Written on My Heart

by Cole Gibsen

  “For a walk.” I don’t tell her where to or for how long. She’s too fucked up to notice.

  “Okay.” She grins and reaches for the joint the girl beside her holds out. Maybe by tomorrow she’ll forget she ever had a dog.

  When we get outside, Hank prances and spins around my legs. Apparently he’s just as happy to get the hell out of there as I am. I pause in the grass long enough for him to do his business before loading him in my car.

  He grins happily, his tail thumping against my seat.

  I sigh. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I’m afraid we’re not going anywhere exciting.” Hotels are expensive, and with no family other than my mom and stepdad in the area, it looks like we are destined for a night in the car, something I’m no stranger to. When I was first kicked out of my house, I learned pretty fast there are certain places you can sleep in your car without getting harassed by cops or anyone else.

  After a fifteen-minute trek down the interstate, I turn off onto a ramp for a rest stop. Having frequented many in the area, I know this particular one is the nicest, with the cleanest bathroom stalls, the most vending machines, and best-lit parking lot.

  I park at the end of the row and carefully drape T-shirts over the side windows, keeping them in place by rolling the window up on the fabric. Next, I unfold a sun visor across the windshield.

  Hank watches me, cocking his head in interest.

  “This isn’t my first rodeo,” I tell him. “I don’t like people watching me sleep—some of them are pretty sick fucks.” One of the first times I’d slept overnight at a rest stop I’d awoken to find a truck parked next to my car and a guy staring at me through the window, his hand clearly groping his own lap.

  A shudder of revulsion ripples through me and I hit the door lock. “Sorry there are no mints for the pillows,” I tell Hank. “This is the best I can do.”

  The puppy climbs across the center console and curls into my lap. I can’t help but smile as I stroke his soft fur. This is the first time I haven’t been alone while forced to sleep in my car. I have to admit, with Hank here, it’s not nearly as bad.

  I recline my seat and settle against the hard cushion as best I can. In fact, compared to the loud party going on at my apartment, the quiet comfort of my car is almost peaceful.

  Too bad it doesn’t last.

  The second my eyelids close, I find Lane waiting for me in the darkness behind them. Lane, whose eyes blaze with hunger and whose touch ignites fire beneath my skin. I can almost feel the ripple of his chest muscles under my fingers and smell the earthy spice of his cologne.

  “Bah!” I open my eyes as cold droplets of sweat prick along my skin.

  Hank yawns and gives me an annoyed look.

  “Sorry,” I mutter. But I’m even more sorry I let Lane get to me. Emily warned me to stay away from her brother, and Lane himself told me he was involved with someone. My only excuse is I’d been vulnerable. After spilling the soda, I could feel my stepdad’s angry presence in the tattoo studio, feel the fury radiating off of him like a thousand pin pricks digging into my skin. But the second Lane put his arms around me, my stepdad was gone. For the first time in my life, I felt safe.

  And then I felt other things…lots of other things. But who could blame me for losing myself in the moment and in Lane’s arms?

  I scratch my fingers along my skull as if I can pluck the memories out and fling them from my head. God, I’m such an idiot. Lane is probably laughing his ass off at me right now—the stupid girl he thought he could play.

  “Stupid! So stupid!” I slam my hand against the steering wheel.

  Startled, Hank jumps up and licks my nose.

  I blink at him, surprised, before I bust out in a laugh. “You’re absolutely right, Hank.” I scratch behind his floppy ears until he settles back onto my lap. “From now on, I’ll be saving my kisses for puppies, not dogs.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ashlyn

  The sunbeams filtering through the T-shirt covered window warm my skin and pull me into consciousness. My back aches, and I bring my hand to my neck to massage the knot that’s formed. God, sleeping in a car sucks.

  The lump of fur on my lap stirs and lets out a whimper.

  “Right.” My voice is thick with sleep. I fumble my hand along the center console and grab my phone and the leash. After snapping the leash to Hank’s collar, I push the door open. Hank bounds outside while I stumble after. We walk to the grassy area designated for dogs. While Hank searches for the perfect spot, I glance at my phone to discover I have a text message. With my phone on vibrate, I guess I slept through the buzz.

  At first a flicker of excitement jolts through me when I think the sender might be Lane, before I realize A, he doesn’t know my number, and B, he’s already involved with someone. Ashlyn, you idiot!

  I read the name of the sender. The single word sends anxiety plummeting into my stomach.

  Chris.

  We dated on and off throughout my senior year of high school, and even rented an apartment together for three months after graduation, before I got tired of trying to force myself into the mold Chris set out for me. His subtle suggestions for how I should live my life became more and more persistent until I figured out it wasn’t me he loved, but some ideal he thought he could shape me into. Turns out I wasn’t clay. The more he sculpted, the more I broke.

  I thought we were done. While I know I should leave well enough alone, my curiosity about what he could want with me now is overwhelming, so I click on the message.

  Hey Ash, I was cleaning out my closet when I found some clothes of yours I thought you might want back. I won’t make you come here. How about we meet for lunch? Panera at noon? My treat. No strings attached.

  I chew on my lip and reread the text several times. I moved out of his apartment in such a hurry I left behind my favorite green sweater. I really would love to get it back—but not at the expense of having to put up with any of Chris’s bullshit. Still, he did say no strings attached. And can I really turn down a free lunch?

  My stomach twists painfully at the thought; it’s been nearly twenty-four hours since I last ate anything. Really, the second he mentioned food, he had me. “And you’ll go with me, right?” I ask Hank. “Chris wouldn’t dare mess with me while I have such a vicious guard beast, would he?”

  As if in response, Hank flops over and rolls his back along the grass.

  Yeah. Chris is sure to be intimidated by that.

  Chris is already sitting on the restaurant patio when I show up. Two plates of sandwiches and chips sit on the table. Despite being starving, a flicker of annoyance twinges through me. I always hated how he ordered food for me without asking—looks like some things never change.

  He smiles and stands when he sees me. His blond hair is gelled perfectly in place and the creases ironed into his shirt are so sharp they look like they could cut bread. Nothing new there—Chris always did like everything just so. But I can tell by the way his smile withers when he spots the leash in my hand and the puppy trailing behind me, our meeting isn’t going according to his plan—and he always has a plan.

  “You have a dog now?”

  “Yes.” I slip the loop of Hank’s leash under the chair leg before I sit down.

  “I hate dogs,” Chris says, his eyes accusing. “You know that.”

  Actually I didn’t. Happy coincidence. I pick a piece of turkey from the sandwich and give it to Hank, who happily gobbles it up.

  Chris groans. “Don’t do that. You shouldn’t feed it table scraps. You’re going to make it a beggar.”

  Wow. I’ve only been with him for thirty seconds and he’s already telling me what to do. That has to be a new record. I pull another piece of turkey from the sandwich and feed it to Hank.

  Chris scowls. “You always do that, Ash. You always ignore me when I’m just trying to help.”

  I take a big bite of the sandwich—the entire reason I agreed to this meeting. It’s been months since I’ve eaten in
an actual restaurant. The flavors of the lettuce, tomato, and turkey should be exploding on my tongue, but with Chris sitting so close, the food tastes like dirt. “I don’t need your help,” I say between mouthfuls.

  Chris leans back in the chair and folds his arms across his chest. “First of all, you shouldn’t talk with your mouth full.”

  I roll my eyes and take another bite.

  “Second,” he continues, “I know that’s not true because your mom called me. She says you won’t return her calls—she’s worried about you.”

  The bite of turkey sinks into my stomach like a stone and I set the sandwich down. “What?” I never imagined my mother would call my ex-boyfriend to check up on me. Then again, because I haven’t spoken to her since my stepdad threw me out, she probably didn’t know Chris was my ex.

  He leans across the table. “Where are you living, Ash?”

  I jerk back. “That’s none of your business.”

  “It is my business. Just because we broke up doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you. I miss you, Ash. I know we got off to a rocky start, that I was too hard on you, and I’m here to tell you I’m sorry.” He reaches for my hands, which I quickly recoil into my lap. “I’ll change, I’ll do whatever you need me to do so you’ll move back in. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

  His words wrap around my ribs and pull tight, suffocating me. I’ve heard enough promises in my life to know putting faith in them is like walking a tightrope made of licorice. Sure they’re sweet, but they never hold weight.

  “It won’t be easy,” Chris admits, “but I know we can work this out. Relationships are about give and take, so of course you’d have to give a little, too. This dog, for example.” He nods at Hank. “He’d have to go. But I’m willing to help find him a good home. My uncle lives on a farm, I’m sure he’d be willing to take him. Also, you’re not still serious about this writing thing, are you? You can still go back to college.”

  For a moment, the lure of Chris’s always clean and quiet apartment is enough to make me wonder if all the struggle I’ve put myself through in the attempt to live my own life is worth it. I slept in my car last night because it was a better option than my current apartment. I’m a long way from having the money I need to live on my own, and I haven’t written a word of poetry in weeks. What the hell am I fighting for?

  Hank whines, pulling me from my thoughts. My gaze travels to the leash looped beneath my chair leg, and I realize this is why I’m fighting. No Hank. No writing. Go to college. Even though I know Chris would never hurt me physically, the leash I would wear under his roof would only be a prettier version of the one I wore under my stepdad’s.

  And I’ll sleep in a million truck stops before I let someone tie me up and try to control me ever again.

  “Chris.” I lean forward.

  “Yeah?” He grins, that cocky grin, as if he can already see my bags packed.

  “I just really want my green sweater back.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lane

  Harper scans through my truck’s radio stations and settles on some sappy ballad sung by a boy band. I press my lips into a thin line and grip the steering wheel to keep from turning the music off. I’m hardly in the mood to listen to a bunch of fourteen-year-olds sing about everlasting love.

  Harper sits next to me smiling and singing along with the words—something about a Friday night party and Girl, you’re so beautiful. If only things were so simple. My mind pulls up the memory of Ash on my lap, her hands roaming my body, and I cringe inwardly. I still don’t know how I could have been so stupid, could have let my hormones overpower me, and for what? A fuck?

  It isn’t like I have any real feelings for Ash—I barely know the girl. From what I do know she’s impulsive, damaged, and very obviously running from something or someone—not exactly the pillar of stability I’d want around my kid. At the same time, there’s no denying Ash is a few other things—smart, beautiful, and if she’d gain a bit of weight she might be one of the sexiest women I’ve ever met.

  “I’m hungry,” Harper announces.

  “Okay.” I drum my thumbs along the steering wheel, hoping the flush of my skin and rapid beat of my heart won’t give away my thoughts. Relax, Lane, she’s ten for Christ’s sake! I exhale slowly. “What do you feel like?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Maybe a hamburger or— Ooh!” She points at the window. “What about Panera?”

  “Panera it is.” I hit the blinker. “It’s a nice day. Maybe we can sit outside.”

  “Yeah.” Harper grins. “And look! Someone has a puppy. Isn’t he cute, Dad? Why can’t we have a puppy?”

  I follow the line of her finger and spot a little fawn pit bull puppy curled beneath a girl’s chair. I like dogs, but I barely have enough time to devote to Harper. “I don’t know. A puppy is a lot of work.” I park the truck and pull the key out of the ignition.

  “I’ll take care of the puppy myself. You wouldn’t have to do a thing!”

  I sigh. “Puppy’s need a lot of attention. You’re so busy, Harper, with gymnastics and piano—”

  “When you love someone, you make the time,” she answers. “Like you do with me.”

  I grab my wallet from the cup holder and look at her—really look at her. She’s got her mother’s pointed nose, but I’ll be damned if the rest of her isn’t all me.

  Harper turns to the window. “When we do get a puppy, I want one just like that.”

  I follow her gaze, only it’s not the dog my eyes land on, but the girl sitting in the chair—the girl clearly having lunch with another guy.

  Ash.

  Fuck. A surge of jealousy that I don’t understand burns through me like acid. After all, what do I have to be jealous over? It’s not like she’s my girl or anything. All we did was fool around—something we both realized was a huge mistake. So why the fuck should I care that she’s sitting across from some blond, white-collared douche?

  Except I do. I feel it in the way every muscle in my body tightens, like I’m on the verge of ripping through my skin. And that only pisses me off more. I never asked for this. I’ve got too much shit going on in my life to waste time on feelings—especially worthless emotions like lust and jealousy.

  It doesn’t help Ash is pushed back against her chair, her posture rigid. Everything about her body language screams she doesn’t want to be there. So why is she? Does she need help? Can I really walk away if she does? I sweep a hand through my hair. “Harper, honey, there’s been a change of plans.”

  “What?”

  “We can’t eat here.”

  Her face crumples in disappointment. “Why not?”

  I reach for the door handle. “I’ll explain it to you when you’re older. In the meantime, I need you to promise me you’ll sit in the car and under no circumstances get out. Do you understand?”

  She frowns. “Why are you acting so weird?”

  “Thank your grandpa,” I grumble too low for her to hear. I slide my phone out of my pocket and hand it to her. Most of the apps on there are hers, anyway. “Keep yourself occupied and I’ll be back in a minute. If you stay in here like I asked, I’ll take you to that cupcake shop you like.”

  Her eyes widen. “For real? Promise?”

  “Promise. I’ll be right back.”

  I get out of the truck and lock the door behind me. Harper’s already got my phone in her hands, playing some game. I turn in Ash’s direction and breathe deep, trying to loosen some of the tension pulling across my chest. I’m halfway across the parking lot when my steps falter—I didn’t exactly think this through. What the hell am I supposed to say that’s not going to make me look like a gigantic stalker?

  Before I can come up with a good answer, her eyes meet mine.

  “Lane?”

  Fuck. Trying to play it cool, I nod as I stride over to her table. “Hey.”

  The guy sitting across from her narrows his eyes and gives me the once over. He leans forward, flexing the tend
ons along his jaw, and everything about him screams Mine! As if I care about some douchey frat boy’s display of dominance.

  Ignoring him, I crouch beside Ash’s chair and scratch the puppy’s head. “Who’s this?” The puppy licks my hand, his tail thumping happily against the sidewalk.

  “He’s yours,” the guy answers. “Our apartment doesn’t allow dogs.”

  “No, he’s not.” Ashlyn scoops the puppy into her arms and cradles him against her chest. “He’s my puppy and his name is Hank. Your apartment doesn’t allow puppies, Chris, but I don’t live with you, remember?”

  Chris? The prick whose name she tattooed on her arm? If so, what’s she doing having lunch with him? I fold my arms across my chest and slowly stand. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “No,” Ash answers the same time Chris says, “Yes.”

  He swivels toward her. “Ashlyn, I thought we were discussing our future.”

  “Chris, there’s no our anything, anymore.”

  He sinks lower in his chair and glares at me.

  I smirk. Definitely no love lost here.

  Ash sighs and presses two fingers against her temples. My hands curl into fists. I don’t like this dude and it’s obvious Ash doesn’t either. The fact he’s stressing her out makes me want to pound his face a little. “I’m sorry, Lane, what are you doing here?”

  “Uh—” I wasn’t expecting the question and I rack my brain for an answer. But the truth is, I don’t quite know the answer myself. For ten years I’ve focused on building my business and taking care of my family. I’ve built a nice life for myself and Harper, so what is it about Ash that makes me so reckless? I did my good deed and made sure she was okay. Now that I know she is, if I know what is good for me—what is good for Harper—I’ll leave well enough alone.

  So how do I end it? I’ve never been the type of guy to screw around with a girl and blow her off after. Ash came to me for a tattoo, and I owe it to her to finish what I started. When it’s done, I can forget all about her.

  “I was out running some errands,” I say. “When I saw you I remembered we never finished your shading.”