Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
ASH
I shove the iPad under a pillow the second I hear his feet on the stairs.
Papa pushes the door open without even knocking, the cold air rushing in with him.
I sit up straighter, pretending I wasn’t doing anything at all.
The whole apartment feels smaller with him in it.
I wait, quiet, hoping he’ll leave as fast as he came in.
“This place is a shithole.” Papa nudges the nightstand I haven’t finished stripping the paint from. “I don’t know why you insist on living here when you could be in the house.”
I swallow my first response, which would definitely earn me a backhand. “I’m an adult now,” I say instead, keeping my voice neutral.
“I’m an adult now,” he mimics, his voice going high and whiny. “Jesus Christ, Lynn.”
I hate when he calls me that.
Papa stops in front of the table and scoffs at the take-out containers of leftover food from the diner. “Living like a goddamn animal.”
Without being told, I start tidying up. I’m sure his kitchen looks worse.
“The bar’s getting busy now,” he says, kicking the trashcan. “Hangman’s Tavern needs another server. Tips are good.”
“I have a job.”
“That little shithole diner? What do you make there, minimum plus a couple bucks in tips? Hangman’s does three times that business.”
“I like the diner,” I say, sitting on the folding chair.
“You like the diner,” he sneers. He moves closer, rests his hands on the back of my folding chair. I feel his breath on my neck. “You know what I like? Paying the fucking rent. Keeping a roof over your ungrateful head all these years.”
I try not to tense up, but it’s like trying not to blink when someone’s about to poke your eye.
He smells like cigarettes and the cheap aftershave he’s used since forever, mixed with something sour.
“Tomorrow. Come to Hangman. See the place. Meet some of the guys.”
Guys. The word hangs in the air between us, heavy with meaning. Guys like Rex, with their grabby hands and hungry eyes.
“I’m busy tomorrow,” I say, and immediately regret it.
His face darkens. “Busy with what?”
I scramble for a lie and just shrug instead.
“Friday then,” he says finally. “No excuses.”
“Friday,” I agree.
“You don’t answer my texts.” He picks a dead leaf off my plant and flings it to the floor.
Reed’s knife is there.
I lick my lips and don’t look. If I pay attention to it, Papa will too.
I find some more things to stuff in the trash.
Papa plucks another leaf, and hands it to me, but drops it just before I grasp it.
I decide it’s just safer to stand there, hoping he’ll get bored.
He wanders around some more, kicking the shoes I left by the door, checking the tiny bathroom, looking at everything like it’s dog shit.
There isn’t much to mess with so he gives up.
“Your heat’s coming up soon,” he says, his hand on the knob. “You should be thankful I’m looking out for you.”
My stomach twists, and I wait for another panic attack, but it doesn’t come.
“You’ll give the Hangman a chance. It will be nice to work next to my daughter.”
“Sure, Papa.”
The door closes behind him with a bang that rattles the whole building.
I press my ear to the door to listen for the creaks to stop, to make sure he’s really gone.
Just as the silence settles back around me, my phone buzzes against the table.
I nearly knock over my coffee reaching for it.
The screen lights up with Beckett’s name.
Not a text this time. A call.
I glance at the door, half-expecting Papa to burst back in like he can sense what I’m doing. I swipe to answer, my finger trembling slightly.
“Hello?” My voice comes out too high, too breathless.
“Ash? Hey, it’s Beckett.” His voice is all warm and buttery. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
“No, it’s fine.” I glance at the door again. “Just surprised to hear your voice. You usually text.”
He laughs. “Yeah. I need you to settle something for me. It’s kind of a bet.”
“A bet?”
“Liam advised me to wait a week before calling you. Said if I don’t, I’m like one of those overbearing alpha types. Pierce said I should just wait until you texted me first.” There’s a smile in his voice. “But I couldn’t wait. So, who wins the bet?”
“They both lose,” I say, surprised by how easily the words come. “You should have called yesterday.”
“That’s what I thought. I’ll tell them they both owe me twenty bucks. I hit the jackpot.”
“You’re gambling now? Isn’t that against hockey rules or something?” I twist a strand of hair around my finger, trying to ignore the fluttering in my stomach.
“Only if we bet on games. Betting on my love life is totally fair game.”
Love life. The words hang in the air between us. I bite my lip, unsure how to respond.
“So,” he continues, saving me from my awkward silence, “what are you up to today? Besides looking amazing and breaking hearts.”
I snort, glancing down at my leggings and oversized sweater. “Yeah, I’m a real heartbreaker. Just hanging out at home. Drawing a little.”
“You are, you know. A heartbreaker.” His voice drops lower, and heat rushes to my face. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
“Liar,” I say, but I’m smiling so wide my cheeks hurt. “You’ve been busy with hockey stuff.”
“Actually, I’ve been benched since the concussion. But today’s the big day. Doc cleared me for light training, so I’m heading to the gym.”
“That’s great. I bet you’re going stir-crazy.”
“You have no idea. I’ve reorganized my sock drawer twice.” He pauses. “You should come with me.”
“To organize your socks?”
He laughs again. “To the gym. I’m not allowed to do much yet, but I could show you around. Maybe grab dinner after?”
I glance around my tiny apartment, at the walls that still feel like they’re closing in. The thought of escaping, of seeing Beckett, is almost painfully tempting.
“I don’t think I’m dressed for a fancy gym. I’m just wearing leggings and a sweatshirt,” I say, looking down at my leggings.
“You’re already wearing leggings? Perfect. That’s like half the battle.” There’s a hopeful note in his voice that tugs at something in my chest. “I can send a car for you.”
My father’s face flashes in my mind. If he finds out I’m seeing Beckett, finds out about any of this… Real fear spikes through me. He can’t find out Pierce and Liam are in Nashville.
“I’m actually out doing errands,” I lie, the words flowing easier than they should. “I could meet you somewhere.”
“Even better. Where are you now?”
I rack my brain for a location that makes sense. “Heading to the grocery store on Belmont. The one by the university.”
“Perfect. I’ll have a car meet you there in fifteen minutes.” He sounds so excited that guilt twists in my stomach for the lie.
“You don’t have to send a car, I can take the bus.”
“Absolutely not. I insist. As a matter of fact, I’m going to log you into my account so you can get a car whenever you need. Better than buses.”
“Okay,” I say, surrendering. “See you soon.”
“Can’t wait.”
I stuff the iPad into its case and shove it into my bag, then grab my coat. I check my reflection in the mirror above my sink. My hair’s a mess, falling into my eyes. I brush it back with my fingers and pinch some color into my cheeks.
“This is stupid,” I tell my reflection. “This is so, so stupid.”
I walk fast, the bus stop is three blocks away. I can totally make it to the grocery store before the rideshare shows up.