6. Ashlie
CHAPTER SIX
ASHLIE
“ I don’t understand how he can let her walk back in like nothing happened.” Hunter huffs across the table at Lunch-a-Bunch, slumped in the patio chair. We’re one of the only tables out here today.
“Letting her use his guest house isn’t the same as letting her back in.”
“It’s close enough.” He stabs a fork into his salad. “Too close for comfort.”
“I don’t know. Your dad’s one of the most welcoming people I’ve ever known. Maybe he feels bad for her. Doesn’t want to treat her the same way she treated him…” I’ve only met Hunter’s mom once, briefly, and she made an unsolicited comment about my natural hair that put me off from having any further conversations with her.
“Bullshit.” Hunter shakes his head and reaches for his glass, downing half the ice water inside. I don’t ever see him riled up like this unless he’s talking about Charlotte St. Clair-Johansson. “There goes Thanksgiving. And Christmas. And New Year’s.” The gruff tinge in his voice as he sets down his glass can fool most people. His lip twitching under flared nostrils really sells the rage he’s projecting, but I’ve known him long enough to recognize the hurt in his eyes. He’s never told me the specifics surrounding his parents’ divorce, but I know it wasn’t a good time for him.
“You could come to Bender for Thanksgiving. Chase and Kayla will already be there. We could probably convince them to get some wedding stuff out of the way.” I bite into my turkey wrap while he mulls over my suggestion.
Brows knitted together, his tongue juts into his lower lip. “You”—he finally says with a smile—“are a genius.”
This isn’t one of his signature smirks he lays on unsuspecting women at the coffee shop. It’s his honest to God, walls-have-fallen-down smile that makes his entire face light up. The smallest flitter dances inside my belly when I realize I made him smile that way. I shove the feeling away as soon as I sense it, but it was definitely there. Which is a problem because Hunter and I will never be more than the best of friends.
“Anyway, how’s your grad school application coming along? Isn’t the deadline soon?”
“Check, please.” Pretending to look for the waiter, I crane my neck behind me. Hunter laughs again, and that damn flitter threatens to turn into a full flutter. I clear my throat, a feeble attempt to rid myself of the tingles pooling between my legs. What the hell is happening right now ? This is Hunter . “The deadline is in December, but I haven’t started the application yet.”
“Why not?”
I roll the corner of my napkin nervously. Do I tell him the truth ? “I’ve been busy with work…” I say, but just as soon as I start, his eyes narrow like he knows I’m full of shit. “Okay, fine. All the requirements are a little overwhelming. Whenever I open up my laptop to get started, I panic.”
“Panic? About what?” He watches me intensely. He’s probably the only person who wouldn’t judge me if I told him the truth about this—about the family pressure.
My parents’ legacy is teaching, as was their parents before them, and the ones before them. When my sister took her own path, they doubled down on “helping” me choose a teaching career for myself. By helping, I mean taking it upon themselves to insert their will at every chance they could, making it nearly impossible for me to deviate from their plan without severely disappointing them.
I tried it their way. I really did. But their pressure mixed with teaching pressure drove me so close to the edge, it was scary. I overworked myself until I had a nervous breakdown, and my confidence took a hit that extended to all facets of my life. I still haven’t fully recovered.
Hunter’s the one who helped me come up with an exit plan a year ago. The whole reason we have these lunches is because he discovered I wasn’t eating well. I don’t know what I would have done without him. My therapist, Fit4U, and Hunter literally saved me.
“Ash?” He leans forward in his chair, eyes boring into mine. “Do you want to go to grad school?”
“That’s the plan…” My eyes drop as I fidget in my chair. I tuck my thumbnail between my front teeth and nibble furiously.
“That’s not what I asked. Do you want to go?”
I shrug, keeping my eyes trained over his shoulder when I look up. Saying no, out loud, feels dangerous. Voicing it will mean I’m willfully going against the legacy my family has built. Who knows what the butterfly effect will be if I admit I don’t want to do what I’ve spent a lifetime working toward? And the disappointment my parents will feel over me throwing it all away? No thanks .
“Ashlie, look at me.” His voice is soft, and the stark change makes my eyes go back to his. “Forget about everyone else and what they want you to do. Is this something you want?”
“I…don’t think so.”
“Then don’t. Screw anyone who gets mad about it. You only have one life, and you deserve to enjoy the way you’re living it.”
A tear slips down my cheek, and then another, until my vision is completely blurred by the salty river. I need to calm down . People are dying all over the world, and I’m crying over higher education.
I blindly reach for my napkin, moving my hands around the plate in front of me, when I feel the rough cotton swipe against my cheek. Hunter peers up at me, crouching next to my chair as he dabs my face with the cloth. He turns my seat so I’m facing him and props his hands on my knees.
“ Ugh .” I blow out the emotion clogging my throat. “I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I just feel so lost.” I slide a finger under my eye to wipe away the smudged mascara.
“Why do they get a say?”
“Because they are my family…”
“You’re a twenty-six-year-old woman who supports herself. Why do they get a say?”
I shake my head with a shrug. Hunter’s thumbs move back and forth across my thighs as he tries to comfort me, wholly unaware that his touch is sending electric currents through my body. Each tender swipe is more searing than the last. He doesn’t move until my breathing slows, and when it does, he smiles and slowly trails a thumb across my cheekbone. That damn flitter betrays me, and my stomach flutters wildly.
“Eyelash,” he explains, holding it up for me to see. “Make a wish.”
Without thinking, I blow the stray lash from his thumb and fly right into dangerous territory. He shudders as my breath fans over him, his eyes flashing with something I’m too scared to name. No . You’re seeing what you want to see, Ashlie .
Wetting his bottom lip, Hunter’s eyes shift to my mouth, and he gravitates toward me. I feel myself lean into him as if we’re attached by an invisible string. The flutters from before are now noticeable flops as I remember a moment when being this close led to something I’ve forced myself to bury time and again.
“Here’s your check!” the blond waitress calls cheerily, sending us both flying backward as we’re snapped back to reality on the restaurant patio. My head swirls as I try to make sense of being dropped from that cloud of intimacy. Focusing on the green and white striped bistro umbrella flapping in the breeze, I take a deep breath and try to ground myself. “I’ll be your cashier whenever you’re ready.” She smiles at us, sliding the check on the table before walking back into the building.
I reach for my glass and sip away the lingering sensations traveling through me. This is Hunter. Hunter . I know how he operates, and that magnetic pull I was feeling moments ago was one-sided. It had to be . He was trying to be a supportive friend, and I went and turned it into something more in my head. Again . I do this, getting misguided crushes on him every time I break up with a boyfriend. It always seems to last until the next guy comes along. When my logic recalibrates, he’s put back into his proper place. This was that, no matter what’s going on with my stomach.
As Hunter stands, he brushes the dirt from his knees and settles back into his seat across from me. Clearing my throat, I angle my chair to the table, pretending like I didn’t just have a full-on crisis from his touch. He pulls out his phone and scrolls with the same thumb that just sent a jolt through me as it traveled across my cheek.
I want him .
I mentally trample over the wayward thought to put me back into the right headspace. He’s probably over there talking to three different women, unfazed by anything that just happened. Figures .
Walking back to Fit4U isn’t any different than it usually is, with us arguing about who would win in a fight: squid vs. octopus. When we get outside the door to my job, Hunter pulls me in for a hug. We’ve hugged before, but after the one-sided charge in the air at lunch, I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t tick a beat faster being wrapped up in his arms. Okay, several beats faster. His spicy ginger musk curls around me like a protective blanket, and I lose all my common sense when he squeezes a little tighter than normal. Maybe I wasn’t imagining .
“Hey, have you been swimming lately?” he asks abruptly.
I freeze in his arms, the question unleashing an onslaught of anxiety. “Not in forever. I stopped having time when I was teaching.”
Hunter lets go and nods thoughtfully. “You’re just so down on yourself right now. I was thinking it might help you feel better. We could go together, if you want. You still have your membership at McMahon?”
I shake my head slowly. “Nope. That expired a while ago…” My voice cracks, and I let out a frustrated groan. I can already feel the tears pricking behind my eyes, something I don’t want to take in to work.
“Another hobby, maybe? Doing something just for you could be the thing that helps rekindle your spark.”
“Yeah…maybe.” I give a hopeless chuckle as a tear rolls down my cheek. Feeling the way I do, that’s all easier said than done.
Hunter throws an arm across my shoulders and pulls me in for another hug. “Hang in there, Ash,” he says with a squeeze. “You’ll figure it out.”
“Hope so… Thanks for lunch.”
“Sure thing, honey bear .”
He jumps away as I aim for his shoulder, laughing his ass all the way back to his car.
You can’t do it .
My eyes zoom around my living room, unable to focus on anything long enough to ground me. A steamroller irons out my lungs, each shallow inhale doing nothing to help me breathe. Wiping the cold sweat from my forehead, I lean back against the couch cushion, hoping it will give me a little more room for air. Another failed attempt at the grad school application, accented with an all-encompassing panic attack, and I’m convinced. Going back to school isn’t happening.
I need to clear my mind, take away the festering dread creeping through my body at this decision. After shutting down my computer, I grab my purse and head for my car. Without really thinking about where I’m going, I drive to the place that always used to put a smile on my face. I give in to every single worry scrolling through my head on the way—work, school, stupid emails from exes, my inability to latch onto a crumb of confidence—everything. Hot tears drip down my cheeks, but I save the downpour, waiting until I find a spot in the back of the parking lot.
The McMahon Swimming Center used to be my favorite place to swim. The year-round double pools—indoor and outdoor—made it easy to come here multiple times a week in college. Now, I can’t even step foot in the parking lot. I know Hunter offered to come here with me, but knowing my luck, I’ll have a panic attack in the water and drown in the pool. It’s been too long. I’m worlds away from who I was back then. That girl was confident and carefree. The woman I am today pretends well, but every little misstep gets logged in my growing book of inadequacy.
I look to the building again, the lights inside glowing like a beacon of hope as the sky grows dark. My mind screams at me to get out of the car, but the seven types of worry pinning me to my seat are relentless.
This isn’t helping .
Another tear drips down my cheek right as my phone buzzes in my purse. I dig it out and smile at the name on the screen. The text from my best friend came right on time, like she knew I needed the distraction.
Kayla
I’m freaking out. There are too many decisions to make.
Me
…Isn’t it literally your job to plan events?
Kayla
Regular ones, not weddings.
Me
You could hire a wedding planner…
Kayla
I did, and she fired me. Besides, what do I look like hiring someone else to plan my wedding? I’m an Event Planner.
Me
Ooh, girl, you’re gonna be such a fun bride
Kayla
Can you fly up next weekend?
Me
Girl, yes. And Willa’s all in as your photographer.
Kayla