Chapter 11 #2
Each time had been raw and brutal, filled with need that left marks and bruises and satisfied something savage in both of us.
But then Ash had started using his words, just like now. He’d asked what this was and what it meant for us, and every time, I found myself backpedaling and skirting around the answer.
I didn’t know what this was. It was amazing sex, that was for sure, but I didn’t understand why he was so keen to put a label on it. Labels ruined everything, They made things fragile and breakable and created spaces for people to walk away from.
Hate-sex was so much easier.
“Yeah,” I said, not meeting his eyes. “That’s all it is.”
And then I slipped back into character and lunged at him as they started playing out fight song.
* * *
I spotted Ash across the staff room and immediately wanted to turn around.
Too late. He’d already seen me, his eyes tracking my movement from the doorway to the drink fridge. The protein bar in his hand stayed suspended halfway to his mouth.
Every table was packed tonight. The park itself was at capacity, which meant we’d all been pushing hard and long, and everyone was overdue for their breaks. Parker was cycling through fast, trying to get everyone fed and watered before the next scheduled group parade.
I slipped past a group of neon skeletons and only frowned slightly at the vampires arguing about blood consistency near the vending machines. I hope they were talking about homemade fake blood. Even the fucking murder clowns were in here, their oversized shoes taking up two chairs each.
The noise level was absurd; someone’s laugh cut through the din like a hacksaw, and the energy was palpable. We were all so wired.
I grabbed a water bottle and did the math. There was only one empty seat in the entire room.
Directly across from Ash.
Fuck my life.
Parker scheduled duo performers on the same breaks, but usually that meant one of us would bail to the parking lot and let the other have the staff room.
It was an unspoken system and a clean division of territory that had been working for us so far.
At least that was the case when we weren’t rutting against each other somewhere, trying not to smudge our stage makeup in the process.
The parking lot option sucked tonight. I’d been running late, so my car was shoved way at the back near the overflow section, practically in the next county. No way could I walk out there, sit, and still have time to eat anything before we were back on.
I could feel the weight of Ash’s stare. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t taken that bite of his protein bar, just watched me like he was waiting to see what I’d do; walk out and look like a coward, or sit down and deal with whatever the hell this was going to become.
I crossed the room and dropped into the chair across from Ash without a word.
His jaw worked. “Didn’t think you’d stay.”
I twisted the cap off my water bottle and took a long drink, stalling. “Why would I leave?”
“Because you usually do.”
He wasn’t wrong. I unwrapped my own protein bar, keeping my expression neutral. “I’m hungry.”
“So am I.” Ash leaned forward, elbows on the table, and it didn’t take a genius to know he didn’t mean for food. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
Here it comes. Whatever the hell this was going to be, I could see it building behind his eyes. He had that look, the one that meant he’d been thinking too much, building up to something that was going to wreck us both, and not in the amazing rough sex way.
“I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”
His jaw twitched, his irritation showing. “We both know that’s not what I mean.”
I took another bite of my protein bar, chewing slowly. “Then say what you mean.”
“What are we doing?”
“Having a break.”
“Jude.” His voice dropped, got rougher. “You know what I’m asking.”
I did. Of course I fucking did. But admitting that meant admitting other things, things I’d sworn I wouldn’t let matter.
I glanced around the crowded room, at the chaos of performers and noise. “You want to do this here?”
I knew I was stalling. The truth was a heavy shackle around my heart, and it was something I refused to name because naming it would make it real, and making it real would give it power to destroy me.
We had great sex. Amazing sex. The kind that left bruises and bite marks, the kind that made me forget how badly every man in my life had fucked me up. Why would Ash want to risk that for something unknown?
Why would I?
If I let him in, if I admitted there was something more than just rough encounters in dark corners and breathless fights that turned into something else entirely, then I’d be setting myself up for the same kind of pain I’d sworn I’d never feel again.
I didn’t think I could handle that.
Thankfully, Ash’s expression shifted off me and to the clowns laughing to his left. His frustration bled into something that looked like resignation, and I tried not to show my own relief.
“You’re right. Not here.”
“I’m always right.” I grinned at him, falling back on the cocky-bastard side of me.
The surrounding conversations buzzed like static, and it was strange how I could feel so isolated within such a packed space.
It was all Ash’s fault. If it had been Riley or even Simon sitting across from me, then I would have launched into a story outlining the perils of sliding on rain-slicked pavement.
But no. It had to be Ash, and so it had to feel weird.
We were good at hate and revenge fucking each other, not talking.
Ash finished his protein bar and crumpled the wrapper but didn’t stand. Instead, he looked me dead in the eyes and did something super annoying. He made small talk.
“You eat before shifts?”
Fuck.
“Sometimes. Depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether I remember.” I shrugged. “You planning my meals now?” I regretted it the moment I said it. Ash was trying, and here I was making everything into a challenge.
“Just wondering if you’re going to pass out on me mid-chase.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course he had to one-up me. “Yeah, that’s never happened.”
“There’s always a first time.” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. The fluorescent lighting made the shadows under his eyes look deeper. At least when he tried again, the question was more manageable.
“What’d you do before this?”
I raised an eyebrow. “We doing get-to-know-you twenty-questions now?”
“It’s better than sitting here in silence.”
He had a point. The alternative was staring at each other while pretending not to, which seemed more uncomfortable than small talk. “Retail. Clothing store at the mall. Hated every second of it.”
“Yeah?” Something shifted in his expression. Curiosity, maybe. “Why?”
“Quotas and upselling and pretending to care if some soccer mom found the right shade of beige? Really not my scene.” I twisted the cap back onto my water bottle. “You?”
“Warehouse work. Loading trucks, inventory management. Boring as hell but paid okay and let me do some budget stunt work when I could get a gig.”
“So we both escaped soul-crushing jobs to scare people for minimum wage twenty-nine nights of the year?” It wasn’t as simple as that, of course.
A month of Halloween work didn’t pay the bills, even taking social media payouts into account, so we all still had our soul-crushing jobs.
It just felt nice to ignore them for the spooky season.
“Living the dream.” His mouth quirked. It was almost a smile, and it was almost attractive.
The vampires erupted in laughter nearby. One of them had apparently spilled fake blood on a guest’s designer purse, causing quite a stir and a social media breakdown. I watched them reenact the scene, their animated gestures throwing shadows across the wall.
Ash’s attention stayed on me. “Did you grow up around here?”
“North side. You?”
“Same, actually. Moved when I was twelve, though. Parents split.” He said it casually, but I caught the tension in his shoulders.
I knew that tension, having lived with it myself. “Mine too. I was eight.”
“Shit.” He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward slightly. “That’s rough.”
Part of me wished we’d had the ‘relationship’ talk instead of this.
“It was what it was.” I peeled at the label on my water bottle. The corner came up in a damp strip. “Dad left, Mom worked three jobs trying to keep things together, then decided trying to date rich was easier. My sister basically raised me until she bailed for college.”
The words came out more easily than they should have.
I didn’t like talking about myself, at least not in the way of childhood trauma and experiences that were best left buried in the past. Maybe it was the noise providing cover.
Maybe it was exhaustion lowering my defenses.
Maybe it was the fact that Ash had offered his own damage first, creating some kind of conversational equilibrium.
“Where’s your sister now?”
“Denver. Married to some tech guy, had two kids. We talk maybe twice a year.” I dropped the torn label onto the table and tried to switch the focus off of myself. “Do you have siblings?”
Why did I ask that like I cared?
“Only child. Got the full weight of their breakup all to myself.” His jaw tightened. “Mom would pump me for information about Dad’s new girlfriend. Dad would badmouth Mom every time I visited. It was fucking exhausting.”
“Yeah. That sounds familiar.”
We sat with that for a moment as the chaos of the room continued around us, but it felt distant now. Like we’d carved out a pocket of quiet in the middle of the noise.
Ash studied my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle. Not the hungry kind. Something different. “Is that why you’re like this?”
“Like what?”
“Keeps everyone at a distance. Acts like nothing matters.”
My throat went tight. He’d cut straight through to the bone with that observation. “Careful. We’re getting into dangerous territory.”
“Just calling it how I see it.”
He just couldn’t fucking help himself. “Yeah, well, your vision might be shit.” I crumpled my own wrapper with more force than necessary. “Besides, you’re not exactly Mr. Openness yourself.”
“Never said I was.” He held my gaze.
That comfortable pocket of space between us had become a cage, walls closing in with every word that stripped away another layer of protection. Dylan had done this too. Drawn-out confessions made me feel safe enough to bleed truth, then used every wound against me when things went south.
I stood up, my chair scraping against the linoleum. “Break’s almost over.”
Ash’s expression morphed into a frown. “We still have five minutes.”
“Yeah, well, I need to fix my face.” It was a lie; I’d clearly done that before coming in here and sitting down.
“Jude...”
I left him sitting there and pushed through the crowd toward the door. It had started raining while we’d been in there. Only a light drizzle, but enough to keep me stuck in one spot. I stood under the overhang and let the cool air hit my face, trying to settle the riot in my chest.
Ash was right. Of course, he was right. The broken home, the revolving door of my mom’s boyfriends, watching my sister pack her bags the day after graduation and never look back. All of it taught me the same lesson: don’t get attached. Don’t ever need anyone.
Don’t give them the power to leave.
It was far better to keep it physical. Keep it simple. Keep it from meaning anything.
Behind me, the door opened, and I heard Ash’s footsteps.
He just couldn’t leave it the fuck alone. I was ready to turn on him and give him a piece of my mind, but he beat me to it.
“I didn’t mean to push,” he said.
“Yeah, you did.” He didn’t get to back down that easily. Ash had known what he was doing—trying to get under my skin and get me to open up—so like hell was I going to let him sweep it under the rug.
He moved to stand beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touched, but he didn’t make any other move. I wasn’t sure whether that drove me nuts or made me feel better.
I wanted to explode at him. Better yet, I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to—
“I’m sorry,” he said, severing my thought process. The asshole sounded like he really meant it. “I went too far. I’m just good at pushing your buttons—kinda my specialty, I guess. But I should have stopped.”
I chuckled despite myself. “No argument there.”
We stood there in the drizzle, not quite touching. The pause stretched between us, but it felt different than usual. Less like waiting for the next fight to start. Less like bracing for impact.
Part of me wanted to bolt, to put distance between us before this went anywhere I couldn’t take back. But a bigger part—the part I kept trying to ignore—wanted to stay right here, shoulder to shoulder with someone who seemed to actually see me instead of just the performance I put on every night.
It scared the shit out of me.
“Come on,” I said eventually. “Parker’s going to have our asses if we’re late.”
“Can’t have that.” Ash pushed off the wall, running a hand through his hair. The undercut was already halfway fucked, the longer strands on top sticking up at odd angles from the humidity. Whatever gel he’d used earlier had given up the fight.
Without thinking, I reached up and smoothed it down. My fingers caught on the damp texture, remembering how it had felt gripped in my fist; how many times I’d wrecked it this past week and watched him try to fix it afterward, that little furrow between his eyebrows as he checked his reflection.
His eyes widened slightly.
I dropped my hand and walked away before either of us could make it into something it wasn’t.