Chapter 16 Ash
Quinn and I went to the kitchen, and I took a seat as she looked at the fridge. “I’m going to make an egg white omelet with some spinach. You need it in your stomach, or else when you eat tomorrow, your stomach is going to protest.”
As she busied herself in the kitchen, she handed me a glass of apple juice. “Drink it all.”
She worked in silence for a few minutes. “He was so worried they had hurt you,” she told me quietly.
Taking a drink, I realized I hadn’t thought of that. Of course, they would assume something had happened to me. Of course, Gray would go batshit when he couldn’t get hold of me.
“I didn’t think of that,” I admitted.
“You didn’t drop it, Ash.” She looked up as she beat the eggs. “You took a fair hit when you were tackled.”
“That’s part of the game.”
“I know.” She went back to the eggs. “Is it me?”
“Is what you?” I asked as I drank my juice. The kitchen was half-lit, and the house was quiet. It was kind of peaceful and a little bit surreal. It’d been a long time since Quinn and I were in the kitchen together, just the two of us.
“Am I the reason you had an episode?”
“An episode,” I snorted in disgust. “Makes me sound like I should be on Netflix.”
“Ash, you’re deflecting,” she chided me.
Draining my glass empty, I set it down on the counter. “No. You’re not.”
“Then . . .”
“I don’t know, Queeny, I just needed it today.”
Her steady gaze held mine before I looked away. “You need to talk to someone?”
“No.”
“You need to tell the twins what’s going on with you.”
“Why? So they can smother me?” I asked her and knew I sounded pissed off.
“You’re being harsh.” Quinn put the eggs in the pan and watched me. “You’re not mad at me, so,” her look was sad, “you’re mad at Gray.”
“No.”
“Need a better poker face, my friend,” she told me unhappily. “He never meant to hurt you.”
“Queeny, just drop it. I’m not mad at him, you, Jett, or anyone else.
” My hands rested on the countertop. “I am mad at the bastards who wrecked the girls’ apartment.
We’re Devils — we can handle this shit.” My finger pointed to the ceiling.
“Red upstairs? Not so much. This isn’t fair on her or Ava. ”
Quinn’s head dipped as she added the spinach to the pan. “I know.”
“So we fix it,” I told her grimly. “And we will.”
“I know.”
“Good, now stop mothering me and give me my food,” I told her with a wink.
She smiled as she plated the omelet and then poured me some more juice. “Eat up,” she said as she took a seat beside me.
Looking at the innocent omelet, I felt my stomach roll, and I looked at her, the panic I couldn’t hide clearly showing on my face.
“It’s okay, a little bite at a time,” Quinn encouraged as she grabbed my hand. “You can do it.”
“It’s just an omelet.” I forced myself to sit straighter.
“Exactly, it’s not big, it’s healthy, and it’s delicious.” Quinn gave my hand a squeeze. “You can do this.”
Picking the fork up with my left hand, I cut the first bit. “I can do this.” The fork wavered as I brought it to my lips, and I hesitated. “I’m going to throw up.”
“No. You won’t,” Quinn said quietly as she moved closer to me. Reaching over, she took the fork and ate the piece off it. “Hmm, I think it needed more pepper,” she said as she cut another bite and held it out to me. “What do you think?”
I took the bite and chewed as I tried to keep my stomach from revolting. “More salt?” I suggested.
“Now, you know I don’t cook with salt,” Quinn replied with a small smile. “Is the spinach wilted enough?”
Taking another bite, I nodded. “It’s really nice. Maybe a bit of cheese,” I added lightly as I took another bite and released her hand.
“Cheese? No,” Quinn scoffed as she beamed at me and watched me eat my omelet at three in the morning.
“We’ll relook at your meal plans tomorrow.
” She broke the silence. “I must be missing something that your body was craving, and I need to balance that out.” She shifted in her seat as she watched me eat slowly. “What did you eat?”
I finished my food and washed it down with the remaining juice. “Turkey, meatloaf, boiled eggs, four doughnuts, chips, and my little sister’s favorite chocolate milk.”
“Candy bars?”
“Only two,” I admitted.
“Okay, so sugar is an obvious one, the meat . . .” She looked away from me, and I could see her thinking. “I could add some red meat into your weekly plan.”
“It’s higher than chicken or turkey.”
“I know, I think you just need a taste, I’m not suggesting a rib eye,” Quinn joked lightly. “And of course, you played today, your body would be needing sustenance, and your blood sugar would have been low, which is why you went for the candy.”
“And the saltiness of the chips.” I tried to keep my tone light, and Quinn rolled her eyes at me.
“We can fix all of this,” Quinn assured me.
“Can we?” I looked at my watch. “It’s three twenty on a Sunday morning, and I’m sitting here like a loser after binging.”
“Stop it,” Quinn scolded gently as she took my plate and put it and the other dishes in the dishwasher. “You need to sleep. I mean solid sleep. Let your body adjust to tonight.”
“I remember what to do,” I reminded her.
“I know, you can’t stop me from being . . . me.” Quinn gave me a guilty smile, and I reached out for her and wrapped my arms around her.
It was a gamble, considering what we had been through, but she didn’t hesitate and slid her arms around me, returning the hug. We stayed like that for a few minutes, and I took the comfort she was offering as I felt the turmoil that we had been through finally settle around us.
“I missed you,” I admitted as I squeezed her a final time before I stood back.
“I missed you,” Quinn answered. “I needed that, thank you.”
“Don’t tell Gray,” I warned. “You tell him that I give the best hugs, he’ll sulk for a week.”
We were both laughing as we headed up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, I paused when I saw that both were sitting on the top step, waiting. Was it overkill, or did I appreciate that they were both waiting for us to come back up the stairs?
“Hey,” I greeted them quietly.
“You manage?” Gray asked me, equally as quiet.
“Ate it all,” I told him as I lingered on the lower step.
“You need to sleep in one of our rooms?” Jett asked as he stood.
“No, I’m okay.” I waited until they both considered me, and then Gray’s gaze shifted to Quinn’s.
“He’s fine, a small hiccup, nothing more,” she said as she squeezed my arm and then climbed the few stairs to Gray, who had remained seated.
Like she had with me earlier, she held her hand out.
“Come on, you need to sleep.” Gray waited a moment and then shook his head, his eyes on me the whole time.
Jett caught her hand instead as he pulled her into a hug, kissing the side of her head before she passed him and went into Gray’s bedroom.
When Gray’s bedroom door closed, I turned my attention back to my cousins.
Jett looked between the two of us, and then he murmured a goodnight before he went into his room.
Leaving me with Gray, who remained sitting on the top step.
“Are you okay?” I asked him as he hovered. There was no other word for it — he was hovering.
“Yeah, you?”
“Yeah.” Both of us waited, me a few stairs down as he struggled to express what he wanted to say.
“You should have stayed with us,” Gray said quietly. “If you were spiraling, you needed to be with us.”
“I didn’t know that I was.”
I watched him as he considered me, chewing the inside of his cheek before he abruptly stood and turned to go into his own bedroom. “You’ll let me know if you need me?” he asked softly.
“Always,” I answered quickly.
“Okay.” Gray looked toward my room. “Good luck in there. She was pissed.”
“She has a right to be,” I answered quietly.
“Yeah, what a shitshow.” Tiredly rubbing his forehead, he mumbled a goodnight.
Which left me standing in the landing, wondering if I had it in me to drive another three plus hours home. The answer was taken from me when Gray opened his bedroom door again and watched me.
“Go to bed,” he ordered me, and the fact that he knew I was going to bail was enough to make me head into my own room.
Red was where I left her; she hadn’t moved, and I didn’t know if it was because she was out cold from exhaustion or alcohol. Watching her sleep probably made me a creepy bastard, but she looked so peaceful that I envied the quiet of her mind.
As I slowly relaxed in the comfort of my own room, I felt tiredness pull at me.
Locking myself in my bathroom, I considered the toilet bowl and the omelet that sat in my stomach.
My nerves were high, and my anxiety was ready and waiting to make an appearance again, but I brushed my teeth, took care of my bladder, and washed my face instead.
The bowl was in my peripheral vision, taunting me, but as I rubbed my face dry, I knew I had to resist the temptation.
I snorted in disgust at my terminology. Temptation? What a joke.
I started making myself sick when I was fifteen.
I sprouted to over six feet, and I knew I wasn’t finished growing.
My dad played defense when he was in the NFL, and although he had been an athlete, he was a heavy one.
My cousins were slim and fast, and although I seemed to be growing up and out, and had the physique for it, I didn’t want to play defense.
Our coach in high school heard my plea, and although he wanted me to be the defensive end, I convinced him to let me play tight end.
My position meant I was on the offense but was big and blocky enough to defend during the offensive attack.
Coach had been impressed but not impressed enough, and I knew I had to shed pounds while still maintaining muscle.
I also needed to learn to run faster, and I was lucky that I was cousins with Gray, who ran for fun and was happy to let me run with him.