by Harlow Cole
“Down an unknown road
to embrace my fate.
Though that road may wander,
it will lead me to you.”
—“Go the Distance”
Hercules
31
Butterfly
Ashley
I spent a week thinking about the things my father had said. I stood in the background, watching as everyone else started picking up with life.
My father taped my mother’s Master Plan drawing to the refrigerator. He and Brayden began interviewing architects. My brother went, all on his own, to let Joey cut his hair. Evan and his buddies helped hang posters around town, advertising the reinstituted Labor Day bash.
Brayden kept showing up at the dinner table, usually still hot and sweaty from pulling two-a-days and helping Nathan with some harebrained scheme to retrain the JV baseball team at the high school.
I avoided being alone with him, but I could always feel his eyes on my skin. I wasn’t ready to talk. I needed to figure myself out before I could focus on him.
Or us.
Everyone around me suddenly had a purpose. A place to be. I tried my normal pattern. Like a robot, I sat behind the desk in the marina office and schlepped drinks at Foxy’s. But none of it felt the same. Wearing my former life gave me vertigo. Just as my father had described, I ended each day wearier than the last.
When Joey scored concert tickets on Friday night, I gladly offered to take her shift. But Preston and his buddies ruined any chance of the quiet night I’d hoped for. They showed up at four o’clock, already rotting from hard day-drinking. Bad went to worse an hour later when Brayden and Matt came in, ready to plow their faces into burgers. Quietly dodging both their tables turned me into a human pinball.
I was in the back hallway, reaching down on a cart for a pallet of clean glasses, when a warm hand splayed against the back of my thigh, just under the hem of my skirt.
“You shouldn’t have this on at work. It’s too damn short.”
As I straightened, his chest pressed in against my back, hiding his hand as it slid farther up to squeeze my ass.
“Leaves nothing to all these bastards’ imaginations.” His breath fanned against my ear. “Mine’s already picturing it up around your waist.” His fingers slid beneath the thin strap, popping the elastic lace of my thong against my skin. “Fuck, baby girl, I’m trying to be patient. But how long’s it gonna be this time? How long are we gonna go on pretending like we can keep our hands to ourselves?”
I turned slightly, looking down at his chest in my peripheral. “I’m working,” I said haughtily as I kept steady concentration on not pushing back against him. I didn’t want to give him what he desired most. I still wanted to exact some form of punishment.
“So am I. Working on getting you out of this skirt and back underneath me.”
“Brayden.”
His hand slid ever so slowly down the crack of my ass before withdrawing. His other hand threaded up into my hair. I waited for the kiss I knew was coming.
“I want to see you. Alone.” His lips hovered inches from mine.
“Why? So, you can manhandle me and try to get your way?”
“So, I can fuck some sense into you. And see how pretty this skirt looks lying at your feet,” he said, his lips pressing onto mine.
I tried to maintain my composure, to not topple headfirst into his weird gravitational pull. But his tongue traced my lips back and forth, soft and sweet, until I had no choice but to cave. My fingertips dug into his biceps as I stood on my tiptoes for better reach.
He groaned. “Please, Ash. You and I both know you wore this thong tonight for a reason.”
“Preston’s out there. How do you know I didn’t wear it for him?”
He pulled back, looking down at me with bright eyes. As he started to completely pull away, I grabbed his hand. He glanced at my fingers and smiled teasingly.
“What are you doing?” I asked, alarmed.
He backed up two steps, still grinning at me. “Just gonna run and commit a quick homicide. I’ll be right back.”
“Brayden.”
He reached out and gripped my waist between his hands, pulling me back against him. “I was kidding.”
“So was I.” I cocked my head to the side and added cheekily, “I wore it ’cause I was running low on laundry.”
His expression sobered as his thumb traced my bottom lip. “We have to talk, Soot. You can’t hide from me forever.”
“I know,” I replied softly. “I’m just not ready yet.”
He gave me a brief, hard kiss and a short nod. “You know where to find me.”
He licked his bottom lip before he turned and walked away, forcing me to watch his tight jeans and strong shoulders move back out into the bar.
It took me an hour to compose myself. A damp thong chafed in unfortunate places. I could feel his eyes all over me, fucking me senseless from thirty feet away. When I took them a second round, his eyes swept over me, settling on my lips with a gaze so sultry, Matt had to cough uncomfortably into his fist.
As I turned to walk away, I heard Matt murmur, “Dude. Is there a pay-per-view fee included with this meal? Or is soft porn on the menu?”
I was ringing up another order, at the register next to the bar, when someone grabbed me from behind. Surprised Brayden would make another public display, I turned on him with wide eyes and a smacking hand.
I immediately stepped back in surprise. “Preston.”
I pushed him until he staggered back some more. Unfortunately, not far enough to cover the stale stench of man sweat and beer.
“Are you trying to lose a hand?” I asked harshly.
“Come on, sweetheart. No hard feelings here. You are looking way too hot tonight, and I’ve gotta go back to school soon. What time do you get off work? Let’s go have some fun.”
I watched over Preston’s shoulder as Brayden got up from his table and threw down his napkin. From the set line of his jaw, homicide no longer looked like a joking matter.
Preston was too drunk to even notice his imminent demise.
I tossed my hair over my shoulder and pressed my hand against the Ivy League idiot’s chest, pretending to play with the buttons on his shirt. “You know, that would be great and all, but you’re just still such a mystery to me.”
“I am?” he said, drawing his neck back in surprise. He teetered a little from side to side.
“You are. I always thought that thing people said about men who had big hands was true, but you just seem to be an exception to the rule ’cause your dick is just way too small,” I said it with a sweet smile, in as loud a voice as possible.
An old guy seated in front of a tall schooner at the end of the bar choked on a mouthful of beer.
The guy’s friend slapped him on the back and called out, “Hey, buddy, catch a clue. She ain’t goin’ home with ya.”
A younger guy sitting two stools down joined in, hollering out, “I think they make a pill for that.”
“You’re such a bitch.” Preston’s words slurred as he scowled down at me.
I cocked my hip to the side and scratched my chin, feigning deep thought. “You’re right. But I’d rather be labeled a huge bitch than be known as a tiny prick.”
The two guys at the bar chuckled again.
Preston glared at them before he tucked tail and stumbled back to his friends seated out on the deck. He never saw Brayden standing in the background a few feet away.
I closed the distance between us. “I told you, I can take care of myself.”
He tweaked the tip of my nose. “I’m starting to see that now, baby girl.”
* * *
Brayden
When she slapped the napkin down on the table and said, “Last call, boys,” I almost didn’t look down. I figured the best view was walking away from me.
But then I noticed the black ink magnified under the bottom of my glass.
Our place in an hour.
Instinct fo
rced me to flip it over to the other side.
We’re gonna talk first.
I smirked at her from across the room and stuffed the note down into my front jeans pocket.
I knew we couldn’t climb out of this hole by fucking first and thinking later. I wanted this to be right. All of it. That meant, I had to come totally clean. No more lies.
Black or blue or white.
I got there early, so I could turn everything on and light the candles Jess had told me to buy. She’d helped me add all the girlie stuff. The white lace and fuzzy pillows were all her doing too.
Ashley hadn’t seen the place since all the work was completed. That played to my advantage now. I needed to talk. If this place left her a little bit breathless, I would have a fighting chance at getting her to actually listen.
Thirty minutes later, the door slid back.
“Weird,” she muttered. “It doesn’t creak anymore?” She pulled herself up the ladder and stopped at the top.
Her look of shock filled hopeful places inside me.
“Holy shit. What did you do?”
“You like it?”
She climbed the rest of the way up and turned a one-eighty. She looked like a princess inside one of those fussy snow globes.
I’d left the futon. I’d changed the mattress and bedding and added real tables beside it, but the base was still the original. All new electrical had allowed me to replace the sad, old Christmas lights with hundreds more; tiny little pinpoints were clustered in long strands draped from the ceiling. A canopy of gauzy mosquito netting hung below them, softening their glow. The candles were everywhere. In rustic lanterns and a little chandelier that hung near the window.
“This is insane. When did you do all this? It’s . . . magical.” She sat down beside me, looking up at the lights, awestruck. Her hand ran across the back of the futon’s whitewashed wood frame. “I’m glad you didn’t get rid of this.”
“This is where I first made love to you. You’d have to burn the place down with me in it to get this thing out of here.”
She smirked and shook her head. “My dad’s right. You really are nuts,” she muttered.
I took a deep breath and wiped my hand across the scruff on my jaw. “Well, since you’ve started with the topic of my sanity, there’s something I have to come clean about.”
Her brow raised.
“It’s the last thing. I promise.” My index finger drew an X across my heart.
Leaning forward, I pulled the folder from where I’d set it on the coffee table and placed it in her lap. Her fingertips traced over the outside edge, giving away her anxiety. Slowly, she pulled it open.
I’d put them in chronological order.
Not by date.
By stalker threshold.
She was in every single one. Helping Nathan down out of the truck. Sitting outside the café with her mother. Tying up a boat at the marina. Laughing with Joey, walking out of her shop.
All of those felt pretty benign.
She kept turning. Page after page, until she hit the first of the ones I had seared deeper in my skull.
Walking out of Foxy’s, smiling up at Tim Loeman. Holding hands with Preston, coming out of the movies. Kissing Preston in his car outside her house. The next one zoomed in on him unbuttoning her shirt.
She rested her hand on top of the photograph, covering the image of her skin with her own flesh and blood.
“I told you, I’d never stopped watching you, that I couldn’t believe you didn’t feel my eyes.” I blew out a breath. “This is what I meant.”
“How . . . ? When . . . ?”
“I hired someone. A private investigator.”
“You had me followed?” Her brow scrunched up. She still wouldn’t look at me. “For how long?”
I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, lacing my fingers behind my neck to ease the tension. “A few years,” I finally mumbled.
She paged through the remaining shots until she came to the end. She softly closed the folder and placed her hand back on top like a weight.
“Guess, now, you understand how much restraint I’ve been exercising by not rearranging that sunbird’s face.”
She tossed the file back onto the table. The corners of several photos slid out the top.
“You were never my plan B, Ash. Getting you back has always been my objective. From day one.” I sat back up, turning to look her in the eye again. I couldn’t read her expression. “Say something. What are you thinking?”
Her eyes searched my face. “I think you’re a fucking lunatic. A controlling fucking lunatic. You have been since . . . Lord, maybe since you used to yell at me for riding my bike with my shoelaces untied.”
As her words trailed off, her hand reached up to rest against my cheek. Her thumb scraped back and forth across my skin. Her words held bite, but her actions eased the ache in my chest.
I slid my hands around her waist. Her free hand gently framed my opposite cheek.
“So, I guess that makes you my lunatic.”
My mouth got ahead of my brain. My lips crushed down onto hers, celebrating my own relief.
I kissed her until we were both feeling edgy and breathless. I finally pulled back to rest my forehead against hers, the taste of her still wet on my lips. The back of my throat burned with the words I needed to finally say out loud.
“I’ve loved you my whole life. Since before I knew what I felt had a name.”
Her hands stroked my cheeks. “I know,” she whispered, smiling with double meaning as her mouth descended onto mine.
She took tiny, soft pecks at my lips before stopping to stare down at them. I pressed my hands overtop hers. Worry suddenly furrowed her brows. I wanted to lift my hands and wipe it away. To say all the worry lay behind us now. As long as we were together, everything from here on out would be all right.
“What is it?” I asked.
“We have more to talk about, Brayden. There are things I have to come clean about, too. I know my brother told you about the interview.” Her thumb rubbed across my mouth when her words drew forth a smile. “I’m going to New York.”
My smile grew wider.
“Alone.”
I blinked.
Once. Twice.
A third time for good fucking measure.
“What?” I finally asked, lips moving against her fingers.
“I’m taking the bus up next week. By myself. No fancy private jets. No drivers. No security detail.”
I nodded slowly, feeling the scrape of my Adam’s apple and the knot in my chest. This was some kind of test. One of those damn chick curveballs that hit you square in the nuts.
I had to tread carefully.
“At least stay at my place.”
She shook her head. “I’m gonna stay overnight with Cindi. She called last week. I finally picked up the phone. We talked for a long time about . . . everything. She offered to let me stay with her.”
I swallowed again. Her fingertips smoothed over my forehead, trying to wipe away the confusion and worry I wasn’t hiding very well.
“Brayden, after the accident, I lost more than just you. I lost me, too. I lost the chance to figure out who I am. I have to stand on my own two feet for a while. I have to do something for myself. Without you looking over my shoulder all the time.”
With a quirked brow, she glanced at the folder lying strewn across the table like a junkie’s dirty paraphernalia.
“I have to piece together who I am and what I want to do. I can’t do that if I go from being my family’s caregiver to a superstar’s girlfriend. I need to just be me for a little while. Figure out who the hell that is.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the bottomless fear that gutted my insides. It came hand in hand with guilt and shame and double-edged need—the same feeling I’d had the first time I woke up in rehab and reached for the nightstand drawer.
Watching over Ashley fixed me. Since I was a little kid, looking out for her had cent
ered me. It gave me a fucking reason to exist. Even after I’d left, I never stopped. There wasn’t a twelve-step program in the world that would break me of that habit or teach me to curb that need.
“You can’t ask me not to take care of you. I’ve been doing it since the day you tumbled into the library. I don’t know how to stop. I can’t.” That word. It ground out of my chest, the garbled speech of a drowning man.
“We don’t do can’t. Remember?”
“Where your safety and well-being are concerned . . . I can’t, Ashley. I won’t.”
“Brayden, I’m not asking you to step out of my life. I just need you to step back and give me room to explore. I need to stumble every now and then. I need to make my own mistakes and build my own dreams. That’s the only way I’ll ever feel like I’ve earned them. I have to do that alone. Without the help of your shoulders, or your money, or your last name.”
I pulled out of her embrace and stood, fighting back emotion I didn’t want to show. I turned my back to her, but I could still see her reflection in the window, walking toward me like an angel I didn’t want to let go.
Her arms tightly circled my waist. The side of her cheek pressed against my back.
“There’s so much I could do to help you. We can get you set up in that school. We can rent out my place and get something closer to the campus while we work on the townhouse . . .” My words trailed off as my voice warbled.
Her hands smoothed over my chest, rubbing straight into the familiar pain. “I sat here so many times and listened to a boy who didn’t want to ride his father’s coattails. Dallas, you have to understand where I’m coming from. You’re the shiny star with the big shadow now. I have to try this on my own.”
I turned in her arms, threading my hands into her hair. Tears burned behind my eyes. “Don’t send me away again.”
The words sounded tiny in my ears. Just like the voice inside all my nightmares as a kid. All the times I dreamt of calling them out to my faceless mother.
My chest tightened more.
“I won’t. I can’t. Not ever again,” she replied, her voice raspy with her own emotion.
