Chapter 22
ALLIE
The floodlights above Ashton’s garage click on, bathing his driveway in a soft glow as we walk up the path to his house.
The car ride home was silent. Ashton had his head leaned against the window the whole time, but he wasn’t sleeping.
He swayed when he got out of the car, but luckily found his footing.
I’m strong, but he’s got at least fifty pounds on me.
Trying to carry him up the walkway would not have gone well.
He fumbles with his key for a moment before I gently take it from him and turn the lock, opening the door for us.
As soon as we walk in, I’m hit with the familiar scent of cedar and something else that’s uniquely Ashton.
When I inhale it on his body, it’s sexy—intoxicating.
But here in his house? It’s, I don’t know, comforting?
I’ve been here a few times now, so I know my way around.
Dropping his keys in the bowl on the entryway table, I steer him to the staircase.
He mumbles something about feeding Clover as I hold the banister behind him, in case he trips.
How did he manage to get even more drunk during the ride home from Declan’s?
He was pretty wasted in the pool house, but he wasn’t swaying this much.
When we finally get to the landing, he tries to sit down on the top step.
“Oh no you don’t.” I attempt to pull him back up.
“I’m just going to go to sleep here. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re not sleeping on the stairs so I can find you in a bloody heap at the bottom in the morning.”
A smile pulls at his lips. “Does that mean you’re staying?”
“Let’s get you to bed,” I say, tugging at his arm as I expertly avoid his question.
“Nah,” he says, sliding up against the banister. “I live here now.”
“Ashton,” I scold.
“Shhh,” he slurs. “I’m sleeping.”
His eyes flutter closed, and his breathing evens out.
“Ashton,” I try again. Giving up, I sink down to the floor next to him, letting my head fall on his shoulder.
How did we even get here? Three months ago I thought I would never have to see him again.
Now I can’t seem to stay away. My mind wanders to what he said back at the party.
It hurt to hear him basically call me a druggie, but what hurt even more was that he was right.
I do use alcohol and pills to escape reality—to cope.
Ashton stirs under my head, and I turn to see his honey-colored eyes roaming over me, licking his lips. “I never got to give you your birthday sex,” he says softly.
What? How did he even know? I make it a point to never tell anyone about my birthday.
“It’s okay,” he says, sitting up and resting his elbows against the tops of his thighs. “Just gimme one sec. Then I’m gonna fuck you so good, you won’t be able to walk.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. I’m well aware that I’m in a similar situation as I was a month ago.
Alone with a drunk guy. But the similarities end there.
Ashton is nothing like Craig. I think I might trust him.
I truly believe that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.
Drunk, high, it doesn’t matter. His soul is pure, just like Declan said.
Even when he made that comment about the pills, not even a full second passed before he apologized.
I know he didn’t mean it to be hurtful. He was frustrated.
“C’mon buddy, you gotta give me something here,” I hear him say as he looks down at his lap. I’m confused for a moment before I realize he’s talking to his dick.
“Ash, I don’t think that’s going to be happening tonight.” I gently place a hand on his thigh. “I’ll tell you what. If you let me put you to bed, I’ll stay.”
His eyes light up like a kid who was just told he was going to Disneyland. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “Come on.”
He stands up, but as he does, a faint look of panic crosses his face. Shit, I’ve seen that look. Please don’t puke. Please don’t puke.
“Ashton, I have to be honest with you right now. If you throw up, I’m out.”
He giggles like he’s a fourth grader passing notes with his friends in the back of the classroom. “You don’t have to hold my hair,” he slurs.
“No, I don’t think you understand. I can’t even be remotely near it.”
His eyes land on me, and his smile fades. “I won’t throw up. I promise.”
I’m not sure that’s the kind of thing you can promise, but I’ll take it for now.
We make our way to his bedroom, and I turn the dimmer on just high enough for us to see but so it’s not too bright. If he doesn’t already have a headache, he will soon.
He flops down on his king-size bed, kicking his boots off, and the fluffy duvet envelops him.
“Do you want to get undressed?” I ask.
“I thought you said that wasn’t happening?” He sits up on his elbows and looks down like he’s about to have another talk with his dick.
“I mean, so you can get more comfortable. Where are your pajamas?”
“Don’t wear them,” he says casually. “I usually just sleep in my underwear.”
“Of course you do,” I mutter.
I walk over to the bed and grasp the edges of his shirt. “Arms up. Don’t get excited. This is strictly business.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, giving me a salute before he lifts his arms up over his head. I remove his shirt and bring my hands down to his pants. “May I?”
He nods, and I unfasten his jeans, pulling them down and off. Then I pull back the duvet, and he climbs under it.
I sit on the edge of the bed and bring the blanket up higher, making sure he’s fully covered.
He gives me that goofy smile again. “You’re tucking me in,” he points out.
“Just making sure you don’t roll off the bed.”
“What do they mean?” he asks, changing the subject. He runs his fingers down my forearm, tracing circles around the black lines inked onto my skin.
“Which one?” I ask.
“All of them.”
“Daffodils are one of the first flowers to bloom after the winter,” I say.
He nods in understanding. “Strength,” he whispers. “They always come back into the light, even after being hidden away by the darkness.”
“Yeah.” I’ve never put it into words like that, but that’s exactly what it symbolizes. Resilience.
“And the quote?”
“It’s pretty self-explanatory.”
He chuckles. “You know why I call you Chaos? It’s not just because of your tattoo.”
I nod, my heart pulling my chin up and down with invisible strings even though my head is telling me to run. Because somehow I know that the next words out of his mouth are going to destroy every wall I’ve built.
“When I was growing up, everything was always perfect. Manicured lawns, pretty table settings. Every holiday, every birthday was tailor-made to look like it came from a magazine.” He sits up, the blanket falling down to his abs.
“It wasn’t real. None of it ever felt real.
” His eyes bounce up to meet mine, warm honey and amber swirling around his pupils.
“You are Chaos, Allie. You’re freedom, strength, and beauty all rolled into one.
You’ve taken all the numb parts of me and lit them on fire.
How am I supposed to go back to black and white now that I know what color feels like? ”
I fight off the tears knowing no good can come from breaking down. We’re both silent for several seconds. I don’t know what to say. His admission is beautiful and heartbreaking. I will myself to say something, anything, but the words don’t come.
“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday,” he adds.
“You didn’t,” I choke out, the lump in my throat growing by the second.
“I didn’t mean what I said.”
“Ash. It’s—we don’t have to talk now. Let’s get some sleep. We can talk in the morning.”
“Okay.” He scoots back down and turns onto his side.
He holds his hands out and I swing my feet up, lying with my back to his front.
Strong arms embrace me, his steady breathing filling the silence of the room.
We lie like that for a few minutes. I’m still wearing my clothes.
Despite what I told him, I hadn’t actually planned on staying, but a few more minutes like this won’t hurt.
Then I remember something he said earlier.
“Hey, Ashton?”
“Yeah?”
“Who is Clover?”
“Oh, she’s my niece’s bunny. She’s staying with me while they’re away,” he says sleepily, starting to drift off. “Thanks for feeding her,” he mumbles, and then he’s completely out.
I sigh as I gently move his arm off me. There’s no reason an innocent bunny has to be the victim in all of this.
I pad down the stairs and check in a couple of rooms, but I don’t see a bunny anywhere.
Finally, I pass by Ashton’s study because, of course, he has a study, and flick on the light.
There’s a small cage set off to the side of the room.
There’s a bag of rabbit food and alfalfa to the right of the cage.
Inside sits a small white bunny with one gray ear.
Her nose twitches as she hops over to the front of the cage.
I unhook the latch and take out her bowl, filling it with the dark green pellets.
I return the bowl and place some alfalfa hay next to it.
The bunny excitedly sniffs at the food, taking a pellet in her mouth and nibbling.
She looks at me like she knows I’m about to leave Ashton alone again.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say. “It’s complicated.”
Her nose bobs up and down, and I swear I can see her eyes roll.
“What? We agreed on no relationship stuff. Sleepovers are a relationship thing.” So is admitting that someone is the color in your life. But I don’t tell Clover about that. She’s already judging me.
“I have to go,” I tell her. “Thanks for listening.”
I close her cage and grab a few things from downstairs to leave on Ashton’s nightstand. Then, with my heart sitting heavy in my chest, I walk out of his house.