36. Xayden
CHAPTER 36
Xayden
I watch as Ashlyn settles into one of the plush seats, her movements graceful but careful, like she’s trying to take up as little space as possible. It’s something I’ve noticed about her lately, the way she pulls herself inward, like she’s bracing for impact.
I drop down next to her, sprawling out like I own the space, twirling my drumstick between my fingers. Her head turns slightly, and when her gaze flicks to mine, her eyebrows lift in silent question.
Can I help you?
I chuckle under my breath, leaning back and letting my eyes trace the curve of her jaw, the soft line of her mouth. She’s beautiful—she always has been—but now there’s something more to her.
I’ve noticed it before, flashes of it in the way she holds herself, the way she speaks. But sitting beside her now, close enough to see the faint lines of exhaustion mingling with her determination, it hits me like a freight train.
She’s grown into herself. Into a self-sufficient, successful omega who doesn’t need anyone to define her. Doesn’t need a pack. And damn if it doesn’t make her even more irresistible.
The corner of my mouth tilts up into a grin, and she narrows her eyes slightly, like she’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking.
“That stuff you said—” The words come out before I even think them through, my heart pushing them past my lips before my brain can catch up.
Her brows knit together, the confusion clear on her face. “What stuff?”
“The other day,” I say. I swallow, wetting my lips as I lean forward slightly, resting my forearm on the armrest between us. “What you said during the shoot. About being broken. About trying. Did you mean it?”
She blinks, caught off guard, her posture stiffening just a little. For a second, I think she might deflect, throw out some canned response for the sake of avoiding the truth.
But then she sighs, her shoulders relaxing as she meets my gaze head-on. “Yes,” she says simply, her voice steady. “I meant it.”
The honesty in her eyes hits hard, and I can’t look away.
I twirl the drumstick again, my grip tightening slightly. “Good,” I say, my grin easing into something more honest. “Because if you said you hadn’t, I’d have called bullshit.”
That earns me a small smile, the kind that tugs at the corner of her lips but doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I figured you might,” she says, her voice lighter now, but there’s still a hint of vulnerability beneath it.
I lean back, letting my drumstick rest across my knees as I watch her. “You’re not broken, you know,” I say, my tone quieter now. “At least, not in a way that can’t be put back together.”
Her smile falters, her gaze dropping to her hands as she fiddles with the edge of her sleeve. “Maybe,” she says softly. “But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
“Nothing worth it ever is,” I reply without hesitation. “Something I could have learned years ago, if I weren’t so stupid and pushed the one person away who meant everything to me.”
Her eyes flick back to mine, something unreadable swirling in their depths. For a second, I think she’s about to say something, something that might crack the walls she’s been holding up so tightly, but then the plane lurches slightly as the engines start, and the moment slips away.
I twirl the drumstick again, letting the silence stretch between us. But my thoughts? My thoughts are loud, running in relentless circles around one thing: her.
She’s all I’ve been able to think about since she walked back into our lives. Sure, with the exception of West—who I’m pretty sure took an unspoken vow of celibacy the second Ash walked away back then—we’ve all been with other women. For me, a few were out of spite. Some were distractions. And all of them were forgettable.
None of them have ever been able to wash her out of my system.
It’s like she’s imprinted on me, embedded in every part of who I am. And now that she’s back? The alpha in me can’t stop pacing, growling, demanding to claim her in every way possible.
Unfortunately for him, the ways that are possible are none.
Because no matter how close she’s sitting to me right now, no matter how her scent tangles in the air between us, sweet and intoxicating, she’s still out of reach. Out of bounds.
But I’m going to change that.
Now that I know she was serious, that her words weren’t just for the show, the game has shifted. She isn’t running again, and we’re never going to make her choose. Not between us and her dreams. Not between us and herself.
We may have been stupid back then—jealous, insecure, and blind to what she truly needed—but I think we’ve all learned that lesson the hard way.
I twirl the drumstick between my fingers, my grin returning as a plan begins to form in the back of my mind.
She’s here now. She’s willing to try.
And I’ll be damned if I don’t do everything in my power to show her that she doesn’t have to keep us out anymore. She doesn’t have to do this alone.
Ashlyn Robinson isn’t just the girl who got away.
She’s the one we’re going to fight to keep.
After she passes out, I grab one of the blankets from the overhead compartment and drape it over her, tucking it carefully around her. Her breathing is slow and even, her face relaxed in a way I rarely see. None of the walls are up, none of the perfect masks she wears to navigate the world. Just her.
Her hair falls over her face, and I brush it back gently, my fingers lingering for half a second longer than they should. She looks so peaceful like this, so Ashlyn, it makes my chest ache.
Todd drops into the seat across from me, his eyes immediately settling on her. “I’m glad Shelley agreed to our crazy idea of her coming on tour with us,” he says, his voice low.
I glance at him, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “Ash may kill you if she figures out it was you who got her stuck with us.”
“She’ll thank me by the end of the two weeks,” Todd says confidently. “Because we’ll be a pack again.”
“You assume.”
He shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “I felt the way she kissed me back. That wasn’t just for the cameras. She feels it, even if she’s scared to admit it. We’ll prove to her that she doesn’t have to fight this. That we need each other.”
I look back at her, at the faint rise and fall of her chest under the blanket, the slight parting of her lips as she sleeps.
“She doesn’t need us,” I say quietly.
Todd’s gaze sharpens, his brows furrowing. “What are you talking about? Of course she does. We’re scent-matched. We’re hers. She’s ours.”
I shake my head slightly, not taking my eyes off her. “She’s made a life for herself without us. She’s built something solid, something she can control. She’s successful, strong. She doesn’t need us, Todd.”
“But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want us,” he counters, his voice firm.
I sit back, his words pressing against me as I study her sleeping face again.
“Maybe,” I admit after a long pause. “But we’ve got two weeks to prove to her that we’re more than the guys who broke her heart.”
“And that we’re not going anywhere this time,” Todd says.
I glance at him, and for once, we’re completely in sync. Two weeks to prove none of this is fake.