41. Ashlyn
CHAPTER 41
Ashlyn
The days pass in a blur of little moments. It’s not the big, sweeping gestures that undo me—it’s the quiet things. The way Jake always has a cup of tea waiting for me after soundcheck, or how West will sit beside me during rehearsals, silently strumming his guitar as if he’s creating a soundtrack just for us. Todd pulls me out onto the stage each night, his hand firm and steady in mine, like he’s daring the world to question why I’m there. And Xayden… he’s always there with his grin, his teasing remarks, and the way his hand brushes against mine like he can’t help himself.
It’s all so… real. So achingly sweet that it makes my heart ache in ways I don’t know how to handle. I forget the cameras are there, forget that Shelley’s grand plan is still in motion. Because when they bring me out on stage and sing to me, it’s not for the cameras or the crowd. It’s for me.
Every night, when Todd’s voice wraps around me, West’s guitar hums low, Jake’s bass thrums steady, and Xayden’s rhythm pounds through the stage, I feel it in my chest. It’s like they’re stitching something back together inside me, something I didn’t even know was broken.
It’s everything I dreamed of as a teenager, standing on the sidelines of their lives, imagining what it would be like if we were together. And it’s all the things I missed when I made the choice to walk away for my career.
But here’s the thing—remembering that choice doesn’t hurt the way it used to.
The resentment I carried for so long, the bitterness over them telling me to choose, it doesn’t sting the same way anymore. We were young, all of us emotional and overwhelmed by feelings none of us understood back then.
It’s different now.
They aren’t telling me to choose between my career and them.
The feelings growing inside of me now feel bigger, heavier, more permanent. The second I let them back in, I knew it wouldn’t be the same as it was before. This time, I can feel the difference.
They’re not just trying to win me back—they’re trying to make a place for me. In their lives, in their music, in their pack.
And the truth is, I’m letting them.
I can see it in every little thing they do, in the way they watch me, the way they take care of me without smothering me. The way they’ve let me set the pace while making it abundantly clear they’re not going anywhere.
I sit on the edge of the bed in yet another hotel room, twirling the charm on my bracelet. The small music note catches the light, and I can’t help but smile. It’s become a habit, this nervous fiddling with the bracelet, but it’s also become my reminder.
They’re trying.
For me. For us.
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts, and when I open it, Todd is standing there, his hair still damp from the shower, a sheepish grin on his face.
“Hey,” he says, holding up a bag from the café down the street. “Thought you might be hungry.”
I laugh lightly, stepping aside to let him in. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Sure, I did,” he says, setting the bag on the table. “You didn’t eat much earlier, and Xayden wouldn’t shut up about how we need to keep you fed and happy.”
I roll my eyes, but warmth spreads through my chest anyway. “I’m fine, you know.”
Todd turns, leaning back against the table, his arms crossed as he studies me. “You don’t have to be fine all the time, Ash.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, and I look away, focusing on the bag instead. “I know,” I say.
He doesn’t press further, just steps closer, his hand brushing against mine as he tilts his head to catch my gaze. “We’ve got you, okay? All of us.”
And just like that, the ache in my chest fades, replaced by something warmer, steadier.
“I know,” I say again, this time meeting his eyes. And I let myself believe it.
“Good.” Todd smiles, his hand dropping from my chin as he turns back to the table. “Now, are you going to sit and eat, or do I need to feed you?”
A laugh pops unbidden from my lips, breaking through the tension like sunlight through clouds. “That depends on what you picked out,” I say, sinking into the chair next to the table, curiosity piqued.
He raises an eyebrow, smirking as he pulls a container from the bag. “Your favorite, obviously.”
He flips the lid open with a casual flourish, revealing a perfectly prepared plate of chicken parmesan, complete with a side of spaghetti and garlic bread. The aroma hits me immediately—warm, savory, and so familiar it makes my chest tighten.
I blink, the humor in my smile faltering for a moment as the realization sinks in. “You remembered,” I whisper, my voice quieter than I intended.
Todd pauses, his smirk softening into something gentler. “Of course I did,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “This was your meal. Every birthday, every special occasion—this was the go-to. Figured it hasn’t changed.”
I stare at the container, my fingers brushing against the edge of the table as a wave of emotion washes over me. He’s right—I haven’t changed. Not in the ways that matter.
“You didn’t have to go through all that trouble,” I manage, my throat feeling tighter than it should.
“It wasn’t trouble,” Todd says, his tone firm but kind. “Taking care of you is what I need to do.”
The sincerity in his words makes my chest ache in the best way. I glance up at him. “Thank you,” I say, meaning it more than I can express.
He grins, his usual confidence returning as he grabs a fork from the bag and hands it to me. “You can thank me by actually eating it.”
I roll my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips is genuine. I twirl some spaghetti onto my fork and take a bite, the familiar flavors wrapping around me like a warm hug.
Todd leans back against the dresser, watching me with a satisfied look on his face. “It’s good, right? We’ve stopped at that little Italian place on each tour, and it’s always reminded me of you. I knew you’d love it.”
I laugh lightly, shaking my head. “It’s perfect.”
For a moment, the room feels quieter, the noise of the outside world fading away. It’s just us, the scent of garlic and marinara in the air, the warmth of his presence filling the space.
I take another bite, savoring the familiar flavors, but my mind isn’t on the food anymore. It’s on them. On Todd, standing a few feet away with his easy confidence and quiet care, on the rest of them waiting somewhere nearby, each carving their way back into my heart in ways I didn’t think possible.
I’m quickly becoming addicted to them again. The need to be around them seems to grow stronger with each passing day, and I’m not sure it’s just my heat coming on.
No. It’s more than that.
It’s the way Jake knows when to speak and when to just be there. The way West’s steady presence anchors me when I start to overthink. The way Xayden’s humor breaks through the walls I didn’t even realize I was still holding onto. And Todd—he’s always been the leader, the one with the fire in his voice and the steadiness in his actions.
They’re not just people I used to love. They’re the ones I still love. The ones I chose to let back into my life, knowing full well how dangerous it could be.
But now I’ve made another choice—one they don’t know about yet.
I should tell him. Tell them. They deserve to know. They need to be aware of the decision I’ve made, of what it means that I haven’t been taking those pills.
I set my fork down, my appetite suddenly fading as the thought settles over me.
“Hey,” Todd says, his voice gentle as he steps closer. “What’s wrong?”
I glance up at him, meeting his concerned gaze. His brow furrows slightly, and the way he looks at me—like he’s ready to shoulder whatever burden I’m carrying—makes my chest tighten.
“I need to tell you something,” I say.
He pulls out the chair across from me and sits, leaning forward, his forearms resting on the table. “You can tell me anything, Ash. You know that.”
I hesitate, my fingers toying with the edge of the tablecloth. “I haven’t been taking the pills,” I say finally, the words spilling out before I can second-guess myself.
His expression doesn’t change right away, but I see the flicker of understanding in his eyes.
“You mean the suppressants? For your heat?” he asks, his voice low.
I nod, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “My heat is going to hit soon. Probably while I’m still with you guys.”
He exhales slowly, leaning back in his chair as he processes what I’ve just said. I can see the wheels turning in his head, the way his jaw tightens slightly, though his expression stays calm.
“Why?” he asks finally, his tone measured but curious. “Why did you stop taking them?”
“Because I don’t want to hide anymore,” I admit, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I don’t want to keep shutting this part of myself off. Not when… not when I’m with you. With all of you. But if you don’t—I can find a heat clinic.”
A low growl rumbles from his chest, and the words catch in my throat. It’s possessive, a sound I crave in ways I maybe shouldn’t. Suddenly, I’m second-guessing everything. My palms are damp, my pulse racing. Oh God, maybe I didn’t make the right choice.
His eyes soften, and he leans forward again, resting a warm, steady hand over mine. “Ash, you know what that means, right? What it means for all of us?”
“I do,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
He studies me for a long moment, his thumb brushing against the back of my hand in slow, deliberate circles. The motion is soothing, grounding me when I feel like I might come undone.
“Jake will make sure we don’t cross any lines,” he says finally, his voice low and even, like he’s laying out a plan.
My heart thumps so loudly I can barely hear his next words.
“But we will be the ones to help you through your heat.”
The knot in my chest loosens, releasing the tight coil of fear I was holding. I nod, my fingers curling slightly under his hand, a small smile tugging at my lips.
“You’re not doing this alone,” he adds, his voice dipping, more careful, his eyes searching mine for something—confirmation, maybe, or trust.
“I know,” I whisper. And for the first time, I truly mean it.
Todd squeezes my hand before letting go, leaning back in his chair with a faint, boyish grin that makes something warm bloom in my chest. “Eat up, Ash,” he says, gesturing to the plate in front of me. “You’ll need your energy.”
I roll my eyes, but I pick up my fork again, twirling some spaghetti around the tines. The warmth of his words lingers, steady and reassuring, and as I take another bite, excitement settles inside of me.