The Right Way

by Ashey, Katie

  I shook my head. “Nope. She’s doomed.”

  “She is pretty sweet though.”

  “Yep. She’s an angel.”

  A dreamy expression came over Presley’s face. “How beautiful was she today?”

  “Absolutely gorgeous.” Nudging her shoulder, I said, “Just like her mother.”

  “Thanks, babe.” Presley leaned over to kiss my cheek.

  Now that we were far enough away from the others, I stopped walking. “I have a wedding gift for you.”

  Her brows creased in confusion. “For me?”

  “Yep.”

  With a laugh, she replied, “You’re supposed to get a wedding present for the bride and groom.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that.” Reaching in my tux pocket, I pulled out a small box. Although it was larger than a ring box, Presley’s eyes still widened. From her expression, I could tell the wheels in her head were spinning out of control.

  “Before I give this to you, I need to explain something.”

  “Okay,” she answered warily.

  “It’s not an engagement ring.”

  Both relief and disappointment flickered in her eyes. “What is it then?”

  “Open it and find out.”

  Nibbling her lip, she then tore apart the ribbon and popped open the lid. After removing the tissue paper, she pulled out a gold key. She held it up in front of her. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s a key to a townhouse I just put a deposit on.” After I’d graduated last year, I’d decided to go ahead and pursue my MBA. To do that, I would need to move back home to save money. Although I’d known Mom would be on board with it, Dad surprised the hell out of me by not losing his shit at the idea. I’d lived like a cheap bastard the last twelve months to be able to plan for not just my future, but Presley’s and Evie’s as well.

  Presley gasped. “You’re moving out?”

  Nodding, I replied, “More importantly, you and Evie are moving out.”

  “Y-You want me to live with you?”

  “Considering we already live together, I didn’t think you’d be this shocked,” I mused.

  She rolled her eyes. “Sharing a bedroom at your parents’ house isn’t the same as having a place of our own,” she countered.

  “That’s true. We wouldn’t have to worry about you being too loud during sex.”

  With a shriek, she playfully smacked my arm. “I’m not that loud.”

  “You’re pretty loud.” I slid an arm around her waist and drew her against me. “But you drive me wild with the sounds you make.”

  She ran her free hand up my chest. “What else can I do when you’re giving me such pleasure?”

  Groaning, I replied, “Keep talking, and I’m going to push you up against one of these trees and take you right here.”

  “Don’t tease me.” Seeing an in, I dipped my head to kiss her, but Presley pushed me away. “Nope. Not happening.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Normally I wouldn’t object, but if we were caught, it would tarnish Noah and Maddie’s wedding. The last thing I would ever do is something to hurt them.”

  “I’m pretty sure if Pastor Dan, caught wind of it, we’d give him an early heart attack.”

  Presley giggled. “I agree.” She turned her gaze from me back to the key in her left hand. “We’re really doing this, huh?”

  “If you’ll have me.”

  “You know I will.”

  A sigh of relief came from my lips. “I’d say it’s a pretty big step on the road to commitment.”

  “It is.”

  I brought one of my hands up to touch her cheek. “I am committed to you, Presley. There is no one else for me, and there never will be.”

  Closing her eyes, she turned her face into my hand. “There’s no one else for me either.”

  “I don’t have a ring yet, but I will. Because you’re mine forever. We’re going to be a family in our new place.”

  A serene expression came over her face. “I don’t need a ring, Jonathan. Just you and Evie. I love you. And I can’t wait to see our new place.”

  “I was kinda worried you’d be pissed I went ahead and picked out a place without getting your input.”

  She laughed. “I’ll let you make it up to me with color scheme choices and furniture.”

  With a frustrated grunt, I replied, “Maybe I can see if they can let us take a look at a few others in the complex before you bleed me dry.”

  “How can you possibly deny your daughter the home of her dreams?”

  “This isn’t the home of her dreams.”

  “It’s not?”

  I shook my head. “It’s just a stepping stone to the home of our dreams—the one we’ll have when we get married, which I hope will be shortly after you get pinned in nursing school.”

  “Two more years?”

  “Too long?”

  She grinned. “I think it’s just right.”

  “And as far as Evie goes, I’m pretty sure all she’ll care about is the swing set in the backyard.”

  Presley’s eyes widened. “There’s a swing set?”

  I winked. “No. But there will be.”

  “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  “Everything to make my girls happy.”

  Presley brought her lips to mine. “Thank you for making me so happy.”

  I leaned my forehead against hers. “Thank you for saving me.”

  At my words, tears sparkled in her eyes. “I can say the same thing to you.”

  “We saved each other.”

  As she nodded, I swiped the tears from her cheeks. We stayed there wrapped up in each other for a few moments. I think we were both too overwhelmed to speak.

  Glancing past me to the country club, Presley smiled. “Come on. Let’s get back and make sure Evie hasn’t lost her shit with your parents.”

  I threw my head back and laughed. Hand in hand we started across the grass. With the stars twinkling over our heads, I couldn’t believe what an incredibly lucky bastard I was. After so many wrong turns and difficult paths, I’d finally found the right way.

  About the Author

  Katie Ashley is a New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon Top Five Best-Selling author of both Indie and Traditionally published books. She's written rockers, bikers, manwhores with hearts of gold, New Adult, and Young Adult. She lives outside of Atlanta, Georgia with her daughter, Olivia, her rescue mutts, Belle and Elsa, and her two cats, Mama Kitty and Luna. She has a slight obsession with The Golden Girls, Shakespeare, Harry Potter, and Star Wars.

  With a BA in English, a BS in Secondary English Education, and a Masters in Adolescent English Education, she spent eleven years teaching both middle and high school English, as well as a few adjunct college English classes. As of January 2013, she became a full-time writer.

  Although she is a life-long Georgia peach, she loves traveling the country and world meeting readers. Most days, you can find her being a hermit, styling leggings, and binging on Netflix whenever her toddler daughter isn't monopolizing the TV with Paw Patrol or Frozen.

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  Excerpt from Don’t Hate the Player

  Chapter One

  As I slowly drifted back into consciousness, my knee jerked upward, banging against the desk. “SHIT!” flashed like neon in my mind, and I had to bite my lip to keep it from escaping out my mouth. Instead, I peered around the room, trying to gage whether the noise alerted anybody to my nap.

  Nope. The coast was clear. Everyone else in the classroom looked stoned or s
paced out. Mr. Jones, a man who was a cross between Clay Aiken and Pee Wee Herman, was perched on his stool in the front of the room, droning on and on about the evils of Big Brother in 1984.

  I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling. Jesus, the man must have a screw loose. I mean, it was the first day back after Spring Break and what was he doing? Lecturing.

  What a dumbass.

  I could have assured Mr. Jones that no one gave a flying shit about George Orwell. Half the class was still hung over from the previous week’s antics. Even the usual goody two shoes wore expressions of pure boredom as their pens hung in midair over their notebooks.

  I ran a hand through my dark hair, hoping to smooth down some of the places that looked like “desk hair’ where I’d been napping. My mouth felt the way I imagined a moldy gym sock would taste, so I rifled through my pockets to find a piece of gum. I chewed on it as I glanced down at my cell phone. No new messages.

  Where the hell is Jake? I couldn’t help wondering. Jake Nelson was the biggest douchebag I’ve ever known. He was the prankster who always gave Freshman swirlies in the toilets or shanked them, leaving them bare-assed and humiliated in front of the entire school. He was the illiterate jock who always wanted to copy off your homework or cheat off your test. He was the idiot who could never hold his alcohol and always ended up puking in the back seat of your car before slurring an “I looove you, man!” Yeah, he was all those things and more.

  Most of all he was my best friend.

  Our friendship was cemented in kindergarten. That’s when Jake decided to duct tape me to my chair before recess. There’s a saying in the South that “Duct tape’ll fix anything.” Yeah, I’m a living testament to that. It will certainly render a five year old captive to a plastic chair until hostage negotiators—or your teacher—comes to the rescue. Once the tape was removed, along with the first layer of my epidermis, I had a new friend.

  Years later, the story of how we met was one of Jake's favorite stories to tell. Usually it was right after some hot as hell girl asked about that distorted patch of skin on my right arm where hair refused to grow because the follicles had been damaged by duct-tape. "What happened?" she'd ask, eyes wide with compassion as she traced the area playfully with a finger. They always hoped for a good story – I'd been burned in a fire trying to save the neighbor's newborn baby, or it was from the time I skidded out on my motorcycle trying to outrun the State Troopers. But like the true douchebag he was, Jake always shot that fantasy down within seconds. "Dude," he'd say, sloshing his beer out of the cheap plastic cup that seemed permanently attached to his hand from Friday night til Sunday morning. "Jake…" I’d begin, my eyes pleading with him to drop it and not go there for the hundredth time. "Get this. I duct taped him to his chair when we were five." "Jake, shut the fuck up!" Ignoring me, Jake would snicker. "He like, practically pissed himself he was so scared when Mrs. Cook ripped that shit off." I rolled my eyes thinking about him. He was supposed to get home from his grandparent’s farm late last night, but instead, he’d sent me a text around ten saying he was blowing off the first day back and would be home around three if I wanted to hang out after school. It was ironic that Jake, the unofficial King of Partying, spent his Spring Break off chillin’ in the mountains among rolling pastures filled with steaming cow patties rather than hitting the sandy white beaches and orgies of Panama City or Daytona. Of course, he always managed to raise some hell while he was away or take advantage of some hillbilly girl high off moonshine.

  The last time I’d heard from him was around eight this morning when he’d sent me a cryptic text during first period that read I fucked up. She’s gonna be pissed! I took it to mean he’d done something stupid to piss his mom off. But after my last few Dude, WTF? texts had gone unanswered, I was seriously beginning to think he was in major trouble—like blue lights and handcuffs trouble.

  Suddenly, a voice came over the intercom.

  “Mr. Jones?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Jones answered impatiently, clearly pissed that the powers that be had dared to interrupt his literary ramblings.

  “We need Noah Sullivan to Administrative Services, please.”

  At the sound of my name, I shot upright in my chair, straightening my slouching posture. Administrative Services? Once again, SHIT! flashed in my mind as I frantically tried to figure out what I’d done wrong.

  “I’ll send him up,” Mr. Jones replied, giving me a disapproving look.

  Without a word, I gathered up my books and left the room. Part of me was thrilled to be spared one more minute of British Lit, but at the same time, I was a little concerned that I’d been summoned to administration.

  Out in the hallway, I ran into my cousin, Alex. He raised his dark eyebrows at me. “You got called up too?”

  I nodded. “What do you think is up?”

  Alex shrugged while his dark eyes twinkled. “Beats the shit outta me. I’m just stoked to be getting outta AP Government right now!”

  I laughed. “Tell me about it. Jones is on one of his freakin’ tirades again.”

  “Damn, I gotta sit through that shit next period,” Alex moaned, and then he shuddered. “Having Brit Lit with Jones the last period of the day blows.”

  Before we could get to the administrators’ suite, Mr. Elliot, one of the assistant principals, rerouted us to the auditorium. When Alex and I strolled through the double doors, there were twenty or so kids scattered throughout the first three rows. I noticed immediately that they were some of Creekview’s A-crowd of popularity—football and basketball players, cheerleaders. It was most of the “crew”, so to speak, that Jake and I hung out with on a daily basis.

  Dr. Blake, the principal, and three counselors stood solemnly at the edge of the stage.

  “Damn. Must be something pretty serious,” Alex murmured.

  “I’m so whipping Jake’s ass if this has anything to do with us skipping out on Friday,” I hissed.

  Since most of the “the crew” had different plans for our week off, Jake had thrown what he called a Pre-Break Binge on the Friday we got out of school. When it was just us, he’d called it his “Going Out of Partying Party” since he claimed to be turning over a new leaf. I didn’t believe him for one minute, but I let him think I did. Jake always had a way of coming up with these bat-shit crazy ideas that seemed cool to him in the moment, but in the end, he’d always abandon them. He struggled with the follow through.

  So, we’d basically all skipped school right after lunch and went over to his house. By three, the party was completely out of hand with drunken beer pong, half-naked people, and one fist fight. Luckily, everyone spilt before Jake’s parents got home at six.

  Alex and I slid into a seat on the front row. The Homecoming Queen and reigning Ice Princess, Avery Moore, glanced up at me and smiled. “Hey,” she whispered.

  “Hi.”

  “Where’s Jake?”

  I shrugged. “On his way home from the mountains I guess.”

  Dr. Blake interrupted our conversation by clearing her throat. She then took a tentative step forward. “I’ve just been informed of some very distressing news,” she began.

  I cringed. I didn’t know how in the hell she’d gotten wind of the Pre Spring Break Binge, but by the look on her face, she had the goods on all of us. Great, I was going to be in deep shit at school but even worse at home when my mom found out.

  Dr. Blake stared down at the auditorium tile for a few minutes, trying to gain her composure. Finally, she glanced back up at us. “In this age of technology, it’s hard to keep news of this kind a secret for long. Since we were only notified thirty minutes ago, the counselors and I have tried to find the easiest and least detrimental way to tell you all. Sadly, there’s not a strategic plan in place that we can follow when something like this happens.” Dr. Blake drew in a ragged breath. “More than anything, I wish that there was an easier way for you to find out—that there had been time to call your parents and families to have them here to temper the tragic news by
comforting you all.”

  Hmm, okay, maybe this wasn’t about the Spring Break Binge. Furrowing my brows, I turned to Alex who shrugged his broad shoulders.

  “What happened Dr. Blake?” Avery demanded from my other side.

  Chewing her bottom lip, Dr. Blake’s gaze flickered to one of the counselors who bobbed their head. “I regret to inform you that Jake Nelson was killed this afternoon.”

  A collective gasp of pure horror rang throughout the auditorium. I jolted back in my seat like I’d been shot with a taser gun. An icy feeling pricked and stung its way over my body like I’d never experienced before in my life, causing me to shudder. Jake was…dead. No, no, no! Someone had to be fucking with us. Guys like Jake didn’t die.

  Like in some freaky outta body experience, I heard my voice croak, “What the fuck?”

  Dr. Blake glanced over at me. Instead of riding my ass for cussing, she just gave me a sad look. Slowly, I found my voice again. “Are you positive it was Jake? I mean, he’s not even in town, so it might not have been him. I mean, when did it happen? Where did it happen?” The questions seemed to continuously fumble out, and I began to wonder if I should clap my hand over my mouth to stop them.

  “I’m so very sorry, Noah, but I was notified by Jake’s father.” She drew in a deep breath before she continued. “It seems that Jake and some of his friends were hanging out, shooting at cans when a bullet ricocheted—”

  “Jake was shot?” I demanded. In my mind, I pictured a group of hillbilly vigilantes or the Dixie Mafia taking him out.

  Dr. Blake’s expression became pained. “No—it seems he was sitting on his grandfather’s tractor when the bullet ricocheted off a tree, hitting the fuel tank.”

  At the realization of Jake’s fiery end, I fought the bile rising in my throat. I pinched my eyes shut and willed myself not to blow chunks on the auditorium floor. Jake had been blown up. Jesus, that was too horrible to even imagine. A car accident was one thing, but to be blown up…fuck, that was gruesome. The girls around me gasped, and some began crying. Avery reached out and grabbed my hand in hers. She started doing this horrible hiccupping, hyperventilating cry. Her frantic eyes met mine. Momentarily my own grief and potential freak-out were forgotten as I focused on the fact Avery was seriously about to lose her shit.