Ripping my eyes away from the two of them, I look toward Ashton. His expression is tight, his jaw tics, his eyes a little wet.
I open my mouth to say something but I don’t get the chance because the buzzer goes off.
“Shit,” he mutters, twisting away from me and slamming his hand down on the button to let whoever it is in.
I narrow my eyes at him, wondering who it is as he runs his fingers through his messy hair and looks up to the ceiling.
Whoever it is apparently doesn’t need dressing up for because he doesn’t make any effort to go to his room to find some clothes.
“Who is it?” I ask, finally finding my voice.
He turns to me, his eyes dark and cold in a way I remember all too well. I told myself in the bathroom last night that it was a one-night thing. I knew this, yet looking at him right now, knowing that was exactly what it was. It hurts. It really fucking hurts.
Everything in me wants to walk over and wrap my arms around his waist, to tell him that everything is going to be okay. But I don’t think he’d even accept it if I tried.
His lips never so much as part to answer me, although his eyes do run the length of my body, lingering on the red marks that aren’t hidden by the open hoodie and bralette I’d pulled on.
There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later and he wastes no time in answering it.
I haven’t looked at the time, I haven’t even thought to. But the second I hear a familiar voice, I realize my mistake. My stupidity.
“Morning, are you both—” Stephen stops talking the second his eyes land on Ash, they narrow, harden, and then turn on me.
I should wrap my hoodie around myself, cover up the marks that Ashton was staring at only seconds ago, but under his angry stare—much like his son’s—I’m frozen, powerless to do anything but stand there and be judged by him.
“No,” Stephen says after long, excruciating seconds. “No, Ash. No.”
“Stephen, it’s okay,” Mom says, shocking the fuck out of me. She places her hand on his shoulder and he visibly relaxes.
“It’s... it’s...” he stutters, looking back to Ash, who doesn’t look like he really gives a shit about anything right now, let alone his father’s opinions about his decisions. Then Stephen’s spine goes ramrod straight and he turns on Mom. “Wait,” he spits. “You knew... about this.” He aimlessly waves his arm around behind, kinda pointing to the two of us. “And you never told me.”
“I found out yesterday at the funeral, I thought we’d already had enough drama for one day. I was going to tell you once we got home.”
“Well, it’s a little late for that now, don’t you think?” he barks in a tone I have never heard him use with Mom—or with anyone before.
Stephen spins back around, pinning Ash with a look as he storms over to me.
“How could you?” he spits at his son. “I trusted you, Ashton.”
Stephen wraps his arm around my shoulders and holds me as if I’m his only child who’s bleeding out in front of him. Only, I’m not. I’m not his, Ashton is. And Ashton looks like something possessed right now as he glances between the two of us, at his dad supporting me, not him.
“I’m sorry I fucked up your precious little Ruby, Dad.”
Stephen gasps, his grip on me tightening as Ash spins on his heels and storms toward his bedroom.
“Wait,” Mom cries. “Our flight is in a couple of hours. We need to know what you’re doing, how we’re getting Stephen’s car back.”
Ashton stops, the muscles in his back tense. My heart is already racing from the events of the past few minutes but as I wait for him to say something, I realize just how badly I want him to tell our parents that we’re driving back together so we can have some more time, but deep down, I know. I knew when I first woke this morning. I knew when he turned to me before our parents arrived. This is it. It’s over.
“I’ll drive the car back, Ruby is flying with you.”
“No, wait,” I say, stepping out of Stephen’s hold and moving toward him. “I can come with you. So you’re not alone,” I say quietly just to him.
He flinches at my words, but he doesn’t turn to me, he doesn’t even look over his shoulder at me. Instead, he just breaks my heart right there in front of our parents while not even giving me the time of day.
“I don’t want you, Ruby.” Then he marches forward, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
A sob erupts but I manage to catch it in my throat.
I knew this was coming. I knew when the sun came up this morning that everything would change once again. I knew, and yet I allowed myself to think—to hope—that maybe, just maybe it wouldn’t end and that last night actually meant something to him.
But he just proved that he really is just the boy with the barbed words and vicious touch.
I suck in a deep breath through my nose and then blow it out through my mouth, trying to calm myself. No one needs me to fall apart right now.
I need to pick myself back up and move on like all is right in the world, that is until I get home and lock myself in my bedroom. All bets are off then.
“How long until we need to be at the airport?” I ask without looking back. I know that if I so much as glance at Mom right now, then I’ll break. I can already picture the soft, sympathetic look in her eyes, that’s bad enough, I don’t need to look into them.
She might not have been on board with this yesterday, actually, she’s probably happy about this right now, but I know that her concern for me will override that, right now at least.
“We need to be there in an hour ideally,” Stephen answers.
“Okay. Um... have a seat, I won’t be—”
Ashton’s door opens once more and my words vanish into thin air as I stare at him. He’s once again dressed head to toe in black, his hood is pulled high up on his head and his eyes are trained on the floor.
Even if I wanted to speak to him right now, I know that even trying would be pointless. He’s built those walls up so high, I have no chance of scaling them. Possibly ever.
“Ashton?” Stephen says, his voice full of the concern that was missing for his only child when he first walked in.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get your car back. And if you’re lucky, it might even be in one piece, unlike your precious daughter,” he spits, ripping the door open and storming through it.
The silence rings out for long seconds after he disappears.
“Right, well...” I force out through the suffocating lump in my throat. “I’d better get my stuff packed then.”
I’m in the doorway of Ash’s bedroom with my eyes locked on the floor, afraid to look up and see the bed or any of his belongings that are going to shatter the fraying grip I have on my emotions right now.
“Ruby, are you—”
“I’m fine, Mom,” I snap, really not needing to get into this right now—or ever. “There’s a coffee machine on the counter, please could you make me one?”
“S-sure, sweetie. Coming right up. Stephen?”
I don’t hear his response because I kick the door shut with my foot. I want to stop, mull over what’s just happened but I know that if I do so much as think about him then I’m going to fall apart faster than I can control. Right now, I just need to focus on what needs to be done. I need to get dressed, pack, and get to the airport. Real life is calling. Cheer is calling. Nationals are calling.
He doesn’t want me... that’s fine. I’ve got other, more important, things in my life besides Ashton freaking Fury.
26
Ashton
I knew what had to be done before I even closed my eyes last night. And knowing it was coming ripped me in two. But I couldn’t be selfish enough to keep her.
She’s already put up with more than she should have to when it comes to me. Her place isn’t here with me. It’s in Rosewood with her squad, her friends, her life.
This has just been a dream... or a fucking nightmare depending on which way you look at it.
/>
I was up before the sunrise this morning knowing that I couldn’t be lying beside her when she woke and turned those huge green eyes on me.
I’ve let her in more than anyone, ever, and now I was going to have to pay the price.
My father’s reaction to discovering what had been going on only confirmed that it was time to pull the plug. Focusing on that, helped to brush aside the way he went to her thinking that all I was capable of doing was hurting her.
Last night was the opposite of that. The kisses, the touches, the murmured words. None of that hurt. This morning though, it’s fucking agony.
Yesterday, I said goodbye to the woman who gave me life, and this morning I feel like I might have just said goodbye to the one who might just have brought me back to life.
I walk for hours through the city, until I know they are all long gone. It’s going to be bad enough walking back into that apartment and smelling her perfume, sensing her presence, I really don’t need to see her again.
The sun is once again beginning to drop when I finally get back to the building and walk up the stairs.
I don’t want to be here, but aside from Rosewood, I literally have nowhere else in the world to go.
I push the key in the lock and step inside.
Looking around, I see them both everywhere.
Mom in the kitchen cooking, singing along to her favorite music. Ruby curled up asleep on the couch the first day we arrived.
I stumble back against the door, the memories playing out in my head like a movie as I slide down and hit the floor.
I sit there for the longest time, running through different times in my life, fond memories from years ago, some more recent with a certain little brunette but while they all might bring me some kind of comfort, they’re all agonizing at the same time. Just constant reminders of all the ways I’ve fucked up and all the things I’ve lost.
By the time a knock sounds out above my head, my ass is numb and my stomach growls for food.
I sigh, stand to my feet, and pull the door open. I have no idea who it is, but quite frankly if there’s a guy standing at the other side with a gun ready to put a bullet through my head so he can rob the place then he can have at it for all I care.
“Willow?” My brows pull together at the sight of her standing there with takeout in her arms and a soft expression on her face.
It’s not unusual for her to be here, hell, she and the boys have been here more times than I can count. But why now? Why today?
“Thought you might be hungry,” she says, lifting the bag in case I hadn’t already seen it.
“Come in.”
She immediately makes herself at home, pulling plates down from the cupboard and dishing up the food.
“I brought this too,” she says, holding up a bottle of vodka.
“Great, can we just have that?” I mutter, sitting on the couch with my elbows on my knees and my head hanging pathetically between my shoulders.
“Nope,” she announces happily, making me groan.
“Here. You look like shit, you need to eat something.” She thrusts a plate at me, forcing me to sit up and take it. The smell makes my stomach growl loudly, so loudly that it makes her laugh before the words “I told you so,” slip from her lips.
“Whatever,” I mutter, grabbing the fork and diving in.
“So...” she asks, joining me on the couch with her own plate.
“So...” I counter, really not in the mood to talk about anything but fearing that she’s not going to let me get away without. Why couldn’t it have been one of the guys who came with food? None of them would give a shit about how I’m feeling right now. They’d just let me get drunk and forget it all.
“You let her go.”
“Yeah, she needed to go home.”
“Yeah, I know that, but home isn’t what I’m talking about, Ash.” She pins me with a look that tells me that she knows exactly what I’ve done.
“You’ve spoken to her?”
She shrugs, guilt passing over her face.
“Fucking hell.” I should have known those two would get along, team up against me.
“I may have found her on Instagram and sent a message or two, yeah. She’s home safe, by the way, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t,” I lie.
“Sure.” She raises a knowing brow at me before going back to her own dinner.
The silence is deafening but it’s better than the kind of conversation she wants to have with me, so I’ll take it.
Sadly, it doesn’t last, and not a second after Willow slides her empty plate onto the coffee table does she curl her feet under her and turn my way.
“She cares about you, you know that, right?”
I don’t respond and it pisses her off.
“For fuck’s sake, Ashton. That girl could well be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“You don’t even know her,” I point out.
“No, maybe not. But I know you.” She narrows her eyes at me. “The way you look at her, the way you are with her. She’s different. And—” she quickly adds before I get a chance to say anything. “Don’t even think about lying to me.”
“I... I...” I stutter, trying to come up with something to say.
“I’ve watched you with all those other sluts, Ash. I’ve seen the way you look at them, treat them as if they’re nothing more than a toy for you to play with. That was not how you looked at her.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I spit, panicking that she’s touching so close to the truth.
“Like fuck I don’t. Pushing her away isn’t going to help anyone. Least of all you right now.”
“How do you know what I need right now?” I bark, not thinking any better of it.
“Nice, Ash. Real fucking nice.”
Guilt swamps me as tears fill her eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Low. I didn’t mean.”
“I know, I know,” she says, pulling herself back together. “I get it, Ash. I really fucking do. I also know that you don’t need to be alone right now, especially not when you’ve got a girl desperate to support you.”
“Yeah, well... she shouldn’t. I’ve been nothing but an ass to her since we met. I’m pretty sure these past few days were just a sympathy vote because I was grieving. She let me—”
“Seriously, Ash. You really believe that?”
No. “Yeah, what else is there. She hates me, and the feeling is fairly mutual.”
“Riiight. You’re a fucking idiot, Ashton, you know that?”
I shrug.
“So what’s the plan?” she asks, finally steering clear of any conversation to do with Ruby. “The rent must be up on this place soon.”
“End of the week,” I admit. I’ve been trying not to think about it. This place was our life and now I’m supposed to empty it, get rid of all our stuff like it means nothing.
“Okay so...”
I shrug again and it gets her back up. “Stop it. Stop trying to act all nonchalant. It doesn’t fucking suit you.”
“I’m just trying to get through this, Low. I don’t know how else to fucking do it.”
“Where do you want to start?”
“What?”
“Where do you want to start? Her bedroom? Get the most painful bit done first.”
A chill runs through my body at the thought of going through all of Mom’s stuff and getting rid of it all. Low must see my reaction because she reaches out and takes my hand in hers.
“It’s okay, Ash. I’ll help with whatever you need.”
I hold her eyes for a few seconds. “You’re a good friend, Low.”
A small smile twitches at her lips. “I’m glad you think so because something tells me that you need one right now.”
I blow out a long breath before reaching forward and downing whatever drink it was she made me.
“I’ll get the trash bags.”
I push from the couch, taking both our plates through to the k
itchen before grabbing the bags and the bottle of vodka and walking to Mom’s bedroom door without putting much thought into it.
The thought of doing this alone terrifies me, but having Low here... well, it makes it that little bit better.
I push the door open and walk into the room, letting the scent that still lingers fill my nose.
Fuck, I miss her.
I sense Willow come to stand in the doorway behind me and I turn to look at her.
A sad smile plays on her lips as she stares back.
I appreciate her being here so much right now, but I can’t help wishing she were someone else.
“You’re wishing I was her, aren’t you?”
My lips part but no words pass.
“It’s okay to want her, to need her, Ash. It’s also okay to be scared. Focus on this, get the apartment sorted and then once you’ve had a few days to process everything, go to her. Talk to her. Be honest with her. Show her what’s really in here.” She taps two fingers to my chest above my heart before wrapping her arms around my shoulders and holding me tight.
It takes me a few seconds to return her embrace, but when I do, I’m glad I did.
There’s never been anything between Willow and me, aside from the fact I know her brother would castrate me if I ever were to touch her—me and any of the boys—it’s just never been like that between us. To me, she is just one of the guys. Just slightly better to look at.
“Okay, let’s do this. I can do this.”
27
Ruby
The journey home is excruciating. Stephen’s anger never leaves. Every time he pins Mom with a look, I swear she’s about to go up in flames. Mom looks to be on the edge of bursting into tears every thirty seconds, regret clear to see swimming behind them. I, on the other hand, am just numb.
The farther I get from him, the more I feel like I left something behind.
As much as I suspected it was coming, his rejection hurts.
There’s barely a word spoken between the three of us the entire trip. I spend the entire time with a painful knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat that stops me from eating or doing anything that might be a distraction.
FURY: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Rosewood High Book 6) Page 21
