40. Ashlie
CHAPTER FORTY
ASHLIE
T revor carries me inside the hotel on his back. As soon as he steps from the elevator, I groan into his shoulder. Shit . I’d hoped to sleep on all of this and get some clarity tomorrow, but Hunter’s sitting on the wall by my door. Trevor gingerly places me on the emerald-green carpet and helps me hobble the rest of the way.
“Night, Trev,” I say, giving a side hug.
He wraps his arms around me in one last warm, friendly embrace. “Let me know how it goes,” he whispers in my ear, squeezing my shoulder before letting go. I lean against the doorframe for support. “Night, man.” He nods at Hunter, who pushes himself off the ground to stand.
Once Trevor is gone, Hunter’s words rush out as if they’re fighting each other. “I want to call off the bet.” He takes a deep breath and shoves his hands in his pockets. If it weren’t for the night we’ve had, the pleading look in his eyes would shatter my resolve. But I’m exhausted. I’m not ready for this .
Rubbing my forehead, I try to ease the sudden pounding. My chest tightens like a boa constrictor strangling its meal, my breaths turning shallow the longer I look at him. Please, not tonight . Call it avoidance or whatever, but I really need to sleep on this. “Can we do this tomorrow?”
“Naw, it needs to be tonight.”
Frustration hisses between my teeth, my words sounding more intense than I intend. “Why, Hunt? I’m tired and confu?—”
“We’re doing this! Right now!”
My face heats when he cuts me off. The sea of anxiety I’ve been treading all night is quickly replaced with a vat of indignation. Why he thinks forcing a heart-to-heart will work is beyond me. Folding my arms tightly against my chest, I lean on the door for balance. “ Oh , so talking it out is only allowed on your terms, huh? Where was this energy when you were pissed off all morning?”
Hands balling into fists in his pockets, he sets his jaw and meets my glare. For several seconds, the silence bounces off the walls. The tension twists to an undeniable strain, neither of us willing to let go.
Then a flash of vulnerability softens his face, leaving just as quickly with a shake of his head. “I wasn’t pissed.”
“You can’t admit it, can you?” I taunt. My fatigue gives way to low-hanging pettiness. Consequences be damned, I let it lead. “You’re so guarded with your emotions that you can’t even?—”
“Hell yeah, I’m mad!” He scrubs his face with his hands before looking back at me. “I’ve had to watch you with him all weekend, Ashlie! Had to push away my own feelings because that’s the way you wanted it.”
“ You’re the one who told me to keep seeing him, Hunter!”
“Naw, don’t put that on me. I told you to do what makes you happy. You chose to keep seeing him.”
“Yeah, well, he’s not?—”
“Were you ever going to tell me about the wedding?” Heat radiates as he steps toward me. “Or just make me watch you hang all over him again?”
“Trevor and I?—”
“Do you want to be with me?”
“FUCK! Stop talking over me!” I throw my hands in the air, but quickly grab the doorframe when I start to wobble. Hunter reaches out to help, and I stop him with a scowl. His nostrils flare as he watches me, fingers twitching like they’re aching to touch me. I know I’m deflecting and should make it clear that it’s over with Trevor, but now I don’t want him to have the satisfaction. He’s coming at me like we’re in a boxing ring, where my only means of fighting back is to bob, weave, and avoid. Expecting his next words to match my intensity, I purse my lips, ready for everything to ignite.
But it fizzles when he cocks his head instead, eyes flicking around my face. The air seeps from my lungs when his pinched expression eases into realization. That undeniable intensity is back in his stare. Love . My eyes dart away, but it doesn’t help; he’s still reading me like a goddamn book.
“…You didn’t answer the question.”
You already have someone who knows you .
Willa’s words assault my mind, and I don’t even attempt to respond to Hunter. What could I say? I’m not fooling anyone at this point—not even myself. But admitting I want to be with him twists me up inside, threatens to blow open the hatch and release the shadows I’m clinging to. I bite my lip as my mind races to find a way to reverse all of this. Uncross the line I begged to erase in Fort Bender. Pretend I don’t know how it feels to be his. I want him safely back in the friendship box, but his eyebrow arches like he expects me to lie, and I realize it’s too late. We couldn’t go back if we tried. Not in a million years. You’ve already ruined it .
His humorless snort pulls me from my spiral, and I brace myself for whatever comes next. “I might not be the best at communicating my feelings, but at least I’m not lying to myself about what I want.”
Don’t fucking cry . I swallow the thick coil of emotion, but my voice shakes anyway. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m right fucking here, Ashlie!” Gruff frustration rattles in his throat, and all I can do is stand here and take it. “You’d rather dive heart first into these shallow relationships when, deep down, you know they’ll never give the depth you need. Meanwhile, I’ve been here for months, giving you everything you say you want—everything I have—and you’re pretending not to see it. Choosing not to. I’m fighting for what we could be, Ash. Everyone else sees it; why can’t you?”
You’re a disappointment .
There it is. The reason I’m so afraid this won’t work. Those nagging insecurities spring to my head so loudly, I wince. Hunter’s changed for the better, changed for me, and I’m still the anxiety-ridden mess who can’t face her silly little fears. You don’t deserve him . He’s done so much for you, and you ignored it all . Selfish . I shift uncomfortably as the thought grows to a roar, and when I look in his eyes, my defensive response dies in my throat.
He takes a deep breath, eyebrows drooping with a pleading agony. “I know you’re still in your head about my motives after our fight, and I get it. You’re used to striking out with guys and jumping to conclusions so no one can control you, like Bryan. But I don’t want to break you like he did, Ash. I want to be the one you run to when everything feels broken. I’m not him. Hell, I’m not even the old me anymore.” He hasn’t been for a while .
“…But I’m still the old me.” My voice shakes as I blink away tears. Selfish .
“I didn’t… That’s not what I’m saying…”
Look at what you’re doing to him .
The way he’s staring at me, like he’s both fed up and can’t get enough, threatens to smother the confusing inferno burning me up inside. But I’m drenched with worry that I’ve fucked everything up beyond repair, consumed by doubts having nothing to do with him. All I’m left with is a fear so raw, it feels like a second skin. Everything is your fault .
“Hunt…” I puff out a shaky breath, teetering as I try to balance on my good ankle. Air whizzes from my lips in short spurts, the edges of my vision blurring. “I don’t want—” My breath catches, and I shake my head, searching for the words I’ve never been able to admit out loud. “I can’t ?—”
“You can .” The conviction in his voice briefly cuts through my panic, curling around my heart as if he understands what I’m battling inside.
But how can he ? I don’t even understand it myself .
Taking a tentative step, he reaches for me, and I know he’s about to do the one thing we can’t take back. Use the words that change everything . “You’re smart?—”
Don’t say it ...
“—and strong. Resilient.”
Please no ...
“I know you, Ashlie. Like the back of my fucking hand.” He takes another step, and I have to tilt my head back to see him. “I know you, and I lov??—”
“Please, don’t!” The strangled cry rips from my throat, my chest heaving breathlessly. “Don’t say it…”
Dropping his head in his hands, Hunter lets out a groan that reverberates through me. I feel every bit of it clawing at my chest, begging me to put him out of his misery. With a shoulder-raising breath, his arms fall to his sides in a surrendering pose. The wounded look in his eyes pins me in place. “Why. Fucking. Not?” He punctuates each word with a brusque staccato, his stare unwavering.
“Because I’ll ruin it!” My heart plummets as I realize I have no more excuses left. Nothing but the truth. I’m always the common denominator. It’s me . I close my eyes briefly to expel the thought, but it echoes.
“Wha—Ash…”
“I will.” Nodding quickly, I blink away the spill of tears. “I always do…” The doubts I’ve pushed away for a lifetime come rushing to the surface, crashing together until they shout at me , you’ll never be enough . “I don’t think I’m ready.” It comes out as a whisper but is somehow just as loud as the yelling from before.
He places a hand on my waist as the other tucks a curl behind my ear. I groan at the tweak in my ankle when he pulls me against him and brace my arms against his chest. It would be the easiest thing to say yes to him right now. Jump in recklessly like I always do. My head is filled with a raging river of confliction, the battle between the easy choice and the right one volleying in my mind. But those cool green irises convey so much amid the silence. Warmth. Support. Love . It’s like gravity itself is pulling me into his orbit until we’re only a whisper away. With one glance that threatens to shoot me into oblivion, he crushes his mouth to mine. Heated desperation simmers from him, igniting at our tangled lips until I’m clutching his shirt in my fists.
His kiss has always hushed all the noise inside of me, and without a second thought, I kiss him back. The slow stroke of his tongue lulls me into a trance, claiming, declaring, pleading . As his thumb comes to rest on my cheek, I desperately want to hold on to this feeling with him. This place where doubts and fear disappear, and we’re floating together against space and time. It means the world. Another sweet peck on my lips, and he rests his forehead against mine. “You hold all the cards here, Ashlie. You always have. What do you need to feel ready?”
When I open my mouth to speak, one last thought scourges my mind. He deserves more . And that’s the clincher. Failing the one person who’s always been on my side is too much to bear. Doing what I’ve always done, being the way I’ve always been—it will only end in devastation. I can’t do it anymore. Not to him. That morsel of resolve nestles in my head until it’s the only thing that makes sense. My heart races as my trembling fingers slide his hand from my cheek. “I need some space.”
“ Fuck ,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, flinching as if my words slapped him across the face.
“Hey…” I secure his head in my hands and guide it back to mine. “Look at me, Hunter.” Despite the tear trailing down my cheek, I give him a small smile, hoping it will ease the confusion in his eyes. “This isn’t about you. It’s me.”
“Ash…”
“Just…let me get this out. Please?”
His eyebrows cinch, but he nods and waits.
I flick the newest tear and take a deep breath. “I’m a floundering disaster, Hunt?—”
“You’re not…” He shakes his head emphatically.
“I am . Look at us right now. We’ve been yelling in a hotel hallway because picking fights with you is easier than dealing with myself.” Swiping my face, I straighten my shoulders with the confidence I don’t feel. “None of this is fair to you. Dragging you into my mess when you’ve worked so hard to change yours—it’s not the right way to start a relationship together. I need a little space to figure it all out without ”—I wave my hands around us—“all of this.”
He pulls away and drags a palm down his face. “So what? A couple of days to breathe?”
I bite my lip. “I’m asking for a month.”
“A month?” He scoffs. “That’s more than ‘a little fucking space,’ Ashlie!”
“We still had a month before the bet was over anyway.”
“Naw, fuck the stupid-ass bet.”
“You asked what I need, Hunt. Just…give me four weeks to sort some things out. To work on myself. We can reassess after the wedding…” My voice trails as I hesitate to deliver the option to walk away from all of this. But it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t. “…And if you don’t want to wait for me, if you want to move on, I… That’s okay too.”
He tips his head back and blows his frustration to the ceiling. Several emotions scroll across his face. “Those are my only choices? Space or move on?”
My heart thrums in my chest, and I bite my thumbnail, hoping he’ll give me this last request. Love might change things, but it can’t fix the way I feel inside. As selfish as this all feels right now, focusing on myself is long overdue.
The tension in his shoulders slackens as he lowers his head, and his arms hang limply at his sides. Enshrouded in a type of anguish that wrings the breath from my lungs, his eyes meet mine before dropping to the floor. “After the wedding?” he asks dejectedly. “No calls, no lunches—nothing for four weeks? That’s what you want?”
No . But I think it’s what I need . I ignore the wet streaks coursing down my face. “Four weeks.” My voice shakes as the reality of what this all means settles into my stomach like a lead weight. The torment etched on his face hurts more than I could have imagined. This break feels like the worst kind of failure, and I’m not even sure I can hold up my end of the bargain when the timer runs out.
Eyes trained on the floor, he nods slowly, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and shuffles a step back. He’s giving me exactly what I asked for, but my heart breaks anyway.