39. West
CHAPTER 39
West
I stand outside her door, my heart pounding in a way I’m not proud of. There’s no one around, no cameras lurking behind potted plants or half-open doors. The hallway is completely still—just me and a small box in my hand.
I hesitate, staring at the soft glow under her door. Part of me wants to turn around, but that’s the same part that’s kept me silent for too long. The part that’s let fear dictate every choice since she walked back into our lives.
Not tonight.
I lift my knuckles and knock twice, my pulse roaring in my ears. For a long moment, there’s no answer, and I think maybe she’s asleep. But then the door opens, and Ashlyn stands there, hair tousled, an oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder. If she’s wearing shorts they are hidden beneath the shirt. She blinks, surprise etched on her face.
“West?” she asks, her voice hushed, like she’s afraid she might scare me off if she speaks any louder.
I swallow hard, my grip tightening on the box in my hand. “Hey,” I manage, attempting to act natural. “Sorry, I—uh—it’s late.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “Is everything okay?”
I nod, offering her a small smile I’m not entirely sure reaches my eyes. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. Can I… come in for a second?”
I’m half sure she’s going to say no, and I’m ready to accept her refusal. But then she steps back without hesitation, gesturing me inside. The room is dimly lit by a single lamp on the bedside table. I catch the hint of strawberries in the air—her scent, warm and familiar. I exhale slowly, realizing how comforting it is to be close to her without all the noise and lights.
She closes the door behind me, folding her arms loosely. “What’s up?” There’s no wariness in her expression—just curiosity and that quiet kindness I’ve always admired.
I clear my throat, holding out the box. “I, uh, wanted to give you something.”
Her eyes flick down to the box, then back to me. “You didn’t have to?—”
“I know,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “I just… wanted to.”
She hesitates, then takes the box from my hand. I realize I’m holding my breath as she lifts the lid, revealing a small bracelet—silver, delicate, set with a tiny charm shaped like a music note. Her lips part slightly, a soft inhale escaping her.
“It’s nothing fancy,” I say, my voice quieter now. “I saw it in a little shop earlier today, and it just… reminded me of you. It’s just… for you.”
Ashlyn’s gaze flicks up, and I see the shimmer of emotion there. She sets the box on the table, lifting the bracelet carefully out of its wrapping.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, a gentle smile curving her lips. “Thank you.”
Heat creeps up my neck, and I reach out, brushing my fingertips over her wrist. “Here, let me.”
She extends her arm, and I fasten the clasp, my fingers clumsy with nerves. When I’m done, the bracelet catches the light against her skin.
We stand there, neither of us moving, and I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Finally, she holds her arm out, admiring the bracelet for a moment before looking at me with a tenderness that threatens to undo me.
“No cameras,” she says, her voice almost a whisper.
I nod, my chest tight with everything I want to say and can’t. “No cameras.”
She reaches out, her hand slipping into mine, and the warmth of her touch sends a rush of relief through me—relief that she’s letting me in, even just a little.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she repeats.
“I know,” I say, my throat constricting slightly. “But I wanted to. I’m… glad you like it.”
Her lips tilt up into a shy smile, the kind I haven’t seen on her face in years. “I love it.”
For a second, we just stand there, her hand in mine, the bracelet glinting in the lamplight. The city hums outside the window, but it feels like we’re in our own world—no show, no script, no need for pretenses.
“Stay for a minute?” she whispers, her eyes searching mine. “Talk?”
I exhale, nodding. “Yeah,” I manage, running a hand over the back of my neck as I glance around her small hotel room. “I’d like that.”
We settle on the edge of her bed, a comfortable silence wrapping around us like a comforting blanket. I can still feel the lingering warmth of her hand in mine as I turn slightly to face her, our knees almost touching. The lamp on the nightstand casts a gentle glow over the room, creating a small pocket of peace away from everything beyond that door.
She smiles down at the bracelet on her wrist, brushing the charm lightly with her fingertips. “It really is beautiful, you know,” she says, her voice low.
I clear my throat, trying not to sound too pleased with myself. “I’m glad you like it. I, uh, thought of you the second I saw it.”
Her eyes flick up, meeting mine. “Because of the music note?”
“Yeah,” I admit, giving a small shrug. “I guess I was feeling nostalgic. We’ve been working on so many songs lately and… well, you’ve been on my mind.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “You’ve been thinking about me?”
I swallow, feeling my cheeks warm. “Haven’t really stopped, to be honest.”
Ashlyn bites her lower lip, and there’s something so genuine about that little gesture that it makes my chest tighten. “Tell me about your day,” she says sweetly, nudging my knee with hers. “We haven’t actually talked, you know. Really talked.”
I laugh under my breath, rubbing the back of my neck. “Well, the day was the usual madness—sound-checks, last-minute changes, Xayden forgetting which setlist we’re doing, then refusing to admit it.”
She snorts a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. “That sounds about right.”
“Jake spent an hour arguing with the sound tech about the levels on his bass,” I continue, rolling my eyes in mock exasperation. “Like it wasn’t already perfect. And Todd was—well, Todd. Making sure everything is exactly how he wants it.”
Her lips twitch into a smile. “Sounds like all of you are living up to your reputations.”
I shift, leaning back on one hand, letting the other brush lightly against her arm. “We definitely earned them.”
She glances at my hand, then meets my eyes again. “What about you? How did you end up in that little shop?”
I exhale, feeling my heart pick up. “I wanted a moment to myself, away from… everything. We’ve been on this roller coaster ever since you came back, and I just needed to clear my head. Then I saw that bracelet.” I offer a small shrug. “It reminded me of us—the music, the memories. Of everything we lost.”
A flicker of tenderness passes through her eyes, and for a moment, we just stare at each other, the past humming in the space between us.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she murmurs, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I wanted to,” I say quietly. “Felt like maybe… it was a way to say I’m sorry without using words.”
Hell, I’m probably going to buy her more stuff. All the things I couldn’t give her when we were teens. Everything an omega should have, not that she can’t buy her own stuff now…every part of me wants to give her the whole world if she lets me.
She hesitates, then lays her hand gently on top of mine. “I can’t lie; it means a lot.”
My chest tightens at her touch, the warmth of her palm sending a jolt through me. Her words make my heart feel like it’s going to launch out of my mouth and hand itself to her. I notice the way her breathing hitches, and the faint tremor in her fingers. We’re close—so close that I can see the subtle shift in her expression, the moment she decides something.
“West,” she whispers.
“Yeah?” My voice comes out a little rough around the edges, like I’m bracing for something I’m not sure I’m ready for.
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she leans in, her lips finding mine in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s almost hesitant at first, as though she’s giving me an out if I want it. But I don’t. I lean forward, letting my hand slip up to cup her cheek, feeling the slight curve of her jaw beneath my thumb.
Her lips part against mine, the kiss deepening just enough to leave me dizzy. It’s not like the first kiss or what followed. This one is slow and deliberate and completely initiated by her. Completely her choice. My heart thuds in my chest, and the tension I’ve been holding onto melts away. All I can focus on is her—her scent, the quiet sound of her exhale, the way her free hand curls around my shirt.
When we finally break apart, her cheeks are flushed, and I’m pretty sure I’m breathing a little too fast. She keeps her forehead against mine, her lashes lowered as if she’s afraid to meet my eyes.
“I—” she starts, then stops, swallowing hard.
I brush my thumb gently over her cheek, waiting. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “Whatever it is, whatever you’re feeling… it’s okay.”
A tiny crease appears between her brows, and her lashes flutter against the soft skin under her eyes. I notice the way her pulse thrums at her throat, a subtle signal of her uncertainty and the emotions swirling beneath. She inhales, holding the air in her lungs like she’s gathering the courage to speak.
Please don’t regret the kiss. Please don’t say it was a mistake.
When her eyes lift, the nervousness in them settles into something warmer. Her lips tilt into a tentative smile, and she nods, exhaling a shaky breath. “I just… I’m really glad you’re here. That we’re… doing this. Talking.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding, relief mingling with the lingering warmth of her lips on mine. “Me too,” I murmur, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
Her expression shifts again, and I can’t help but notice how the glow from the bedside lamp highlights the faint freckles on her cheeks, the way her hair frames her face just so. There’s a vulnerability in her eyes, but also a hint of resolve—like she’s decided she won’t run anymore.
My heart thuds hard in my chest as I lean in, brushing my nose against hers. This time, I don’t wait for permission. I kiss her again, deeper, letting every unspoken word and apology pour into that single act.
She responds without hesitation, her hands slipping around my waist. The shy uncertainty from before morphs into something more charged, more desperate, as her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt, tugging me closer.
A small noise escapes her throat, a quiet moan that sends a jolt of electricity down my spine. My hand shifts from her cheek to the back of her neck, threading through her hair, and she presses closer, the heat between us flaring.
Her touch roams across my shoulders, sliding down my chest, exploring as if she’s reacquainting herself with territory she thought she’d lost forever. I know the feeling, because I’m feeling it too. Every brush of her fingers sets my skin on fire in the best way, and I can’t help the low, rumbling sound that rises in my throat.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Her eyes are wide, lips parted, and I can see the same mix of desire and disbelief mirrored on her face that’s thrumming in my own veins. I want her. But I hold myself still; that’s not why I came here.
“That was…” she begins, her voice trembling just slightly, a faint waver betraying how overwhelmed she feels.
I press a gentle kiss to her forehead, letting my breath fan over her skin as I breathe in her scent. “Yeah,” I say, fully aware of exactly what she’s thinking. “But I’m sure as hell not complaining.”
A shaky laugh slips out of her as she leans back, just enough for me to catch the warmth in her eyes. Her perfume tugs at my senses, wrapping around me like a soft, insistent pull, urging me to do more than kiss her. But I can’t. Not yet. Not like that first night.
I’m going to take it slow. Court her in the way she deserves—no rushing into something she might regret in the morning.
I wet my lips, forcing the words out. “I should go.”
She presses her lips together, her eyes darting between mine. For a split second, I swear she’s about to ask me to stay, and something in my chest aches with the hope of it. But then she nods, exhaling a breath that quivers just a little. “Yeah, it’s late… we have an early morning.”
A small smile tugs at my lips because I want so badly to extend our time together, to stay with her until sunrise if she’d let me. But I know myself—and I know her. If we keep going tonight, we’ll cross lines we aren’t prepared for.
So I stand, my knees protesting the loss of her warmth, and she does too, her hand drifting toward mine for just a moment before she pulls it back. She follows me to the door, both of us hovering in that electric silence that comes after admitting the kind of truth we just did with our kisses.
I pause, one hand on the doorknob, glancing back at her. The lamp light paints soft gold highlights in her hair, and the vulnerability in her gaze is enough to make me reconsider everything—sleep, boundaries, tomorrow.
Without thinking too hard, I brush my fingers over her cheek, the warmth of her skin an instant comfort. She leans into my touch, and I can’t help myself—I lean in for one more kiss, quick and delicate, a whispered promise that this isn’t goodbye, just goodnight.
When we pull apart, she offers me a small, shaky smile, and I let my hand slip away from her face. “Get some rest,” I murmur, my voice almost cracking on the words.
“You too,” she whispers.
I slip out into the hallway, my heart hammering harder than it did all night. And as I walk away, all I can think about is how much I already miss her warmth—and how determined I am not to let her slip away again.