Chapter 10
ten
Ainsley
I can’t sleep.
I can’t stop thinking about the things he said about the girl I am.
He’s right. I never was a sit-back-and-wait girl. I was raised by a father who literally commanded a fleet and who demanded his kids be leaders.
I always tried to please the Admiral. I worked hard to get good grades and be the class president, editor of the school paper, and anything else. Accolades were what got my father’s notice. My mom could not have cared less. She stayed with my dad until he retired, and then she was done trying to be the trophy wife he kept on a shelf.
Still, I’ve always done what I can to make my parents proud.
Other than pop out a few grandchildren for my mom.
I get out of bed, grab my laptop, and head into the kitchen. On nights like these, the only thing that will settle my brain is to write.
In order for me to write, I must have sustenance.
Thankfully, on the way home from the dance competition, we stopped to grab some groceries.
I quietly open the cabinets, trying to see where he stuffed my chocolaty goodies. As I open the cabinet where I think it was, a bag of chips falls out. I freeze, looking around to see if that woke anyone. Not that it was super loud, but in the dead of the night, everything sounds ten times worse.
Nothing stirs, and I let out a sigh of relief and continue my quest for the contraband. I finally find it in the fourth one, and as I go to reach for it, the kitchen lights flick on.
I gasp, covering my mouth so I don’t scream.
“What are you doing?” Lachlan’s deep voice fills the silence.
“Trying to not have a heart attack.” My heart is thumping. Jesus, he scared the crap out of me.
“Why are you up?”
“I was getting a snack.”
“At three in the morning?” he asks with apparent frustration.
“I didn’t realize snacks were time specific.”
He walks closer. “They are when you’re being loud.”
I crinkle my nose. “I wasn’t being loud. I’m as quiet as a mouse.”
Maybe a larger mouse, but still I wasn’t banging things around.
“Your version of quiet and mine are clearly different.”
“Or maybe you sleep incredibly light,” I say, offering another option.
Lachlan sighs and walks into the kitchen, reaching for the cabinet right behind me. I try not to let my heart speed up just a little at his closeness, but I’ve learned I can’t ever get a grip around him.
His bare chest brushes against mine, and I wish I had a freaking sweater or jacket on so my nips wouldn’t be pointing straight. As soon as he leans back, I cross my arms over my chest to hide that little hint at what I’m feeling.
“Come on, let’s go out back so you don’t wake Rose while you eat,” he suggests.
I stay here, not sure I really want to go anywhere other than in my bed, where I can contemplate my life choices .
He stands there, lifting the bag of chips, and pushes something behind his back. “I have snacks.”
I purse my lips. “Do you have chocolate?”
Lachlan snickers. “Come and find out.”
He totally does, and if he doesn’t, I’ll find a way to punish him. I follow him out back, and he heads to the left, where there’s a large bed swing.
“Oh my God!” I say, moving quickly. “I love these!”
“So does Rose. It’s our favorite place to hang out.”
“For a good reason.”
He flips a switch for the two heaters above the bed area. “Climb up.”
I don’t argue. My apartment is modern and great, but it’s the uniqueness of my childhood home I miss. We didn’t have fancy appliances or new flooring, but we had old charm. The Admiral installed a porch swing, pool, and basketball hoop so Caspian and I had things to do at the house. We loved all of it, but what we really loved were the nooks in our home.
There was a little door under the stairs that my parents let me turn into a hideaway. I had pillows, a light, and books piled in the corner. It was tiny, but it was my safe space. For hours I’d hide under there, getting lost in a make-believe world where I could pretend to save the innocent people from darkness.
I long for that little nook most days.
Or the garden next door. The one I would go to when I wanted to feel the sun and see the boy on the other side of the fence.
“You look like you’re somewhere far away,” Lachlan says, drawing me from the memories of home.
I smile and shrug. “More like the past.”
“What about it?”
“I was thinking about how great this house is for Rose. How much, when we were kids, our homes were really special. I don’t remember much about moving around from base to base, but Caspian said the one before it was terrible. ”
“I hated moving. I loved my house next to yours,” he says, his voice wistful. “It was a home.”
“You moved more than we did.”
Caspian and Lachlan are four years older, so I got to enjoy the feeling of a home more than they did.
He lets out a long yawn. “Yeah, it was horrible.”
“I’m not complaining, I’m just saying that what you’re giving Rose is better than we had or ... different at least.”
“I’d agree with different. I want her to have roots. She’s not worried about her friends leaving after she gets close with them, or about her leaving. We didn’t get that.”
“No, we didn’t. I didn’t worry about us moving, but I remember when some of our friends moved.”
Lachlan nods. “It’s why that life was never for me. I went from being the kid leaving to always having people around me go. Military life is odd.”
The Admiral was already pretty set in Norfolk when I was a kid, and he could pick his duty stations much easier since he was the Admiral.
“It really is. Not something you can easily explain to people either.”
“Nope. I’m just glad that Dad bought the house next to you guys. Our lives changed for the better.”
I shift, tucking my legs under my butt. “Well, of course, you met me.”
He snorts. “Yes, that was really when my life took a nosedive.”
“You meant to say ‘high point.’”
“Did I?”
I nod. “Yup. Glad I could correct the error of your ways.”
“Yes, you’re a saint that way.”
“Glad you think so,” I say with a grin.
Lachlan laughs under his breath. “It was a high point.”
His confession stuns me. Lachlan has never been one to toss compliments out for no reason.
“So you’re saying I’m a delight?” I ask, knowing I’ll get a smart-ass comment back, because he’s Lachlan .
“You’re something.”
I smile and lean in, brushing my shoulder against him. “I knew it. I’m the sunshine of your life.”
“I’d say that title belongs to Rose.”
“Fine. I’ll accept losing it to her.”
“You never had it to begin with,” he says, nudging me.
I sit up, feeling rather affronted by that. “Then who did?”
“Caspian,” he says deadpan.
I laugh because, of all the things my brother is, the sunshine of someone’s life is definitely not it. He’s more like the dark cloud that keeps dumping buckets of rain on your head and keeps moving where you go to ensure you look dumb.
“I can’t wait to tell him you said that,” I joke.
“Do it and you’re dead.”
I raise my hands. “I’ll let you keep this secret.”
Lachlan places the tray of cookies in front of us, and we both grab one. It’s like being kids again, and I wish, so much, that I knew what to say. I want to tell him how much I’ve missed him. How I would go back in time and change everything if it meant I could have him and Rose back in my life.
Yet a part of me doesn’t think I would actually do that. To take it all back would change the trajectory of my life, and we wouldn’t be sitting here now.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, causing me to jump a little.
“Nothing. I was just ... drifting.”
He grabs another cookie. “So why couldn’t you sleep?”
That’s a loaded question. “Just a lot on my mind. I need to write, and I’ve been struggling with the right angle for the story.”
“Maybe you should write about something else then.”
I laugh once. “You’d like that.”
“I would.”
I shift to face him, crossing my legs in front of me. “Why?”
“Why what?”
I swear he does this just to piss me off. “Why would you rather I not write about this?”
Lachlan pops another cookie in his mouth, and once he’s done chewing, which takes for-freaking-ever, he sighs heavily. “Because I don’t want to think about the past anymore.”
“It’s not about the past.”
“No? You aren’t going to talk about all of our glory days? How we’re just a bunch of stupid jocks who can’t let go of the time when we were kings?”
“I mean, that might have been in there a little. But what’s the big deal? You were those things. You were destined for a life that people dream of.”
Lachlan huffs. “ This is the life that people dream of, Ainsley. Where they have a little something that’s theirs. Where they can raise a family, build a life. The legacy is in the little moments, not the big things.”
I disagree. “Legacy is what we leave behind, Lach. It’s not moments, it’s everything we are. The life we had, the things we did, the people we touched. You don’t get to define that. Your past is what made you the man you are today. The things you’ve learned, the way you chose to follow different paths, are all part of the greater story.”
It’s why I love writing about people instead of fashion accessories. There’s a nuance about uncovering layers of a person’s life. It’s all part of the threads that weave a story. Without those differences and colors, you have a muted and boring article that leaves the reader unfulfilled.
I don’t want that.
“Have you forgotten what that time was like for me?”
I try to remember back that far, but it’s a blur. First of all, I was so damn in love with him that I probably couldn’t see anything other than a heart each time I saw his face. Those rose-colored glasses were thick too.
“I guess I have,” I confess.
“I hated everything. I was so fucking sure I was going to be drafted. It was all anyone could promise. The coaches, the scouts, my teammates, and then I found out that Claire was pregnant. I walked away. I just knew that my life couldn’t be that. I saw what being away does to a kid. ”
“I’m sorry, Lach.”
He shakes his head. “You know what I hated most?”
I stay silent because I’m pretty sure it’s rhetorical.
“Having to see your face after I dropped out of the draft.”
I rear back slightly at that. “Me?”
I don’t even remember him telling me about it. Sure, I was sort of busy with college, but still, I don’t know why I would’ve been a worry at all.
“You thought Caspian and I were fucking heroes, and here I was, letting you down.”
Without thinking, I move toward him, resting my hand on his arm. “You didn’t let me down by not going into pro sports. Let’s be real. It’s not like I’m a fan of any sport. I go to games with friends and I’m lost.”
He chuckles. “I know.”
“I’m just saying that I should’ve never been a worry.”
“I think it was just the idea of you thinking I was a loser.”
The way he says it makes my stomach clench. I need to bring this conversation back to the witty banter we’re both known for. Otherwise I’m going to say something stupid like: You could never be a loser, I love you. Marry me. Let’s have babies.
I shift back to my original position and grab a cookie from the tray. “Well, you are a loser, but not because of football. Just because ... you are.”
I pop the cookie into my mouth, and Lachlan lunges forward, catching me before I can jump off. He pulls on my hips, the two of us laughing, and pins me beneath him.
“Take it back,” he teases.
I wiggle, but there’s no moving. “Never.”
“Berry, take it back. Say, ‘You are not a loser, Lachlan, you are amazing.’”
I laugh at that one. “Do you know me at all?”
He moves and holds both of my wrists in one hand. His other moves to my side, and I know exactly what he’s going to do.
“Don’t!” I warn.
“Don’t what? ”
“Don’t even think about tickling me. I will scream.”
He grins, leaning down closer. “No one will hear you.”
“Rose will,” I remind him.
“She sleeps through anything.”
Great. I try to pry my arms out of his hold, but all it does is press my boobs up against his chest.
The light, fun mood of this little moment shifts.
I do not think about the fact that I’m under him.
I do not focus on his weight above me.
I don’t imagine how easy it would be for him to kiss me.
None of those things I allow my mind to work through. Instead, I try to calm my racing heart.
Lachlan stares down at me, his brown eyes full of passion and something else. Something I’ve seen before, memorized and felt—desire.
It’s there, shimmering on the edges.
Kiss me. Kiss me. Please kiss me.
I beg it in my head, knowing it must be written all over my face.
The indecision wavers between us.
However, I will not do it this time. We’re not drunk. We’re not young. We both know what’s happening, but it has to be him.
“Fuck it.”
His lips crash down on mine, and I tear my arms out of his grasp, my fingers moving to the back of his head. The silky strands slide through my fingers exactly like I remember.
He moans against my mouth, hands gripping my sides, and I want him to bruise me, mark this moment in time, but he never would. I don’t think it’s possible for him to hurt me, unless it’s pushing me away.
That thought has no space here, though.
I open my mouth and feel his tongue slide against mine.
God, it’s even better than I remembered.