Chapter 23
Sophie
Before long, two weeks have gone by since the accident.
The doctor comes for a check up—because of course you get house calls when you’re staying at a castle—and prescribes slow walking and a variety of exercises.
I’m instructed to practice rotating my ankle in a circle, and point and flex my foot. Then there are slow toe curls, which are more frustrating than I ever thought imaginable.
It’s a toe—two toes. When the doctors first told me I had broken my toes, I actually laughed with relief. I thought I would be up and walking regularly in a few days.
It’s the only reason I agreed to move into the castle.
Well, one of the few reasons.
But breaking toes is more troublesome than I thought.
Walking is a pain—literally. Every step causes a red-hot flash to erupt at my toe and flow through my foot and up my leg.
Plus, the swelling has caused my toes and entire foot to look like a sausage, and there is no getting it into a normal shoe.
It’s a good day when I replace the sandal box strapped onto my foot with my Hokas.
Of course, Ashton—because Ashton is still around—insists that my old pair of running shoes aren’t supportive enough, and also offends his fashion sensibilities because they are basic black.
The day after the doctor gives me the okay for shoes, Ashton shows up with a brand-new pair.
These are pink and orange and really very pretty.
I try to pay for them, but he won’t let me. Along with the gift of the paints, he keeps saying it’s the least he could do after he put me here.
Grumpy billionaire Ashton Carrington has a guilty conscience.
He also jumps at the opportunity to take me for walks, like I’m some sort of dog.
I’d be offended if I didn’t enjoy it so much.
And it’s not just the company—although that is still a surprise.
Because of the cold and the snow, we stay inside, starting on the top floor of the castle and each day work our way down to another floor.
It’s slow going and surprisingly tricky, since I have to retrain my foot how to walk without pushing off on my toes.
Before this, I’ve never appreciated something as simple as pushing off your toes.
I did that once, and the flash of pain was so intense that I really try not to do it again. I keep my crutches with me for support. But each day my foot and my toes get stronger and hurt just a little bit less.
And I stop asking when I can go home.
During our walks, I revisit rooms I haven’t seen in years, hallways I haven’t walked through, and awaken memories I haven’t thought of in years. And we see people.
After the first week, my visitors drop off.
Dad still pops in every morning and at the end of the day, and Spencer stops by when he has a minute, but Stella is busy and takes to FaceTiming me, usually when I’m eating.
Lyra is away, and Kate is super busy, and while Fenella has shown up when she has a meeting at the castle, she mainly is there to talk to Ashton.
Because Ashton is there every day. And now stays for most of the day.
I guess that makes me his friend?
On our walks, we run into the castle staff, including Mrs. Theissen.
She comes by to see me every day under the guise of asking if I need anything.
Along with looking after the family, she’s tasked with making sure guests are comfortable, which includes presidents, businessmen, other royalty, and now me.
I’m here because I have broken toes, and no one trusts me with stairs. I definitely don’t deserve the same service as heads of countries, but Mrs. Theissen treats everyone the same.
Except for Ashton. She’s a little extra chilly with him.
But then again, Ashton is a little brisk with her as well. With most people. He still has a grumpy attitude with others, at times bordering on rude.
I’ve called him out on it a few times, and he seems surprised.
I’m not sure if he’s surprised that I think that, or because I speak up.
When it’s just the two of us, I’ve noticed Ashton is a little softer, like some of his rough edges have smoothed out.
He’s still a grumpy billionaire, as the internet likes to call him, but he’s different around me.
It’s a week of inside walks before we reach the main floor.
I feel stronger, but Ashton insists we still use the elevator.
But on Friday, he lets me try the steps that lead down to the fitness centre, and the next day, our trip is to the gym.
Gunnar and Stella meet us there, Gunnar to work out with Ashton, and Stella to keep my company because my sister does not do exercise.
But I have to. As well as my new, full-time companion, Ashton has taken it upon himself to make sure I do all the doctor-ordered exercises.
“Ankle circles,” he instructs after settling me on a weight bench at the back of the fitness centre. “And then the doctor says you can try the towel.”
The towel—the mystical therapy I’ve been hearing about. The first exercise that will really try out my toes and show me how much longer I’ve got until I can walk like a normal human being.
Ashton drops to his knees before me to carefully untie my shoe, pulling at the laces until I can easily slip my foot out with barely a hiss of pain.
Then he drops a small white towel on the floor beside my foot.
“Try,” he orders and leaves me with Stella to babysit me as he goes off with Gunnar to use the Pelatons.
“He’s a bit bossy, isn’t he?” Stella asks, frowning at Ashton’s retreating back.
I shoot a quick glance at my sister as I begin to rotate my ankle. It all goes well except when I get a little energetic and the motion tugs at the stiff tendons around my big toe.
I hiss. “You shouldn’t really talk about being bossy,” I say. Even a simple movement feels foreign.
Again, it’s just a toe. Two toes, and so much trouble.
Stella frowns at my foot—swollen, bruised, and still taped where the fractures were healing. “He’s hanging around a lot.”
I shrug and reverse the rotation. “I guess.”
“You don’t think it’s weird?”
“I guess? I mean, we weren’t really friends before.”
“Does he even have friends? I mean ones that aren’t in his tax bracket?”
I stare pointedly at where Ashton and Gunnar sit astride the Pelatons, legs pumping, clearly racing against each other. “They’re friends.”
“Gunnar is a prince. That’s different.”
“I don’t think that matters to Ashton.”
Stella gives me a bewildered look. “What’s gotten into you? You act like you know him. Like you…” Stella hisses louder than I did when I was pain. “Like you like him.”
“Of course I like him.”
“Like him, like him. Like you want to kiss him.”
My heart skips a beat at the word. “What are you, twelve? I know what you mean.”
“I want to make sure,” Stella says in a stern voice. The big sister voice she still uses whenever she thinks she knows more than I do. “Because, Sophie, this is Ashton Carrington we’re talking about. The billionaire.”
“Son of,” I correct.
The big sister voice that also enjoys ignoring my protests, as weak as they may be. Not that I’m protesting wanting to kiss Ashton.
I have a feeling Stella would see right through that.
“He’s the type of guy you shouldn’t be liking,” she continues.
“I don’t like him,” I mutter. “But—why shouldn’t I? Just out of curiosity.”
This glance isn’t bewildered but makes it seem like I’m confused. “Please tell me you’re not falling for him.”
“I’m not telling you anything, but I’d like to know your opinion on why I shouldn’t. Which I’m not.”
“I know you used to have a crush on him—”
“I didn’t used to have anything on him.” I glance frantically at Ashton. That’s the last thing I need—for him to know that I had a crush on him, like some annoying tween girl. “We’re hanging out because—”
But I don’t know. We’re friends, I want to say.
But I don’t, because a little part of me believes the same as Stella does: that there is no way Ashton Carrington would consider me a friend.
“He’s bored,” I finish lamely, because there’s a sharp stab of pain when I say it, and I know it’s not coming from my toe. “That’s all it is. He’s bored here.”
“But why is he here?” Stella points out. “Gunnar wonders too. Sure, Ashton comes and they hang out, but now Gunnar is busy with the council meetings—”
“How is that going for him?” I interrupt because I don’t want to hear what she’s about to say.
“It’s good and a challenge, which is what he needs, but we’re not talking about Gunnar, we’re trying to figure out why Ashton is hanging around Battle Harbour in the middle of January. Haven’t you wondered that?”
“No,” I lie, because of course I have. I do ask myself that same question at least three times a day, but haven’t come up with a reason that makes sense.
“Well, don’t,” Stella snaps.
“I thought you wondered…”
“I can wonder, you can’t. Because if you start thinking about why, then it’s going to lead to other things, and I don’t want your mind to wander there.”
“And you said Ashton was bossy.”
“I know Ashton—at least I know what Gunnar has told me about him, which is a lot— and I know he’s not for you, Soph. It wouldn’t work. He’d only hurt you.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one making that decision?” I ask in a quiet voice.
“No. Yes, but not now. Not when you’re so vulnerable.”
“I didn’t realize I was more vulnerable now than I usually am. Which really isn’t vulnerable,” I point out. “At least it’s not a word I’d use to describe myself.”
“You’re lonely, sad because of the Martin situation—”
I laugh. “Are you serious?” I haven’t given Martin a thought in days, and Stella thinks I’m sad?
Maybe I was, but I’ve never been that sad over a man.
“You’re stuck up here, alone, with only Ashton for company. And yes, he’s very good looking, and I’m sure he can be very charming if he puts his mind to it—”
I huff with frustration. I know Stella thinks she’s trying to help, but she’s not. I don’t know what she’s trying to do, but it’s not helping me. “I think you should stop now because you’re starting to offend me.”
“I’m trying to help.”
“I know. But you’re not.”
My bare foot hovers over the towel. In theory, I’m supposed to scrunch my toes around the towel and pull it toward me.
“What are you doing?” Stella demands.
“My exercises. That,” I point to the towel. “Needs to come here.”
“So do it.”
Sounds like Stella’s sympathy is in short supply today. But that’s okay, because I don’t need a cheering squad. I try and curl my toes. A stab of pain, bright and electric, races through my foot like a charge.
“Have you ever broken any bones?” I demand because Stella still stares at the towel like I’m about to perform a magic trick.
“You know I haven’t. But I know you are one of the strongest people I know, so if you’re supposed to touch that towel, you’ll do it.”
That helps take the edge off the lack of sympathy.
I take a deep breath and try again. I keep the movement small, and this time, my toes curl just the slightest bit, enough to drag the towel a few centimeters closer.
“See?” Stella asks with a proud smile.
“Did it!” I call out to Ashton. My first instinct is to tell him, and the most natural.
Ashton pumps his arm. “Do it again.”
I don’t bother hiding my smile as I try again and succeed in moving the towel just a little more.
But when I look up at Stella, she’s no longer smiling. “Oh, Soph,” she whispers. “Just don’t.”