with him, they didn’t talk. They didn’t need to talk.
They got coffee, though neither wanted it, and sat at a booth in the corner.
“How you holding up?” Parker asked.
Ash shrugged. Sipped. Grimaced. “Okay I guess.”
“He’ll be fine. I’m sure.”
“Yeah.”
“Your dad is strong as a bull.”
“Yeah.” Ash didn’t dare let doubt creep in. He couldn’t bear it.
Silence descended. They both brooded, surrounded by their own cloud of worry. It was nice, he realized, to have someone with whom no mindless chatter was necessary.
But one thing needed to be said. “Thank you for being here, Parker.”
“Of course. He, ah…” Parker flushed, making the scar on his neck stand out. Ash hardly even noticed it any more. To him Parker was just…Parker. “Your dad…means the world to me.”
Ash nodded and took another sip of his coffee, though he didn’t want it. When Parker had been a boy, the victim of an appalling crime, Ash’s father had taken him under his wing. Adam was as much a father to Parker as he was to Ash himself.
Yeah. It was damn comforting to have someone there. Someone who understood.
It was hours and hours, and gallons of truly awful coffee, before the nurse announced Adam was out of surgery, and hours more before she permitted them to see him.
Ash was annoyed to the gills that Parker wasn’t allowed into the ICU. Because he wasn’t family. But he was.
“How you doin’, Dad?” Ash asked, gingerly taking his hand. It was disconcertingly cold.
Adam forced a smile, but it was more like a grimace. “Feel like I’ve been chewed up and spit out.”
Trish patted his arm, careful not to dislodge the IV. “Open heart surgery will do that to you, Dad.”
Michelle raked back his hair and pressed a kiss on his forehead. “The doctors said it went well. You’ll be home within a week.”
“A week?”
She waggled a finger at him. “No complaints. You’ll do everything those nurses tell you, you hear? I want you home, safe and sound. And I want you healthy.” She set her palm to her belly, and the two exchanged a meaningful glance. “Your daughter needs you to be healthy.”
“A daughter?” Adam croaked. And then, “You weren’t supposed to tell me.”
Michelle offered a watery grin. “You need to know, Adam. You need to think about her and how much she will need her father. This sweet little angel.”
The nurse squeaked in to shoo them out. “He needs his rest,” she announced like an Admiral through a bullhorn.
But before Ash could leave, Dad caught his arm. “Take care of her, Ash. If anything happens,” he whispered. “Take care of them all.”
He couldn’t manage a response. Nothing more than a nod.
His throat was too damn swollen to speak.
The next week Dad came home from the hospital and Ash finally felt like he could breathe again. The wait had been excruciating. He spent that time with his family, almost exclusively. Hanging out with Sam, taking his brother and stepmother to the hospital to visit his dad, then squiring them around the local malls as Michelle succumbed to what she called her “nesting instinct.” A month ago he would have been mortified to stand outside a Nordstrom’s dressing room holding her purse while she tried on clothes. Now all he cared about was that she was looking for an outfit to welcome his father home.
During that time, he tried not to think about Emily, but she kept creeping into his mind. He woke up thinking about her and went to sleep every night regretting his actions.
He ignored the growing panic.
Panic that he’d missed the boat.
He tried to expunge her, but apparently there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world. In the end, he had to admit, he’d made a monumental mistake.
Typically, Ash wasn’t the kind of guy to make mistakes. That was probably why it took him so long to figure it out. To realize what this pain in his chest meant whenever he thought of her. He was sure it wasn’t love—it couldn’t be love—but it was something. Guilt, probably. He knew he wouldn’t be at peace again, until he saw her. Maybe apologized for being a dick.
And he had been a dick.
He saw that now.
He’d been a dick most of his life.
So he would find her and apologize and maybe give her something pretty, like diamonds. In his experience, women liked diamonds. They absolved a multitude of sins. If that went well, he would ask her out on a date and woo her or something.
He’d never had to woo a woman before and he wasn’t sure what that entailed, but he was sure he could figure it out.
If she would even talk to him.
Which she probably wouldn’t.
He had no idea what he would do then.
When he went to visit his favorite jewelry store to pick up a bauble, his attention stalled on a brilliant marquis diamond ring. He felt like an idiot buying it. The only woman he might give it to probably hated him.
But he bought it. Hell, it was only money.
It felt right, that weight in his pocket. Comforting. It would be his totem. His inspiration. The reminder of what he really wanted in life.
Whether or not he could have it with her.
Hell, he didn’t know if he could find her, much less get her to listen to his apology. But he had to try. He just couldn’t rest until he did…something.
When he couldn’t reach Lane, he called a friend who was a private investigator and, armed only with the information he had, that her name was Emily and she taught third grade, asked Danny to help him find her. It took Danny less than an hour to search the school databases and report back that there were thirty-four Emilys teaching school in Washington State, and eight of those taught third grade.
Only eight.
Excellent.
He could visit each of those schools and find her. It wouldn’t take very long
Ash was over the moon with the information, until Danny reminded him it was summer.
He went to the island that weekend, hoping she’d be there. He didn’t even know her last name, didn’t even know where to find her if she wasn’t at the house next to his.
She wasn’t there
But her guardians were.
Lane Daniels, Holt Lamm and—horrors—Bella Cross sat on the dock. As Ash walked up, they all glared at him. Bella, sitting on the planks with Holt by her side, kicked up a spray of water at the sight of him.
“Bristol.” Lane nodded coolly. Apparently, his friends had brought him up to date on what had happened between Ash and Emily. The others said nothing. An uncomfortable silence sizzled.
“Do, ah, you have a minute?”
Lane threw out his hands, embracing the expansive horizon. “I’ve got all day.”
Ash shot a glance around the dock. Shivered. “I was hoping to talk to you in private.”
Brows arched. All of them. Practically in tandem. “Really?” they said.
“It’s kind of important.”
A growl resonated from Bella’s throat.
Holt leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “Bella, honey, would you go up to the house and get me another beer?”
Bella frowned, but then she caught Holt’s expression. Something flickered on her face. “Oh, all right,” she muttered, and rose. He smacked her gently on the ass and received, incomprehensibly, a grin from her.
“Thanks babe.”
Ash knew Holt had sent Bella away because he didn’t want her to witness what was coming. A shitstorm of gargantuan proportions. He steeled his spine. He deserved it. He knew it.
But both Holt and Lane at the same time? He didn’t think he could handle that. “I was hoping to talk to Lane,” he said.
“Yeah,” Holt smiled. It was a chilling smile. His muscles rippled as he flexed. “But I got something to say to you.”
“Look, I know I was an ass…” Okay. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.
Holt bounded to his feet and towered over him and hissed, “Ass doesn’t begin to cover it. You have no idea.”
Ash didn’t understand what Holt meant by that, but it didn’t matter too much. The overall vibe was pretty clear. Especially when he added, “Keep away from Emily, Ash. She’s way too good for you.” He started to storm away, as though he had to, or he’d lose control and do violence or something, but then he stopped in his tracks and whirled around. “If I hear that you so much as talked to that girl, I’ll rip out your throat.” Then Holt whirled on his heel and marched up the hill to the house.
“He means it.” Why Lane said it with a chuckle was a mystery. It wasn’t funny, the prospect of being torn to shreds by a guy like Holt Lamm.
“No doubt.”
“So? You wanted to talk to me? Better spit it out. Because Bella may be back soon and if you thought Holt was scary…”
Jesus. Who knew one girl would have so many fanatical champions? Though Ash understood how Emily inspired such fierce loyalty.
She was something special.
Ash waved at the deck chair next to Lane’s. “May I?” Normally he would never ask for permission to sit, but instinctively, he knew he had to be on his best behavior if he was going to get what he needed from Lane.
“Be my guest.” An icy tone.
Ash sat, but hardly knew where to start. “I…ah… My divorce was bad.”
Lane grunted.
“And there were a few other…unpleasant situations with women I got involved with. They were all only after money. So…I made a vow. One time with a woman. One time only. No relationships. Certainly not with a woman like Emily.”
“A woman like her?”
“You know.” The word clogged his throat. God it sounded pompous. “Poor.”
Lane laughed.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Lane glanced at him then. “How’s that lone wolf thing working out for you?”
Heat crept up Ash’s cheeks. “Guys in our situation…We have to be careful. You of all people should understand.”
Lane bristled. “Lucy’s nothing like Jillian. And Em? She’s one of the good ones too. If she loved you, it would be for who you are, not your money. I guaran-fucking-tee it.”
Now, when he looked back, he could see it. Her joy in the simple things. Her wide-eyed innocence, her purity of spirit.
Emily was not a gold digger.
“So, why are you telling me all this, Ash? What do you want?”
“I just want to talk to her. Explain.” Beg for forgiveness, maybe.
“Okay. What’s the problem?”
“I don’t know how to reach her. Hell, I don’t even know her last name.” Another laugh. Why Lane found this so amusing, he didn’t know. “Can you give me her number?”
“Are you insane?”
Ash set his teeth. “I need to talk to her.”
“I think you’ve said enough.” Lane’s nose wrinkled, as though he couldn’t stand the sight of Ash’s face. “She truly liked you. Too bad you fucked it up. Now she wants nothing to do with you.”
“I miss her. I really miss her.”
“Yeah. I’ll bet you do. I’m not giving you her number.”
“How about her name?”
Surely he would condescend to that tiny crumb.
But no. His expression made that more than clear.
“I will find her. I will find her and apologize. If I have to haunt this island every weekend.”
“Do what you gotta do. But you’re not getting her contact info from me, dude. And if you do find her?” Hope flickered in his chest at the thought. “And you hurt her again? I guarantee, Holt will kill you.”
Ash’s smile was watery. “What if Holt’s not around?”
“Then I’ll kill you.” With that, Lane—a guy who’d been his loyal friend for ten years—sprang from the deck chair, snatched up his towel and stormed away, leaving Ash feeling shredded. And defeated. And alone.
Chapter Ten
“There.” Emily sighed as she glanced around the ballroom. It was beautiful, elegantly decorated. Everything was in place. From the silent auction items along the far wall to the exquisite table settings, to the
band finishing their final sound check on the stage. Pride swelled in her chest. It meant so much that she had the resources and abilities to pull off a charity event like this. And it comforted her to know that, even if her own fairy tale would never come true, she could help someone else have theirs. “I think it’s perfect.”
“Of course it’s perfect,” Kaitlin grinned, hugging her shoulder. “You’re a slave driver.”
Emily wrinkled her nose. “Am I?”
Jamie snorted. “Are you kidding? When it comes to events like this, you become practically militant.”
Emily nibbled her lip. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be sorry. You’re good at this, Em. Really good.”
“Yeah.” Jamie crossed her arms and surveyed the room, watching the rest of the volunteers make final adjustments to the balloon arches. “We are going to make so much money for the Teen Waystation, it’s not even funny.”
“I hope so.” This was one of Emily’s favorite causes. No one should be homeless, but when teens, kids just starting out in life, found themselves alone in the world, something had to be done. Someone had to step in. Some of their stories were heartbreaking.
It had been such a relief over the past two weeks, having this event to occupy her time. Her mind. She’d been too busy to think about Ash. Well, until nighttime. When she lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling blinking back the tears.
Which was foolish. He’d made his position clear.
Theirs had been a one night stand. He had no interest in anything else.
She’d been so sure the feeling she had when she was with him was real. That they were real. But then, she kept reminding herself, it wasn’t as though she was experienced in things like this.
It was her own fault.
After one near-disastrous interaction with a man in college, she’d erected very thick, firm and impenetrable walls. She hadn’t dated. She hadn’t trusted. Hadn’t even paddled in the pond. Had she truly imagined she could just dive in and swim like a fish?
It was simply ironic that the first time she let down her guard it was to a man who wanted only one thing.
Or maybe it wasn’t ironic.