Chapter 12 Ash
Ash
Boone runs the bath without asking me if I want one, which is becoming a pattern with this man.
He makes decisions about my comfort the way he makes decisions about everything else, quietly and without consultation, and by the time I'm aware it's happening the bathroom is full of steam and he's testing the water with his wrist.
"Get in," he says.
"I'm not sure I can get from here to there without falling."
"Then fall. I'll catch you."
I make it to the tub on legs that feel like they belong to someone else and step over the edge and sink in. The heat wraps around every sore muscle I own and I make a sound that I will deny making if anyone brings it up later.
"Good?" Boone says from the doorway.
"I think this might be the best moment of my life."
"You've had better moments in the last four days."
"Not with hot water involved."
He smiles and leans against the doorframe. "I'm going to check on the horses. Soak until I get back. Don't drown."
"Is that a real concern?"
"With you, I'm learning not to rule anything out."
He leaves and I sink lower until the water rises to my chin and the ceiling blurs through the steam.
My body holds the story of these last four days in its flesh.
Dark bruises bloom across my hips where Boone's hands pressed one night, then Ledger's the next.
Teague's bite mark on my shoulder has deepened from red to violet.
When I shift in the water, muscles I never knew I possessed ache in protest, and between my legs throbs a tender reminder that makes me move just a bit more carefully. They have claimed every inch of me in this house, and my skin remembers each touch with perfect clarity.
I can only imagine what Cass has in store for me, excitement rather than terror bubbling up in my chest.
Marcus would roll away after sex, reaching for his phone while I stared at the ceiling.
The blue light of his screen would glow against the wall as silence stretched between us until sleep finally came.
Tonight, Boone ran me a whole ass bath as if caring for someone after breaking them apart was simply what one did at day's end.
The water cradles me while steam fills my lungs, a heavy sigh falling from my lips, though the peace is disturbed when the bathroom door opens without warning.
Teague walks in carrying two glasses of water, sits down on the closed toilet lid, and crosses his ankles as if conducting a meeting while I lie naked in a bathtub represents the most natural conversation setting in the world.
"Comfortable?" he asks, handing me a glass.
"I was in the middle of a very private moment with this bathtub."
"You and this bathtub will have to work out your issues on your own time. Drink your water, you're dehydrated."
"How do you know I'm dehydrated?"
"Ash, I could hear you from the kitchen today. You've been screaming for four days. Drink."
I drink because arguing with Teague is a waste of energy I identified early and abandoned permanently around my first Thanksgiving in this house. He stretches his legs out, sips from his own glass, and looks completely at ease three feet from me. Though I’m pretty sure that’s just Teague.
He waits until I’ve drunk half before reaching for the glass and setting it on the tub’s edge. "You did good today," he says. "Cass told me you kept up with him on the south fence."
"Cass communicated that in words?"
"He said, and I'm paraphrasing, 'he's not useless.' Which from Cass is basically a marriage proposal." He takes another sip and tilts his glass toward me. "You like working with the horses."
"I always did, when I used to come out here." I let my fingers trail through the water, watching the ripples. "Marcus never understood why I cared more about the horses than the house."
"I remember." Teague sets his glass on the edge of the sink and his posture shifts slightly, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Speaking of Marcus."
My hand goes still in the water. "What about him?"
"He called the house today." Teague watches me, reading my face with more precision than his easy slouch suggests. "Ledger picked up the first time and hung up on him, which if you know Ledger is a proportional response."
My whole face scrunches up in confusion. I understand why I don’t want to talk to Marcus but these are his brothers, which just reminds me of the fact that I’ve been getting fucked by them and their father. My face heats a little but I keep my gaze on Teague.
"Without a word. It was beautiful. Marcus called back, and I got it. He asked if we'd seen you." He picks up his glass again, turns it slowly in his hands. "I told him no."
Teague lied for me? I sink a bit lower and instantly regret it, water lapping up into my nose.
I shoot up straight, coughing around the excess water before sinking back down, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
The only reaction I get out of Teague is a slightly bigger smile and I can’t thank my luck enough that he’s decided making fun of me can wait until tomorrow.
He shrugs as he leans back a little. "Marcus has always been a douchebag but after finding out that he left you on the Meridian for six hours? Sunshine," He pauses for a beat. "He has absolutely no right to you or your whereabouts. Are you okay hearing that he's looking?"
I slide lower in the water again, careful not to get it in my nose, and think about it honestly.
A week ago, the idea of Marcus looking for me would have had me halfway to my phone before I'd finished processing the thought, already rehearsing the apology for whatever I'd done to make him worry.
Now? I just feel... like I should feel something more.
"I don't feel anything," I mumble. "I think I should. Scared, or guilty. But I'm just tired and warm, and I don't want to get out of this bathtub."
"Then don't."
"What if he keeps calling?" I start tracing circles on the surface of the water, watching them expand and disappear. Marcus will eventually come looking for real, because he doesn’t think we’re really broken up. Maybe I should have met him face to face.
"Then we keep lying. Ledger's been lying to Marcus since they were kids, and I learned from the best." He leans forward, his voice softening. "You don't owe him a phone call, Ash. You don't owe him an explanation."
"I know that. Logically."
"But two years of conditioning doesn't disappear in four days."
"No. It doesn't."
"Then let it take as long as it takes. Nobody here is rushing you." He moves to kneel beside the tub. His hand comes to my jaw, Teague tilting my face toward him, his grin replaced by something quieter and more focused. "Can I kiss you?" he asks.
"You've never asked before."
"You've never been this soft before. Figured I'd check."
"Yes."
Teague presses his lips to me. It’s nothing like the barn, just his mouth on mine, his thumb stroking my cheekbone.
He tastes like mint and I lean into it, something in my chest loosening that I didn't know was still holding.
The water moves around me as I shift toward him, the steam curling between us.
"Well," Boone muses from the doorway.
Teague breaks the kiss without rushing, which is either the bravest or most reckless thing I've ever witnessed, given that his father is standing three feet away.
He straightens and turns, Boone leaning against the doorframe with an expression that isn't anger or jealousy.
It's closer to satisfaction, the look of a man who told his sons to take care of something and is seeing the evidence that they are.
"Just checking on him," Teague says.
"I can see that." Boone's eyes move to me and the warmth in them makes my chest ache. "Water getting cold?"
"A little."
"Time to get out, Dove."
Teague squeezes my shoulder before slipping out into the hallway. Then it's just Boone and me and a tub full of cooling water and thinning steam. He takes the towel off the rack and holds it open.
"Come on."
He has the towel around me before the cold settles, pulling me out of the tub and rubbing the fabric across my body. He dries my hair by pressing the towel against it and squeezing, which is not how you dry hair but feels so good I just close my eyes and lean into his chest.
"You're barely conscious," he says against the top of my head.
"I'm very conscious. I'm just choosing not to move."
"That's the same thing."
"It's a philosophical distinction," I mutter, all but leaning into his chest, giving him most of my weight.
He dresses me in the sweats and t-shirt he left on the counter.
I let him because my arms are made of sand and because the act of being dressed by someone, having even the small labor of clothing taken off my hands, is something I'm going to have to sit with for a long time when my brain comes back online.
"Come on," he says, walking me down the hall with his hand on the small of my back.
Without thinking, I crawl into the bed and sink into the pillow, my eyes closing before my head has settled. Boone slips in behind, just like he’s slept almost every night, his hand falling to my hip as he drags me flush against his chest.
His mouth finds the back of my head, pressing there just as the bed dips in front of me. I manage to open one eye, Ledger fitting himself against my chest. I twist to try and look at Boone, but with both of them sandwiching me, I can only see an expanse of skin.
"Is this okay?" I whisper.
"Go to sleep, Dove," Boone says behind me.
I think I really, really like this arrangement.