Chapter 16
Ashby
The moment we got back home, Milow signed goodnight and headed upstairs. I didn’t follow her right away. I didn’t want to crowd her or risk annoying her. I knew she would never get tired of me, but I wanted to give her space.
She was exhausted. It was late, and I didn’t want to keep her up any longer after a party I knew had drained her more than she let on. I followed Wesley into the kitchen instead. He grabbed a glass of water, and I leaned back against the counter, one elbow resting behind me.
“What’s bothering you?” Wes asked.
I furrowed my brows. He always knew when something was off. It annoyed me sometimes, because there were moments I didn’t want to talk about things. Even though, in the end, I was always glad I did.
I took a breath and gave a small shrug. “A few things, really.”
Wesley stood across from me, leaning against the island, his glass in hand. “Shoot.”
I chose just one thing. I was tired, too, and I didn’t want to drag this out. I also didn’t want to keep him up when Evie was already in bed, probably waiting for him.
“There were these girls at the party,” I said. “They were being mean to Milow.”
Wesley’s brows lifted slightly as he waited for me to continue, his jaw tightening as he tried to rein in the anger I knew was already there. When it came to Milow, we were both overprotective.
There had been too many moments over the years where we had to step in, making sure other kids didn’t hurt her—physically or emotionally. But since Wes was out of school, he couldn’t always be there to jump in.
I was there. But even I wasn’t with her all the time. I was a grade above her, and I only saw her during breaks, lunch, and after school.
“I think they’ve bothered her before,” I said. “She brushed it off tonight. Just ignored them like they weren’t even there.”
“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” Wesley said, though he sounded like he was still thinking it through.
“I know. I just…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “She’s good at pretending things don’t get to her. And I know it affected her.”
Wesley took another sip of his water, studying me closely. “If something actually hurt her and got under her skin, she’d tell us.”
I frowned. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he said calmly. “Milow doesn’t complain just to complain. She never has. When she brings something up, it’s because she wants it solved. She doesn’t waste energy on things she can handle on her own.”
“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still suck,” I muttered.
“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. “But there’s a difference between something being annoying and something actually damaging. And if it crossed into that second category, she wouldn’t keep it to herself forever.”
I stayed quiet, staring at the floor.
“And you’re there,” Wesley continued. “Every day. You see her at school more than anyone else. You notice when she’s off. If those girls really became a problem, you’d pick up on it.”
“I try,” I said. “But I’m not with her all the time. I’m not in her classes, but those girls are.”
“Still,” he said. “You’re around. You walk her to class. You eat lunch with her. You notice the small stuff. And if someone messes with her when you are there, you don’t let it slide. That counts for something.”
I sighed. “I just hate that I can’t fix it. That people still think it’s okay to be assholes to her. Or anyone, for that matter.”
“Yeah,” Wesley said. “I know. I hate that too. But you can’t control everyone. What you can do is exactly what you’re already doing.”
I looked at him. “Which is?”
“Being there,” he said. “Making sure she’s not alone. Making sure she feels safe. And trusting her enough to believe she’ll let you know when she needs help.”
I shifted my weight. “I just don’t want to miss something.”
“You won’t,” he assured me without hesitation. “And if you ever do, we'll deal with it then. Together.”
I nodded slowly.
“And Ash,” Wesley added, his voice softer now. “You’re not failing her just because you can’t shield her from every shitty person she meets. You’re doing fine. And so is she. That girl is stronger than we know.”
I didn’t doubt that.
I let his words sink in, grateful for his advice like I always was. I could always count on him for advice and perspective when I needed it. “Okay. Thanks, Wes.”
He nodded once and set his glass down on the counter, then stepped closer and pulled me into a hug. He patted my back before letting go, giving me an encouraging smile. “Anytime, kid. Now go to sleep. You can barely stay upright.”
I huffed out a laugh and ran a hand through my hair. “Yeah… night, Wes.”
Heading upstairs, I took the steps carefully, moving as quietly as I could until I reached the third floor, where Milow’s room and mine were. The narrow hallway was dark, and I stopped in front of her door and stared at it for a moment.
It was closed, and no light showed beneath it.
She was probably already in bed. Still, I reached for the handle.
I opened the door slowly, just enough to peek inside.
Her room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the moonlight. Milow was curled on her side beneath her blankets, with her hair spread across the pillow. She was already fast asleep.
I stood there for a second longer than necessary, watching her, and trying to prove to myself that she was okay. When I had somewhat convinced myself of it, I closed the door as carefully as I could, not to make a sound.
I woke up late the next morning. I hadn’t been this tired in a long time. School had only started again a few weeks ago, and before that, during summer break, I’d been able to sleep as much as I wanted. My body clearly hadn’t adjusted yet.
I stayed in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling until I felt awake enough to move.
When I finally checked my phone, it was already close to ten-thirty.
Everyone else in the house was probably up.
Even so, I didn’t rush. I took a quick shower, pulled on sweatpants and a clean white T-shirt, and then headed downstairs.
Before going down, I stopped by Milow’s room and peeked inside. She wasn’t there.
Downstairs, I found her sitting at the round dining room table with Mom and Dad, eating breakfast. Wesley and Evie weren’t there, so I assumed they had gone out for the day.
I smiled when I saw Milow and took the empty chair beside her.
“Morning. How was your date?” I asked, looking at Mom and Dad as they ate.
“Hey, champ,” Dad said, leaving the answer to Mom.
“Oh, it was wonderful,” Mom said. “We went to Vancouver and had dinner at this really cute French restaurant. I tried escargot for the first time.”
I scrunched my nose and glanced at Milow, who made the same face. I grinned and looked back at Mom while grabbing a slice of sourdough bread. “And? Did you like it?”
“Oh, yes,” Mom said, smiling at Dad. “Who would’ve thought snails could be so good?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Milow swirl her spoon around in her cereal, suddenly a lot less interested in eating while Mom talked about snails. I chuckled and decided to change the subject. “What about the hotel? How was it?”
“Expensive, but nice,” Mom said, shooting Dad a quick look. “But we had a great night.”
“I’m glad,” I said as I spread butter and then honey onto the bread.
When Mom and Dad drifted into another conversation, I turned to Milow. “What are you up to today?”
She shrugged and set her spoon down to sign. [I have some schoolwork to do.]
“Me too,” I lied. I needed an excuse to spend time with her. “Want to do it together?”
Her expression changed right away, her eyes lighting up. [Okay.]
“Perfect.”
About an hour later, I sat on my bed with a random textbook open, waiting for Milow to join me.
She came in holding four books against her chest, her pencil case tucked on top.
She smiled when she saw me and turned toward my desk like she planned to work there, but I stopped her and patted the space next to me on the bed.
“Come here.”
She paused and looked at me, clearly weighing whether she wanted to be more comfortable or closer. I tried to keep my face neutral, but my heart still jumped when she chose the bed and walked over. She sat down, leaving a careful gap between us.
She set her books down neatly, opened the first two she wanted to start with, then took out a pencil and immediately focused.
There was no hesitation. When Milow studied, she did so with no excuses.
I kept my science book open, but I wasn’t reading it.
I kept watching her instead, as if I had the damn right to.
After a minute, I noticed the faint color creeping into her cheeks. She was sitting there, writing, but she was blushing. Did she notice me looking at her? Probably. Milow was always aware of her surroundings, and she noticed the smallest things.
She shifted, then finally glanced up at me. Her eyes moved to my open book, then back to my face.
[Do you need help with something?]
I blinked and quickly glanced down at my book, pretending I had a clue about what was written in it, then I looked back at her.
“Uh. Maybe,” I said. “I haven’t really started.”
She nodded like that made sense and went back to her work, the redness still on her cheeks. I stayed where I was, pretending to read, fully aware of her beside me and trying not to think too hard about why her presence continued to affect me so much.
About forty-five minutes later, I was bored.
I sat leaning back against the headboard of my bed, tossing a baseball up into the air and catching it again.
Milow was still studying, her focus sharper than anyone I’d ever seen.
She hadn’t looked up once. It was impressive, and even though I wasn’t doing much, I liked watching her work.
In the time she’d been in my room, she’d finished several pages of math problems, read about twenty pages of a book I’d only ever seen the movie version of.
When she got stuck on a few questions in another worksheet, she pulled out a Sudoku puzzle and worked through it first to clear her head.
It was like it helped her think. Somehow, it did.
Watching her switch between things so easily was fascinating, and honestly a little intimidating.
What sixteen-year-old had that kind of focus?
That kind of drive to get things done so efficiently and so calmly?
Not me. And most definitely not the boy who just walked into my room unannounced.
“What are you doing?” Stan asked, staring at us like he couldn’t believe his eyes. “It’s Saturday, and you guys are studying? I can’t believe this.” He slapped a hand to his forehead. “I thought I raised you better.”
I grinned and looked at Milow, waiting for her reaction. She never let Stan get away with mocking her for long. She scrunched her nose and set her pencil down before signing, [School is important, Stanley.]
“Not if you want to be a professional athlete like Ash or me.”
[I don’t want to become a professional athlete.] Milow's hands moved fast, her expression amused.
“No… but you could still change your mind.” He pulled out the chair and dropped into it, grabbing the first thing off my desk, which happened to be my water bottle. “You could try dancing. Or soccer, like Scottie.”
Scottie was great at soccer, but she wasn’t planning on doing it forever. She wanted to be a doctor. What kind of doctor, I didn’t know. But she was ambitious, and I could see her reach her goals.
[I’m not good at sports.]
“You can always learn,” Stan said with a shrug. Then he switched topics, because I knew talking about the future made him uncomfortable. “I was thinking we could hang out today. Once you’re not busy, I mean.”
“Milow’s not done studying,” I said, glancing at her.
[Almost done,] she assured me.
“She just can’t resist me,” Stan teased.
Milow shook her head at that, her lips pulling into a smirk, clearly unimpressed. She went back to her work without another word, and Stan started talking about something that happened at the party.
Once Milow finished, she stacked her books and closed her pencil case, and we all headed downstairs.
We made ourselves a quick snack, nothing special, whatever we could find, and then took it outside.
We spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden, sitting in the sun and staying there as long as we could, knowing the warm days were already starting to run out.