Chapter 18
Ashton
That hug… I didn’t expect it. I didn’t even want it, if I’m being honest. Sophie is—
I’m not sure what she is. A means to an end? That’s rough, even for me. Someone I need to stay on her good side? That is true.
Someone I’m starting to care about?
Also may be true.
When she leaned against me, trusted that I would hold her up, it was… there was a jolt. It was like the rush I would get from starting the engine of a new car. So much uncertainty. The unknown of what would happen, so many ways I could mess it up, but I wouldn’t because I was too good at driving.
The excitement.
There was a rush like that when I hugged her, caught her in my arms and pulled her close.
It was something… something I don’t know how to describe.
It was like the first time when Mera—
Why am I thinking of Mera? Why would I even begin to compare the two? Mera was beautiful and sophisticated and sexy, poised and graceful and Sophie—
Sophie has been wearing her pajamas this entire week and not caring at all who sees her with her hair looking a mess.
Today was the first day she got dressed in something other than sleepwear, and it was only leggings and a sloppy sweater.
And she didn’t care about what she looked like when everyone showed up.
Mera would have thrown a fit and disappeared into the bedroom for an hour to prepare to be seen.
Sophie was so grateful they had come to see her. So appreciative that I had organized it.
I didn’t do anything, just sent out a text to Gunnar and Lyra and Fen to see if they wanted to hang out, but if you asked Sophie, it was like I had organized the Met Gala just for her.
It was kind of adorable.
She is adorable, and like no other woman I’ve known.
I don’t go and see her the next day.
I head into Battle Harbour instead, telling myself that Fenella wants to hang out. She did say something when she was leaving last night, but it wasn’t exactly an invitation.
But I tell myself it was so my feet wouldn’t head straight to Sophie’s this morning.
It would have been fun to be with her, to recap the evening and gossip about the others. But that might have led to another hug, and I’m not ready for that.
I wasn’t ready for the first one.
Fenella would tell me I need to process, but I don’t. I won’t.
I’m not going to get into what that hug was like for me.
Instead, I wander around downtown Battle Harbour until I realize I’m looking for things for Sophie.
Which of the latest bestseller books would she like? What’s her favourite candy? Would she like the purple sweater in the window of the clothing store?
This is becoming a problem.
Shopping is my guilty pleasure, but it’s something I do for me, not other people. Once in a while I’ll see something I know Fenella will like, and when I was on The Suitorette, I did the shopping date with Abigail, but I shop for myself.
Probably because I don’t have anyone else in my life to buy things for.
I cut out the window shopping and head to Coffee for the Sole instead.
I like Silas. I still don’t understand how it works with him and Fenella—how he puts up with her, rather than the other way around—but he seems to get my sister.
Plus, he makes amazing coffee.
It’s like the scent of coffee and sugar and the freshly baked pastries he sells leads me to the coffeeshop, like a black flag signalling a driver that they did something wrong.
But I didn’t do anything wrong today because staying away from Sophie is the right thing to do.
So says her father. And most of her friends.
I angrily push open the door of the coffeeshop.
The smell hits me like a wave, as the sounds of the shop wash over me—grinding of beans, frothing of milk, talking. Laughter. The Christmas decorations are still up, mixed along with the fish motif that somehow works for the place, and there’s a short lineup of demanding coffee drinkers.
There’s always a lineup in here, and for once, I’m glad I’m not popular in this town because no one talks to me. That’s how I want it.
I can’t see Silas and I’m glad about that too. Instead, his nephew Wyatt mans the cash register, smiling at everyone and everything.
I used to think calling a kid precocious just means they were a brat, but Wyatt is the definition of precocious, and he’s pretty cool.
Fenella is always going on about Wyatt this, and Wyatt that—he plays baseball, guitar, acts in the school theatre productions, and is some science whizkid who’s into stars almost as much as Silas.
He’s also seventeen, so he might be out of the brat phase.
Fenella told me that Wyatt’s mom is Silas’s older sister, and she took off when Wyatt was only months old. She was just a kid herself, but it left Silas feeling a heavy responsibility for his nephew.
It sounds like he’s more a father figure than an uncle, which means—nope. That does not mean that my sister is anything like a mother to a teenager. She should be happy being the cool aunt.
When it’s my turn, I order my usual—vanilla latte, extra hot—and nod at Leodie behind the counter when she says she’ll get it ready for me.
“Do you want one for Sophie?” Wyatt asks.
“No. I’m… no.” Everything inside of me tells me to grab her a coffee and head up to the castle, but I can’t do it. I have to figure out that hug first.
“I heard you’re hanging out a lot with her,” Wyatt continues like we’re friends and he has a right to know my business.
“Who says that?”
“People have been talking.”
“Why?”
“It’s a small town. People talk because there’s nothing else for them to do. Plus, you’re Fenella’s brother, so…” He shrugs and gives me a grin.
Wyatt loves Fenella. I hate being known as Fenella’s brother. Or Edward’s son.
I want to be Ashton Carrington, god of something I care about rather than someone who belongs to someone else.
There just hasn’t been anything I’ve really cared about. Or anyone.
“People really like her around here,” Wyatt explains needlessly. “She’s really likeable. You could be too.”
“I sense there’s a but there.”
“No but. People don’t know you well enough yet.”
Sophie does. It’s only been a week, but already she knows me better than most people. “So I’m not as likeable as my sister, is what you’re saying?” I demand, rather than contradicting Wyatt.
“You hit Sophie with a car, so big strike against you.”
“I guess.” I’m having problems liking myself because of that. It’s easier when it’s just me and Sophie because we never talk about her two broken toes and what caused it.
Being around other people brings on the guilt. And yes, I still feel very guilty.
“How is she?” he asks.
“Broken. Or at least her foot is.”
“Do you have some fairy godfather thing going on, or was the paint a guilt gift?” Wyatt asks, grinning at my surprised expression.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to know how you know that. But why is that any of your business?”
“You’re Ashton Carrington, and I am your sister’s biggest fan. So yeah—people talk about everything, and it is my business.”
Is it precociousness or something else that makes this kid spout off and say anything he wants? “It’s not,” I say flatly, paying for my drink with a tap of my phone. “Nothing about me is your business.”
“This isn’t a bad place if you let yourself enjoy it,” Wyatt calls after me.
“I disagree,” I toss over my shoulder.
“Then what are you still doing here?” he asks.