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by A. L. Jackson


  Smug, Sebastian, who had switched from wine to a tumbler of amber liquid, tipped the glass he was holding in Ash’s direction and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

  Ash scoffed, his voice lifted in that over-the-top, imprudent way. “What in the world are you talkin’ about?”

  Tonight, the cocky, arrogant boy had come out to play. He’d been that way since the second he’d picked me up at my house. Flirty smirk already firmly set in place. Ease in each powerful step.

  He gestured to himself with both hands. “This boy right here? He’s a lover, not a fighter.”

  With as much zeal as Ash poured into the argument, I might have believed him.

  Apparently, his friends knew better.

  Lyrik sputtered on his wine. “Not a fighter? I think between our crew we could probably come up with about…oh…I don’t know…a thousand or two instances that would tell an entirely different story.”

  Lyrik ticked his chin at me. “Besides, I think your girl here would attest to the fact you are most definitely a fighter.”

  Your girl.

  God.

  Was it wrong how much I wanted it?

  Palms up, Ash held out his hands. “Hey now, hey now. Get backed into a corner and a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Only thing I’m concerned about is getting the fact clear that I enjoy the lovin’ part so much more than the fightin’. Let’s just say it’s so much more…satisfying. Thinking my Willow here could attest to that, too. Some of us are just endowed with…certain gifts. Isn’t that right, Willow?”

  He cocked his head at me, just as cocky as his grin.

  Shivers.

  Heat.

  I couldn’t stop it. Right there in the middle of the restaurant. In front of all his family and friends.

  The man had me twisted inside out.

  Made me forget who I was.

  Or maybe he’d just slowly showed me who it was I wanted to be.

  Laughter contained, I forced a shrug and wide, innocent eyes. “You’re okay, I guess.”

  “Goo!” Austin pounded on the table, laughing loud. “Shoot, sink, score. Willow for the win.”

  Edie cracked up and buried her face in her hands.

  Zee howled and hooked a thumb at me. “Oh, dude, now I get why you’ve been keeping this one around. Think you’ve met your match, my friend. Glad to see someone finally step up to the plate and put you in your place.”

  Zee smiled at me, almost soft. As if he knew he were traversing into territory that might sting. His gaze telling me it was all in jest. Part of the constant sparring that went on between all of them.

  Ash’s mouth dropped open in offense, and he slammed a closed fist over his heart, obviously dying from a mortal stab wound.

  “Oh, darlin’, you just really know how to break a man’s heart, don’t you? And here I thought I was blowing your mind every single night…a time or two or maybe four. Guess I’m just going to have to throw in the towel. Give it up. Don’t think my fragile ego can take it.”

  Tamar laughed. “Fragile ego, my ass. Your ego has to be as big as your—”

  “Gah…stop…stop right there,” Edie pled, falling into a fit of giggles she hid in Austin’s shoulder. “I don’t even know why I hang out with you all. This is supposed to be my safe circle and every single time I leave with images in my head I just don’t want to see.”

  Tamar shrugged a tattooed shoulder. “What? If we have to put up with your brother, then you have to, too.”

  “How’s that putting up with Ash going anyway, Willow?” Shea edged forward, mischief seeded in her words. “Are his ‘gifts’ really all that disappointing or are they enough to maybe get you to hang around? Because I have two hundred bucks on this player having to paint all those extra bedrooms pink and blue one day. Think it’s about time I cash in.”

  She meant it to be a tease.

  I knew she did.

  But it didn’t stop the pain from leeching into my insides. Squeezing my spirit.

  I forced a wobbly smile. “I don’t think there’s any threat of that happening any time soon.”

  I made a valiant attempt not to look Ash’s way, hating that I felt vulnerable. Raw.

  I didn’t want to be that girl.

  Not anymore.

  Silence fell over the table. Tension thick.

  Finally, Shea spoke quietly. “I’m so sorry if I said something I shouldn’t have. I would never want to hurt either of you.”

  I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “It’s fine. Honestly.”

  Was it?

  Because I could feel myself at the precipice. Those moments slipping by. Ones I wanted to cling to forever.

  Ash slammed his palms down on the table. “Whelp, I think this party calls for a round of shots, don’t you?”

  He was all strained, wooden smiles when he stood, pushed out his chair, and strode for the long, elegant bar situated along the far wall just outside the alcove.

  “Shit,” Lyrik muttered as he rubbed his fingers across his mouth. He and Baz shared a look I couldn’t decipher. I sat there twisting my fingers in the fabric napkin, wishing we could go back a few moments to when things were easy and all the questions that seemed to hover around Ash and me didn’t feel quite so profound.

  But there they were. Shoved in our faces. No question, all this “pretending” was catching up to us. Neither of us seemed to know what was real anymore. What we wanted or how far we could go.

  “Excuse me,” I said, deciding to stand. To make a claim or a statement, I didn’t know. Maybe my only aim was to soothe the man I could tell was set on edge. Tell him I was truly okay. That yes, I had huge regrets in my life, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t finding happiness in the here and now.

  He’d been responsible for so much of it.

  Even if this ended right here, right now, I needed him to know that.

  I eased around the table, doing my best not to feel awkward or insecure, because I was learning fast that wasn’t who I was. I paused at the threshold of the sectioned off room.

  Ash sat on a stool at the bar.

  He was set in profile, his strong, bearded jaw pronounced and defined, his hair slicked back, a button up casually rolled up his forearms to expose the ink hidden underneath.

  God.

  He was stunning.

  A magnificent, mystifying creature that tore at all my sensibilities.

  He leaned in to speak to the bartender, who angled his way, her cleavage spilling out and a seductive smirk slicked across her red lips. She was all sass and tease as she lifted a bottle and expertly poured the dark fluid over a short row of shot glasses and quickly arranged them on a tray. I watched as she then scribbled something on a napkin and slid it to him across the bar.

  He glanced down at it, and from the side, I couldn’t read his eyes. Couldn’t tell what they would say, before she said something else to him and turned to begin making another drink.

  Hurt clenched me in all those raw spots before resolve rushed in to take its place.

  I moved across the floor and came up behind him. I could see the tension ripple through his body, the apprehension that lifted his shoulders as I approached.

  That sensation grew thick. The feeling that I knew him in a way I couldn’t possibly know another man. A tether tied. Our spirits bound.

  With each step, it just kept cinching tighter and tighter.

  He slowly looked at me from over his shoulder.

  That sea of blue washed over me. Soft and warm and cautious. I edged closer. He reached out and snagged me around the waist, shifting just a fraction to pull me between his parted legs.

  A surprised breath rushed from my lungs.

  He searched my face. “You okay?”

  I nodded slowly, a smile merging with my frown. “Never mistake broken for weak.”

  Pride simmered in his gaze, and he set a warm palm on my neck. “Peaches.”

  I set my phone on the bar, fully turned to him, and fiddled with the colla
r of his shirt, stalling for just an extra second before I looked back up to meet the intensity in his eyes. “I’m fine, Ash. Honestly. I think I’ve been holding on to a lot of regrets for so much of my life. For too long. It’s time for me to start letting them go and realize I can’t go back and change it. I need to accept that no matter how badly I want them, there are some things in my life I might not ever have. It’s time to find joy in the amazing things that I do.”

  Pain lanced across his face. “Willow.”

  I shook my head. “Come on. Tonight we’re supposed to be celebrating with your family. The last thing I want to be is the spoilsport who ruined your party. That’s not the kind of ‘reputation’ I want to have.”

  He chuckled. “Darlin’, are you speaking in innuendos? I do believe I’ve been rubbing off on you.”

  My eyes widened. “Oh, I think you’ve been doing plenty of rubbing. In all the right ways.”

  “Ahh…so now her tune changes.” He gripped my hips. “Thinking I do you a whole lot better than just okay.”

  “Mmm…I’d say you do.”

  The bartender was suddenly there, pushing back into his space. Eyes full of greed as she looked at my man like she wanted to swoop in and sink in her claws. I grabbed the napkin she’d scribbled her number on and tossed it her way. “He won’t be needing that.”

  Sudden laughter ripped from his throat. He tried to contain it in the bare skin exposed above the neckline of my dress, his lips pressing to the flesh when he rumbled the words. “You are…what am I going to do with you?”

  He pulled back and placed the chastest kiss he’d ever given me on my lips. “You make me happy.”

  Emotion thickened my throat. It spread, sliding slow until it occupied everything. My heart, my thoughts, my spirit.

  You make me happy, too.

  So happy.

  I don’t want to let it go.

  Please don’t let me go.

  He leaned in and kissed me deeply.

  Softly.

  Different than he ever had, as if he were desperate to cherish these fleeting moments, too.

  He held me by both sides of my face in those big hands. Hands I’d come to trust in every way.

  My pulse rate spiked, thrummed, and churned. I swore I could feel the man beating through my veins and dripping into my bones.

  He pulled back and gazed at me. Something tender moved through his eyes.

  “When does this end?” I whispered, my mouth dry.

  His fingers twitched. “Don’t have the answer to that…not when I’m the selfish bastard who doesn’t want it to.”

  My phone dinged and lit up on the bar top. It shocked both of us out of our bubble. Our heads turned in sync, the little box at the top popping up with the notification.

  Bates.

  God.

  I needed to get a new number and erase the stain of him from my life once and for all.

  A scowl took Ash’s expression hostage. He turned back to me, his voice close to a growl. “What’s this?”

  I swallowed again, stammered. “He…he keeps—”

  He didn’t give me time to explain. Ash grabbed my phone and flipped directly into the messages.

  A picture took up the whole of the screen.

  Another of the offending pictures Bates kept flooding me with as if he might have the chance to win me back.

  But this one…this one managed to curl my stomach.

  Nausea swirled and tears pricked at my eyes.

  Ash was in bed with two women. Face down. Passed out. One of the girls had her phone held out capturing the illicit scene. The obvious aftermath of a night gone wild.

  She’d captioned it.

  #AshEvans #RockedMyWorld #Threesome #SunderSlut

  Her fifteen seconds of fame.

  Ash nearly crushed my phone in his hand.

  “Motherfucker.”

  He flew from the stool. Rage bristled.

  “Told you to tell me if that asshole was bothering you, Willow. You’ve been hiding this from me?”

  He shook his head as if he couldn’t see straight, spun on his heel, and headed for the door, his long strides full of fury. He flew outside without a parting glance.

  I stood there staring. Gasping for breath, trying to find my footing. Before I jumped into action. I scrambled after him, dodging a few chairs to make my way through.

  I pushed open the door and stepped out into the night.

  A hazy gloom stretched across the heavens, the air dense and humid. Thick. My eyes bounced left, but my body was already turning right. Drawn.

  He stood in the distance at the head of an alleyway. The intimidating man was nothing but a raging, shadowed silhouette.

  His face was upturned toward the sky with both hands pressed to the sides of his head.

  I could almost see it radiating from him.

  Anger.

  Hate.

  Maybe a little of his own regret.

  Warily, I approached, my heels clicking on the cobblestones. A warning echo in the night.

  His back went rigid when I stopped two feet behind him.

  He was still crushing my phone in his hand. “You see?”

  “What?” I challenged.

  “What I’ve been telling you all along. That I’m not good enough for you. That you deserve someone better.”

  “You never hid any of that from me.”

  Bitter laughter rumbled from his chest. “This is barely scratching the surface, darlin’.”

  “The only thing I know is the man I see…the one you’ve been showing me. He’s the one who’s changed me. Woken me up. Shaken me from my shell.”

  He laughed again, this time softer as he shook his head and slowly turned around. He lifted both his arms in surrender. I wasn’t sure the man had ever looked more broken.

  “It’s always me, Willow. I know you don’t get that. On the outside, I look like this guy who doesn’t give two fucks about a whole lot of anything. But I’m the one who’s always been responsible.”

  I blinked through the confusion.

  He sighed, roughed a hand through his hair, and stared at the dirty ground as he began to pace. “My crew…we’ve been through so much shit. So much bad stuff. Every bit of it was prompted by me.”

  He huffed an affectionate sound and jutted his chin back toward the restaurant. “They all make light of it. Laugh it off—the fact that I’m a fighter and am always looking for trouble. The next thrill. They’ve always taken up my back and never put the blame where it belonged.”

  “Ash…”

  He rubbed the back of his hand that still clutched my phone over his mouth. Like he could wipe away the sour taste. “We were just kids running the streets, learning how to live, finding out who we wanted to be. When we were twelve, guess who it was who showed up with the first six-pack he’d snagged from his dad’s cooler? Me. First time we all got high? It was me who had the bag.”

  Distress climbed into his frazzled words, and he blinked like he was seeing back to that day. “It was me who snorted that first line.”

  His face curled in agony, curling my heart right up along with it.

  “I was hooking up with this chick, and one night she brought it to the house. All just fun and games, right?” Disgust twisted his features. “Next thing we knew, things were totally fucked. Slipping out of control so fast. Before we could even make sense of it, we were pumping ourselves full of all this shit. Whatever we could get through a needle or up our noses. Me.”

  He looked to the sky like he was looking for a lifeline. “Zee’s big brother, Mark?”

  The shake of my head was short, because I’d never heard the name.

  “Used to be our drummer,” he clarified. “My best friend. Dead. OD’d. Started out on the bullshit I brought into our house.”

  He slammed a fist against his chest. “Me.”

  His head turned toward me, his stare severe. “And I’m the bastard who always seemed to manage to scrape by. The one that never quite
got hooked. It was like I was the guy who’d accidentally incited a war but was left standing on the sidelines, watching it all go down, his brothers in arms falling. One by one. And there wasn’t a goddamned thing I could do about it.”

  Harsh, hard breaths grated from his lungs. “My sister…what happened to her…that bastard raping her? It was on me.”

  Grief punched me in the gut.

  Ash kept right on. He flung a hand toward the underside of his arm, to that knot of tattoos that screamed of horror and insanity and grief. “I marked them all here. Every strike against me. So I won’t ever forget that I always manage to fuck it up. To remember not to get too deep.”

  My head spun. All I wanted was to wrap him in my arms and tell him I’d bear some of his burden, too. Promise him he was so much more than all of that. I saw it. The goodness and the kindness. Neither of us deserved to be prisoners to regret.

  He ground his teeth so hard I could hear them creaking, and he turned away, his hands going to the back of his head as he tried to draw in a breath.

  “Did you know I was going to be a dad?”

  I collided with a wall of pain. His. Mine. My entire being went rigid with the force of the shock. My legs shook and my stomach twisted.

  He turned back to look at me.

  His face was written in agony. “Me.”

  “Ash.”

  Torment poured from him, and I took a tentative step forward.

  The shake of his head was harsh. “And after all of that, Willow, after all that, I want to hunt this fucker down.”

  He lifted the phone a fraction, squeezing it in his hand.

  “I want to hunt him down and take him out. And not for what happened that night in front of your store. But because of you. Because I’m just that selfish of an asshole that I want to claim you. Tell him you’re mine. Tell him he can’t ever have you back because I’m not ever letting you go.”

  He waved the phone. “And this right here is just another reminder of why I can’t.”

  Everything spun. His words and my spirit and his heart. I could feel both of us teetering at the edge. Ready to go tumbling over.

  My phone rang.

  A crazed shout ripped from him. Incredulous and enraged. He answered it like he was going to do that very thing he promised he wanted to do.

 

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