by Aly Stiles
I stare at my mom’s number for several seconds, my mind cluttered with warring emotions. Betrayal demands I ignore her. Reason says I need to hear her out. Anger also wants me to call her back to confront her and unleash the pain she’s caused. Pride wants to delete her number altogether.
As usual, Braydon makes the final call. What’s best for him?
With a steadying breath, I press call.
Mom answers on the third ring, and my heart becomes a rogue organ, flopping around in my ribs.
“Ashton! Sweetie. How are you?”
Mom gushes her greeting in a high-pitched voice like she’s a long-lost high school friend, not a mother who abandoned her children.
“What do you want, Mom?” I ask as neutrally as possible.
She squints into the phone, and I see lights flashing and plenty of commotion behind her. Is she in a club? Would also explain why she looks drunk in mid-afternoon where she is. Guess there’s more time for partying when you don’t have pesky kids getting in your way.
“I told you I’d check in. Just wanted to see how my babies are doing.”
“You abandoned us without a word. How do you think we’re doing?” Keep it together, Ash.
Her face falls, a look of confusion spreading over her features. “How can you say that? I didn’t abandon you. I’m doing this for us, baby! Once I make it we’ll have everything we’ve ever wanted. I’m going to buy us a huge mansion with a swimming pool. Oh! And get you a brand new truck with air conditioning that actually works.”
She chuckles at her joke, as if it’s hilarious she remembers her son is driving around in a piece of shit to support them.
My teeth hurt from the violent clench of my jaw. I have to pull in several breaths to compose myself enough to respond. It’s pretty obvious I’ll be going nowhere with this conversation.
“I have to get to work, Mom.”
“Oh right! Of course, sweetie. Can I just say hi to Bray quick?”
My hand shakes from its grip on the phone. Is she fucking serious?
“Not a chance,” I snap.
She draws back in shock, and the background starts moving behind her. Soon it’s quieter and darker. She must have relocated. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Stop calling me that,” I growl. “I’m not your baby. I’m not your sweetie. Right now I’m not anything to you. And neither is Braydon.”
Her mouth hangs open as she stares at me in disbelief. “Ashton,” she whispers in horror. “How… I told you, I’m doing this for—”
“Oh my god! If you say you’re doing this for us one more time, I swear I’ll delete your number and never take a call from you again!”
Her face pinches in a wounded response, but I don’t let it affect me this time. I can’t. I can’t do this if I have to fight battles on two fronts. My mother decided to remove herself from the war, so she needs to freaking stay removed.
“You can see Bray when you get your shit together and want to be a real mother to him,” I bark and hang up the phone. “Fuck!” I cry, slamming it against the seat beside me.
I lean forward and rest my head on the steering wheel, trying to make sense of what just happened. My mother has always been delusional, but this is next level fantasy. There’s no point in even trying to reason with someone who’s gone so far off the deep end.
I lean back in my seat and study the brick wall in front of me. As much as it hurts, I only have one choice. I can’t save everyone no matter how hard I try. I’m going to have to let her crash and burn on her own and pray she doesn’t take us with her this time.
“Ashton, hey!”
I look up from the article I was reading on my phone and straighten from the wall as Leah approaches.
“Hey,” I say with a smile.
“You on break?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
She shrugs and leans beside me. “Not much. Taking a break too.”
I tuck my phone in my pocket and rest my head back against the brick. Closing my eyes, I absorb the lingering warmth of the stone, even though the sun has almost disappeared at this point. I’ve tried my best to put the conversation with my mother behind me to focus on work, but it’s getting harder as the hours drag on and the exhaustion returns. For some reason a real night of sleep seems to have made me more tired, as if my body suddenly remembered what sleep was. I won’t be so lucky tonight with another early morning back on the clock for Lane tomorrow.
On the plus side, I might get to see Iris, even if it’s just a glimpse through her window. We’ve already decided the lunch breaks can’t resume. It’s too tempting, and there are too many people around now to catch us.
“You okay?” Leah asks.
I open my eyes and angle my head toward her. “Fine, why?”
“I don’t know you’ve seemed… off since that spill the other day. No one blames you for that. We all thought that guy was a total dick.”
The spill. God, if only that were the low point of this past week. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m over it.”
“Good. Because you’re really good at this, you know,” she says softly.
I huff a laugh. “What? Waiting tables?” I regret my reaction when she deflates. “Sorry. Thanks for saying that. It’s just…” I drag in a long breath.
I don’t want to be good at waiting tables. Or carrying rocks.
Clenching my eyes shut, I force away the bitterness. “You’re really good at hosting,” I say with a sly half-smile.
A grin breaks out on her face, and I feel a little better. I pull out my phone to check the time and grunt. “Well, I have to get back.” I push away from the wall and start my retreat.
“Hey, um, Ashton?”
I stop and turn to her. She looks away, wringing her hands.
“What’s up?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything.
“Um… I mean… if you ever want to talk for real, like over coffee or something, I’m here.” Her gaze flickers to mine with so much hope. Is that how I look when I stare at Iris? My stomach drops as I let out a long breath.
“Thanks, Leah. That means a lot. I’m kind of seeing someone, though.”
Even in the dim light I can sense her blush. “Oh, right! Sorry. Duh, of course you are.” She laughs and waves off her comment. “Anyway, see you in there,” she says in an overly enthusiastic voice.
I give her the warmest smile I can muster. “For sure. Have a great night, Leah.”
She returns a weak twist of the lips, and I feel like shit.
By the time I pick up Bray later that night, I’m more than ready for a fresh start in the morning.
Dawn comes too soon, and I feel terrible dragging Braydon out of bed after keeping him out so late the night before. I’m going to have to figure out a better solution to this childcare thing. Our current system isn’t sustainable.
Marla smiles as I deposit him on her couch and tuck a blanket around him.
“Thanks again,” I whisper on my way to the door.
“Of course. Sorry I couldn’t watch him on Saturday. My daughter needed help with the baby and it’s just too much for my old body to handle anymore.”
“I totally understand. Thanks for everything you do. I’m sorry to keep asking.”
She glances at my sleeping brother before pulling me out into the hall. “What’s really going on, Ashton? Your mother isn’t sick.”
I release a heavy sigh and scrub at my face. “No.”
After a long pause, I meet her gaze and force the words out. “She left. Just dropped us a note and took off. I’m trying to work out a more permanent solution for Braydon but I need some time.” And money. And options.
Her eyes soften into the pity I hate so much. The reason I had no interest in sharing the truth in the first place.
“Of course, honey. I’m happy to help as much as I can. You let me know if you need anything else, you hear?”
I avert my gaze. “Thanks. I’ll be back around five to get him.”
The rest o
f the morning goes okay, though my stomach rocks in a persistent queasy state. Can you get seasick on dry land? I do my best to keep my head down and stay under the radar, but I’m constantly on watch for Ivy. Or a glimpse of Iris, which has my insides twisting in an entirely different direction.
My pulse pounds in distracting rhythms every time I catch sight of the pool house. Spikes of pleasure shoot through me in auto-recall, images of Iris’ perfect body and warm hands scorching my blood as much as the sun scorches my skin. When my phone buzzes shortly before ten-thirty, I’m both hoping and terrified it’s Iris.
I swallow through my parched throat at the message.
Iris: It’s torture watching you.
My gaze shoots to the window in front of me, but I can’t see anything from my vantage point. I look back down at a follow-up text.
When’s your break?
Shit.
I run my hand through my wet hair as I stare at the message. There’s nothing I want more than a passionate forbidden rendezvous with the girl of my dreams, especially in light of the fire already ripping through me. I’m practically shaking with need at this point, but she knows we can’t be together during work hours. Lane would fire me on the spot if he found out I was hooking up with one of his clients—especially on the clock.
Drawing in a painful breath, I type back, It’s torture thinking about you too, but I can’t. I want to but you know I can’t risk it.
I smile at the selfie of a pouty face that pops up in response. It’s so cute it’s going to be my background when I have time to mess with the settings. For now, I shove my phone in my pocket before I get caught. Bending down, I settle in to return to work when I sense someone’s attention. I look up, my blood running cold at Lane’s hard stare.
Double shit.
As the rest of the week progresses, it gets harder and harder to resist Iris’ messages. With my intense schedule, we haven’t spent any time together, which is a huge problem for someone who’s kind of gotten addicted to her presence. I start dreaming about her at night. Fantasizing about her during the day. By Thursday, I’m counting the seconds until we finish this project so we can move on to a safer jobsite.
I feel the buzz in my pocket around eleven, but don’t dare to check it after getting caught the other day. In fact, I wait until the others have safely left for lunch to pull out my phone on the way to my truck.
I know we said we can’t, but just this once. Please, Ashton? If you’re worried, we can meet in the laundry room.
It’s been four days since I’ve touched you.
Just five minutes, I swear.
My blood pumps violently as I stare at the string of pleas from the girl I’m craving. She thinks I don’t know how long it’s been? I can’t fucking get her out of my head. Day and night she’s there, distracting every second of my existence. Hell, I was this close to asking her to come over after Braydon was asleep last night. If I thought I’d be able to survive the rest of the week on no sleep, I would have.
The street is empty except for my truck. Everyone else left to grab lunch, which is what I should be doing as well. I never should have checked my messages.
I’m a mess, I type back, trying a new tactic.
Iris: You think I care? I’d take you any way I can get.
I groan and massage my head, leaning against the gate as I think. This is so stupid. How am I even considering it? This girl has turned my entire being upside down.
But she doesn’t understand my stakes. How could she when everything’s been handed to her? When she does take a chance, she does so with a massive safety net beneath her. I think about Bray, what we’d do if I lost this job. I’d find another, but we have no savings to get us through until then, and it would take a while to build the trust and flexibility I have with Lane.
No, like everything else, what may be a choice for her, isn’t for me. My body physically screams at me as I tell her I can’t.
I lock myself in the truck and drive away before I can change my mind.
Chapter Twenty
IRIS
I glare at my laptop, tapping my fingers lightly on the keys. I didn’t love this summer class before my long drought from Ashton. Now I downright hate it. To be honest, I haven’t loved many of my courses since starting my bachelor’s in business administration. My fantasy of standing beside my father only involved standing beside my father. It never included the actual job I’d have to do while standing there.
I love my dad more than anything. He’s compassionate, strong, and fearless, qualities I’ve been trying to emulate my entire life. But he’s also competitive and able to compartmentalize the dark side of corporate politics, while I’m neither of those things.
I want to help people, not fire them.
I want to generate the numbers, not analyze them.
I’m a doer not a director, and no matter how much I try to convince myself it’ll come over time, the thought of sitting in a board meeting or crunching numbers while scouring a P&L report sends a shiver of dread through me. The more I learn about this kingdom, the less interested I am in ruling it. If I could drop out of school and volunteer at the women’s shelter full-time, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
Thing is, it’s so important to Dad that one of his children follow in his footsteps and take over the family empire. Heaven knows that child won’t be Ivy, so that leaves me. Responsible, dutiful, people-pleaser me to pick up the reins and accept the crown of successor. I’ve never expressed any of my doubts to him, and after years of letting him think this is what I want, I can’t stomach the thought of crushing him with the truth. So for now, I suffer through the latest excruciating textbook.
Still, I’m due for a break.
I pull up one of the few photos I have of Ashton, a selfie we took on Sunday before he left for work. He looks so happy in this image, almost carefree. Maybe that’s why I love it so much. It’s the only time I get to see him like that. Even when he’s not being crushed under the weight of another crisis, he never seems at peace.
I trace his gorgeous smile, remembering how it tastes. His wet hair when I tangle my fingers in it. His rigid body that works me up just from a passing glimpse. His stunning soul that shines through those hazel eyes and blasts you in the heart when you least expect it.
Five days. It’s been five days since I got to experience anything more than a brief video chat or text exchange. And the worst part is, he’s been an arm’s length away this entire time.
I know I shouldn’t, but indulging in that photo has stoked the smoldering embers lodged in my belly since Sunday. I wanted him before then. Now, it’s a throbbing need that I can’t satisfy no matter how hard I try. And yes, I’ve tried several times in several ways with several methods.
Moving to my window, I stare out over the pool, watching Lane’s crew clean up the patio. The project is basically finished. Ashton said this is probably his last day on our property, and from here on out it will just be an occasional drop-in from one of the other guys to take care of punch-list items. The thought leaves a jagged hole in my chest. Even if I can’t talk to him or touch him, at least he’s here. There’s comfort in knowing we’re so close all day.
He lifts a bag of something heavy and hoists it over his shoulder, carrying it around the house and out of view. I check the time with an anxious look and see it’s almost four. They must be loading up the truck to leave. This is it. After today it’s going to be even harder to keep him in my world.
Do you work at the restaurant tonight? I type.
I watch him pull out his phone as he comes back into view, my heart racing when he glances toward the window to the great room. He’s looking for me. If only he knew I’ve been a constant voyeur this week. Or what we’ve been doing in my head all day, every day while I sat alone in my room.
No I’m off. But I have to pick up Bray.
Me: What time? Can you just stay for a few minutes?
He swipes his hand over his face like he does when he’s conf
licted. Good, it means I’m getting to him. Maybe he feels a fraction of the pain gnawing me from the inside out.
Ashton: I said five, but maybe I can see if he can stay an extra hour.
My pulse pounds in excitement, and I rush to the bathroom to freshen up. Crap, he’ll want to as well. I know from experience he won’t let me touch him until he does. I chew on my lip, deciding we can maximize our time together with a joint shower in my bathroom, followed by a full reprise of Sunday’s pool house encounter—except this time I’m more prepared.
A few minutes later, my phone dings with a message, and I scoop it up in anticipation.
Everyone’s gone.
I grin and burst from the room.
Meet me at the back door, I reply.
My heart explodes in my chest when I pull it open to find him standing there, looking shy and uncertain like he always does when he enters the house. I reach out and grab his wrist, dragging him inside before he can change his mind.
“Shit. My boots.”
I grunt and let him go so he can slide them off and drop them outside the door. But I grossly miscalculated my willpower when he returns.
The violent allergic reaction erupts the second I pull him back, sending a rush of heat from my fingers on his wrist through my entire body. I don’t care that he’s sweaty or covered in dust. He’s Ashton and right now that’s all that matters. He chuckles through my kiss, returning it for a moment before gently pulling back.
“Hey,” he says with a soft smile.
“Hey,” I say, grinning back. Gosh, he’s beautiful. Painfully so. I reach up and tuck a lock of damp hair behind his ear. “I’ve missed you so much. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry I’m not around much.”
I hate that he’s apologizing. That I’ve made him feel like he has to. “You know I understand.”
