by J. L. Perry
Our position doesn’t waver for the longest time, but he eventually draws back.
Exhaling a long breath, he stares at me. A torn expression now marring his gorgeous face like he’s wrestling internally with some major conflict.
Ashton’s tortured eyes are locked with mine as his unsteady hand cups his cheek. And there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes me anxious.
“Are you okay?” I ask as an uneasy feeling settles over me.
Swallowing hard, he blinks a few times. And it takes a few moments before I finally see what’s written on his face. Regret. Soul-wrenching, heart-crushing, regret.
My stomach drops.
God, please don’t.
Ashton must see the pleading in my eyes because he lets me go, rolls over, and maneuvers himself until he’s sitting on the side of the bed, his back now to me as he rests his elbows on his knees, burying his face deep in his hands. My heart races as the realization hits me full force.
No, not him too.
I hold my breath as I wait for him to say something, anything. One word, one slither of information that’s going to prove me wrong. But, he remains silent.
“Ashton,” I breathe as I sit up and scurry over to his side of the bed. Dragging myself up on to my knees, I rest my chin on his shoulder as my arms snake around his body. “Talk to me.” I can hear the fear in my voice.
Seconds pass before he finally speaks, “I can’t do this,” he chokes out. “Whatever this is between us, it needs to end. I can’t let you fall in love with me.”
His words are like a punch in the gut, the force knocking all the air from my lungs. I release him, falling back on my haunches. Shock radiates through me as I try to gulp in some air. The room starts to spin. “Please,” I beg, as tears fill my eyes. “Don’t do this.”
Ashton sighs, shaking his head from side to side. “Please believe me when I say the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”
“Then don’t… don’t hurt me.”
He stands, briefly observing me over his shoulder. The pain on his face palpable, shattering my heart into a million tiny pieces. That look alone says so much. My tears are coming thick and fast as my desperate eyes bore into his.
He turns, staring straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with me. “I’m sorry… I’m so s-sorry, sweet-thing,” his voice cracks as he speaks. “You need to go.” Ashton crosses the room without another word. I hear the lock click on the bathroom door once it closes behind him, and the bottom falls out of my world.
I stay unmoving for the longest time, still struggling to come to terms with what just happened.
What just happened?
How can the best day of my life turn into the worst in a blink of an eye?
A strangled sob escapes me as I scamper off the bed. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand as I try to regain my composure. The shock slowly turns to confusion, then the anger settles in. I’m a fool, nothing but a gullible fool. I fell for it yet again.
A myriad of questions flitter through my mind.
But what rings truest is, why am I not enough?
Why am I never enough?
Dashing around the room, I scoop up my clothes as I go. I need to get out of here. I need to get as far away from this man as possible. I’ve been deceived in the worst possible way. He played me. I opened up to him, more than I’ve ever opened up to anyone in my life.
I trusted him.
I fucking trusted him.
That’s what hurts the most.
The betrayal.
I let him see all of me, the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Damn. Maybe that’s where I went wrong?
I finally let my walls down and opened myself up. I took a leap of faith and look where that got me.
I’m done. So fucking done.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that things happen for a reason, they’re supposed to teach us something. I’m not sure what the lesson is here, though. Perhaps it’s as simple as be careful who you give your heart to.
My mind is in a haze as I dress in record time and run from his bedroom, down two flights of stairs and out the front door. I only make it past a few houses before I stop, realizing I left my handbag inside. I have no money. No phone. No car.
I can’t go back in there. I just can’t.
What am I going to do?
I’ll run all the way home if I have to.
I take off at a lightning pace. My chest hurts, my lungs burn, and my muscles ache all over from everything we did last night, but I welcome the pain. It’s better than feeling numb.
Shame sets in.
I feel dirty.
Used and abused.
I need a shower, I need to scrub every inch of my body. I don’t want any remnants of him left on me. Not one morsel.
Bastard.
“Emma…” I hear as I pass. “Shit, Em, are you okay?” I glance over my shoulder as I continue moving. Grayson’s standing by the opened door of his car, that’s parked by the curb.
I don’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I speed up.
A chink in the sidewalk catches the toe of my boot, sending me stumbling forward. My arms flank out in front of me as I try to regain my balance, but it’s no use, I’m too far gone and go down like a ton of bricks, hitting the ground with a loud thud.
My left wrist and knees take the brunt of the impact. A small whimper falls from my lips as pain radiates up my arm, my skin burning from where it scrapes along the coarse concrete.
Grayson’s crouching beside me in an instant. “Jesus Christ, Em, are you okay?”
“No, no, I’m not,” I say, bowing my head.
The tears return with a vengeance, but this time they’re mixed with humiliation. His soothing voice and the tender way his hand rubs over my back only spur me on further. Suddenly, racking sobs consume me.
“Fucking hell.” Grayson stands, scooping me into his arms. I bury my face in his chest, letting it all out. I know I’m going to regret this later, but I’m so distraught, I can’t control it. “It’s okay… I’ve got you,” he says as he starts walking. “Let me take you inside and clean you up, you’re bleeding.”
“I want to go home.”
“Let me clean you up first, then I’ll take you home. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Grayson sits me on the edge of his breakfast bar after we enter his kitchen, then he passes me a few tissues to wipe my eyes. He darts around opening cupboards and drawers, grabbing what he needs to tend to my wounds. Coming back to stand in front of me, he hands me a glass of water before laying his supplies out on the countertop.
“Thank you.” I take a sip as he goes to work.
Picking up a warm damp cloth, he starts by wiping the blood from my knees. “I’m sorry if this hurts you,” he says while he pours some antiseptic onto a cotton ball. I hiss as he gently dabs it on both knees. “I’m sorry, Red.”
“It’s okay.”
I look up at him and give him a small smile. Grayson covers my scrapes with Band-Aids before moving to my hands.
“It’s just the left one,” I say and wince when I try to move it.
“Do you think we should get an x-ray?”
“No, I’m sure it’s just a sprain.”
“I’m going to contact the city tomorrow and complain about the lift on the path.”
“I should’ve been watching where I was going.”
“I’m sorry I distracted you,” he says. His eyes move up to mine. “What happened, Red? What did he do?”
He ripped my heart out and then stomped on it.
I shrug. “He had sex with me and then told me to leave.”
Grayson’s jaw clenches. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Don’t,” I say, placing my hand on his arm. “It was my fault…” I sigh. “I should’ve known better.”
“Fuck that shit, Red. Jesus. I knew he’d fuck this up eve
ntually.”
“Can we just not talk about it?” I turn away from his penetrating glare.
“He likes you… no, he more than likes you. It’s just hard for him to admit it.”
“Yeah, right,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I thought he did, too, but I was a fool. He just wanted to fuck me. He got what he wanted, so I’m of no use to him now.”
“Emma… fuck. There’s so much about his past you don’t know. Trust me when I say this has nothing to do with you. He sabotages all the good in his life. He honestly thinks he’s not worthy.”
Grayson reaches for my hand and when he turns it’s over to inspect my palm, I hear him suck in a sharp breath the second his eyes land on my scar. “What the fuck, Emma?” The color drains from his skin as his gaze moves from my wrist to my face, then back to my wrist.
I snatch my hand away as shame rockets through me.
He grabs my right hand and flips it over. “Fuck,” he grates out when he sees the other scar.
“It was a long time ago.”
“Why? Why would you do this to yourself?” He lets me go, fisting his hair in his hands. “This all makes sense now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I gather he hasn’t told you anything about Anastasia?”
“No, why. Who is she?”
“His ex.”
“Oh…”
“It’s not what you think, Emma. Ask him… ask him about her.”
“I don’t care who she is, she can have him. I want nothing to do with him.”
When tears rise to my eyes Grayson pulls me into his arms. “Emma, she’s the reason he thinks he can’t have happiness. She’s the reason he told you to leave.”
His words confuse me. “Why? Does he want to get back with her?”
“No,” he scoffs. “She died. She died a long time ago. And since then, he’s never been the same.”
I gasp.
“How?”
“As I told you once before, it’s not my story to tell, but it’s why he’s pushing you away. Trust me on this.”
His words swim around in my mind, but at the end of the day, I don’t care what his story is. Ashton could’ve talked to me, but instead, he chose to throw me away like a piece of trash.
We remain silent as Grayson cleans the small graze on my palm before wrapping a bandage around my wrist. My attention remains transfixed on the ocean through the large glass windows.
“Emma, look at me.”
He searches my face when I turn my attention back to him. There’s concern swimming in his exquisite green eyes.
“Can you promise me something?”
“What?”
“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
“Like try to kill myself again?”
“Yes.”
“Huh. Over Ashton… that’s rich. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He’s not worth it.”
“I’m serious. This isn’t a joke.”
“Look, I was young when it happened. I was going through a lot at the time. I’m not that person anymore, and I know it’s not the answer. The truth is, even when I did this…” I say, holding out my wrists, “… I didn’t want to die. I just wanted them to stop. I was desperate… I was tired of hurting.”
Grayson exhales a long breath as he wraps me in his arms again, placing a soft kiss on top of my head.
“I left my purse at Ashton’s,” I say.
“I’ll go over there and get it for you before we leave.”
“Thank you… for everything.”
His kindness has given me a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, not all men are evil bastards.
“I’m here if you ever need anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
Dipping his head, his eyes lock with mine. “I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
Carla hit the jackpot with this one.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ASHTON
I take a seat on the edge of the mattress. My chest aches. Leaning across the bed, I scoop up the pillow that Emma laid her head on last night, bringing it to my nose. I clench my eyes shut. It smells like vanilla. Like her. I inhale sharply, trying to drown in her scent, holding on to the last piece of her that I have left.
How am I going to go on without her?
I never expected to fall so hard. I wasn’t even looking for anyone, but there she was.
So damn sweet.
And everything I didn’t know I needed.
I never stood a fucking chance.
But, the reality is, I’m not the man for her. I could never give her what she needs. Financially, yes, the world would be her oyster, but emotionally, it’s not possible. She needs someone who’ll worship the ground she walks on and love her with everything they have. I’m simply not capable of that.
Not anymore.
Emma needed to know that I’m not in this for the long haul. I don’t have time for some unrealistic notions of love. And as hard as it was to let her go, it would’ve been almost impossible to do if I let this play out any longer.
She makes me reckless.
She makes me forget my rules.
They’re my lifeline.
I’ve broken five of the six without a bat of an eyelid.
Four times I came inside her last night. Four.
Thankfully, my fifth rule—Always wrap it—held strong.
My shoulders slump as I release a long breath.
The truth is she makes me happy, happier than I think I’ve ever been, so saying goodbye was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I did it for her.
I wish things could be different.
But, I’m willing to sacrifice it all.
That’s what you do when you care about someone, you give up your happiness for them.
I bury my face in my hands. The loss I’m feeling is almost unbearable. Seeing the devastation on her face as I walked away will haunt me for the rest of my life. Hearing her cries as she scurried around my room collecting her things almost broke me.
I hear the front door slam downstairs, and my heart starts to race. Is she back?
“Barclay,” Grayson screams. “Get your fucking ass down here. Now.”
Here we go.
When I don’t answer or make an effort to move, I hear his loud footsteps stomp up the stairs. A few minutes later, my bedroom door flies open. It hits the adjoining wall with such force, it makes me flinch.
“What the fuck did you do?”
I cast my eyes downward.
He knows.
“Go away,” I grumble.
“Really? That’s all you have to say. You know what, I’m fucking done with you. For six years, I’ve stood by and watched my best friend… my fucking brother… slowly self-destruct. Do you know what that feels like? To see a person who means the world to you, someone who was once so full of life, die a little more inside each day. It fucking kills me. Then, out of nowhere, a woman comes along… an angel, your fucking savior. Someone who, without even trying, managed to breathe life back into you. Are you listening to me? She brought you back to life, goddammit. And what did you do? You threw her away like she meant nothing. Fuck!” He starts pacing back and forth. “How could you not want her?”
“I want her… I want her so fucking much,” I admit. “But I can’t do to her what I did to Anastasia. I couldn’t stand it.”
“It’s a bit late for that. You broke her.” He clutches his head in his hands. “I held her while she cried her fucking eyes out. I could seriously kick your ass right now. Are you listening to yourself? I don’t care what fucked-up notions you’ve got going on in your head, you deserve happiness, too. When are you going to let the past go? You couldn’t control what happened. I don’t care what you say or what you think, you’re not to blame for Anastasia’s death. That’s all on her, man. She was fucking crazy.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. She may have been crazy, but I still let her down when she needed me most.
“Wh
at the fuck are you afraid of, Ashton? Can’t you see it? She’s not her… Emma’s not fucking her.”
“I know.”
“I think you’re scared if you let her in, she’s going to get so deep under your skin you’ll never want her to leave, and that terrifies you.”
“She’s already there.” I raise my head, making eye contact with him. “I’m in love with her.”
Grayson throws his hands in the air. “Well, fucking fix this. If you don’t, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”
If only it were that simple.
I watch him from across the room. His nostrils flare as his chest rises and falls heavily with rage. I’ve never seen him this angry before.
“So, you’re just going to sit there and say nothing? Do nothing?”
“There’s nothing I can say or do that will fix this. I’m doing this for her. I couldn’t live with myself if I destroyed her, too.”
“You didn’t fucking destroy Anastasia,” he screams. “She did it to her-fucking-self. She wasn’t right in the head.” He stands there waiting for my reply, but I’ve got nothing more to say. “You know what, fuck you. Where’s Emma’s bag?” Grayson starts looking around my room.
I kicked her out without her purse? I’m fucking scum.
I was so lost in my own head, I even forget her car was still at the park.
“It’s probably in my car.”
Grayson says nothing, doesn’t even look at me as he storms from my room. I fall back onto my mattress, feeling even worse than I did a few moments ago.
Fuck my life with a cactus.
Pulling up to the curb, I sit and observe Chance as he kicks the soccer ball around with his son. I get a pang in my heart as I watch them. All of the what-ifs go through my mind. This could’ve been me.
Exhaling a long breath, I exit the car. He’s my last hope, my only remaining connection to Emma.
It’s been two excruciating weeks since I’ve seen her.
Smelled her.
Touched her.
Loved her.
“Barclay,” Chance says when he spots me walking up the driveway.
“Bateman.”
He scoops up the ball before walking to me. “What’s up?” he asks, extending his closed hand to me. I fist pump it.
