22. brooks
twenty-two
brooks
. . .
Selfish - Jordan Davis
It’s been three days since I’ve seen Ashton.
Ten since the night that might very well go down in history as the best of my life. The best night. The best sex. The single greatest moment.
For a long time, I thought the greatest moment of my life would be sinking into the woman I love.
Being inside her, having her surround me in every conceivable way.
For a long time, I thought it would be reaching that point of ecstasy with her.
Freefalling over a cliff edge, bound together, with no one to catch us but each other.
I was wrong.
The single greatest moment of my life? Holding Ashton Tanner. No more barriers between us: not clothing, not physical space, just skin on skin, with her burrowing into the space between my neck and my shoulder like she was made to fit.
I’ve been around her almost my whole life.
I was four years old when she was born, and she and I grew up side by side.
There’s nothing about me she hasn’t seen, nothing she doesn’t know.
Except for the fact that, now I come to think about it, I might have been in love with her all along.
Ashton Faith Tanner has always been my undoing.
This is bad.
This is very fucking bad.
A few years back, Friday nights were exclusively reserved for the boys.
None of us ever made other plans, unless all three of us were involved in them.
But then we got a little older. Everett became more involved in running the ranch.
Jody had a girlfriend for a little while. And now, Ev is a married man.
All that to say, we don’t always get our Friday nights anymore.
But this week, Ruth has invited Ash, Talia, and Ellison over for a little dinner party, and Ev decided it was in his best interest to leave them to it, so he, Jody, and I are all at Jody’s place.
Jody’s cabin isn’t entirely dissimilar to mine.
It was built before he was born, and it sits nestled in a small cluster of towering cedar elms between the Fishers’ private stable block and his parents’ house.
His cabin has a wraparound porch with a top-of-the-line grill, rustic wooden furniture, and a retractable projector screen against the back wall so he can sit out and watch movies at night.
Tonight, though, it’s just a little Jenner Dunn playing quietly through Jody’s Bluetooth sound system as Ev and I pop open beer cans in perfect synchronicity. We grin as we knock them together. Jody plops down on the bench seat opposite us and kicks his feet up onto the low table.
“Bottoms up, boys,” he says with a grin, cracking his own can open and tipping it back.
“Been a while, huh?” Everett muses. He turns to me, nudging my knee with his. “What’s this I hear about you and my sister and lunch in town?”
For the briefest moment, I only hear the first half of his sentence.
Fear pricks at my skin; every inch of me simultaneously on fire and ice cold.
I worry someone must have seen or heard us somehow, although everyone on the ranch knows we’ve been friends since we were kids and that it’s not unusual for us to spend time at each other’s homes.
I’m afraid someone might have seen the message she sent me this morning: barely clothed; faceless, recognisable by her colorful tattoos.
I rub my arm right over the devil woman tattoo that spans most of the length between my elbow and wrist. It forms part of an intricate sleeve, but it’s easily the largest single piece on my right arm.
When Clay Murphy included a woman with horns in the sleeve he designed for me, it felt like fate.
It’s not something I would’ve come up with for myself, but it’s perfect.
He gave me two options, and I chose this one.
It felt right then and it still does now, to have a direct reference to Ashton—my little devil—on my skin.
I’ve never said it out loud, but I’ve always thought of the tattoo as being hers.
And I’ve always thought of her as being mine.
“Earth to Brooks,” Jody calls. He flicks a tortilla chip at me. I shake myself from a daydream.
“Hmm?”
“You. Ash. Lunch,” Everett repeats his question in cliff notes form.
“Oh. She took EJ riding. I met ‘em at the stables after, thought I’d take ‘em out for lunch. Went to Miss Celia’s.”
“Cute,” Jody says. “How is Miss Celia?”
“Same as always,” I answer, relaxing into the couch cushions. Crisis averted—at least for now. “Must be close to seventy by now, but don’t look like she’s aged at all since we were kids.”
“She’s seventy-eight,” Ev says. My brow furrows. “Heard Mom talkin’ with Ms. Angie. Diner’s gettin’ busier, too. Miss Celia just don’t stop. Must have a portrait in the attic or somethin’.”
“A what?” Jody looks puzzled. He glances over at the grill which is smoking nicely.
“A portrait,” I say. “Like Dorian Gray?”
“Who’s that?” Jody adjusts the legs of his jeans as he stands, stretches, and strolls to the grill.
With his beer still in one hand, he uses tongs in the other to pick up a steak and rest it lightly on the rack.
It sizzles, and he places it perfectly before doing the same with the next two slabs of meat.
“He’s a—you know what? Never mind,” Ev says with a chuckle and a shake of his head. “He’s a guy who don’t age.”
“Huh,” Jody says with a shrug. He plops six large shrimp on the grill, one by one, and takes another long mouthful of his beer. “Speaking of guys who don’t age, when are we celebrating the wedding we weren’t invited to?”
Everett grumbles as Jody flips each shrimp and steak in turn.
“We really don’t need to,” he says.
“We absolutely do,” I argue. “We need a night to go out and celebrate.”
“Ruth’s going back to London soon. She’ll be gone for a couple months.”
“So, we make it a boys’ night. Like tonight, only with more alcohol. Maybe a bar or two.”
“Hit sixth street,” Jody agrees. Guess we’re going out in the city, then. Those nights are always fun. “Okay. Y’all grab a plate, these steaks are almost done.”
The three of us take turns to serve ourselves steaks and foil-wrapped baked potatoes.
The potatoes have been on the grill for an hour, and a little before the steaks went on, Jody added butter, cheese, and bacon to load them up.
You can say what you want about us, but our moms made damn sure all three of us could cook a damn decent meal, and we all load up our plates before sitting around the table again, all behind our own little clouds of steam as we tuck in.
For several minutes, the only sound is the clicking of cutlery on plates and Mother Nature at night, interspersed with the occasional moan and “hot damn” as we devour our steak and potatoes.
“Been a long time since I ate shrimp,” I say between mouthfuls. “I ain’t ever buy them for myself, and Harriet don’t cook shellfish for any meals at the main house.”
“I hadn’t eaten it for years before Ruth moved in,” Ev agrees. “I don’t think Mom and Dad really eat it at home anymore, neither. Ain’t nothin’ quite like surf n’ turf, though.”
We never do make concrete plans for a night out in Austin, but when I leave, we agree that next Friday, we’ll head into town and hit up Tell’s Tavern. I pull out my phone as I climb into my truck to find a message waiting for me.
Ashton
come over when you’re done w boys night?
The message alone is enough to bring a smile to my face.
If it were anyone else, it would be disgusting—sappy and ridiculous—but it’s not someone else.
It’s me, and it’s Ashton. And it’s all I’ve wanted for almost a damn decade.
I’m about to respond, thumbs poised to begin typing, when a second message shows up and a laugh that sounds more like a snort escapes me.
Ashton
miss you(r cock)
gotta head home first n brush teeth
ate shrimps
Ashton
no kisses for you :(
did you know shellfish proteins can remain in saliva for up to 16 hours?
We’ll have to take a rain check on those kisses, devil girl
I take a shortcut between the Tanner Ranch and the Fishers’ land—one that would have Mama Tanner shaking her head and clucking her tongue if she knew about it—determined to get to Ashton as quickly as possible.
If we don’t have a lot of time, if whatever is between us has an expiry date, then I don’t want to waste a single second.
I brush my teeth twice when I get home just in case—I don’t even want to breathe shellfish near her—and rinse twice more with mouthwash, before grabbing a package of microwave popcorn.
I know I just ate, but I’m a growing boy. And there’s always room for popcorn.
There’s no reason for me to tiptoe toward Ashton’s cabin with my head on a swivel, looking out for anyone who might see me.
To anyone on the ranch, Ashton and I are close friends.
We always have been. It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that she and I might be visiting each other’s homes of an evening and spending time together.
I know for a fact Jody was at her place a couple afternoons ago.
Still, I’m cautious as I approach the front door, which opens before I can even knock.
“Hi,” Ashton says shyly. She’s never been shy a day in her life, but she bites her lip as she smiles up at me and my heart could burst right out of my chest. She’s so fucking beautiful, and I don’t know how it’s never struck me before.
She’s always been pretty, but now she’s grown, she’s absolutely stunning.
“C’mere,” I say, opening my arms. If I can’t kiss her tonight, this is the next best thing.
She falls into me, wrapping her arms around my torso, and I hold her tight.
One hand threaded into her hair, damp from a shower, and the other wrapped around her back.
I hold her as close as I can get her, although it’s not close enough.
I’d crawl into her skin if I could, I’d meld us into one being.
That’s a little creepy. Maybe I’ll just settle for holding her.
“Is that popcorn in your pocket, or are you just really bizarrely-shaped tonight?” Ashton asks.
The popcorn in my jeans pocket shifts as she drops one hand to feel it, then pulls it out triumphantly.
She skips to the kitchen and I follow obediently, sitting on a bar stool as she prepares the popcorn in the microwave and pours it into a yellow mixing bowl.
“Wanna pick a shitty movie and hang out?” she offers. She leads me to the couch.
Half an hour later, I have no idea what we’re watching.
There’s a detective and some animals, but I’m far too busy hanging on to every word Ashton says, hypnotised by the extended line of her throat as she throws her head back in laughter.
She’s talking about one of her chef mentors in New York, and the stories he shared from one of his many restaurants—including the sous chef who repeatedly sabotaged dishes with too much chilli or salt instead of sugar, and somehow managed to evade being caught for nearly six months.
Out of nowhere, her Grandaddy Smith’s voice bursts into my head and I bite back a chuckle.
It comes out a little more like a snort and Ashton looks at me questioningly.
“I just had a thought,” I explain. “You know what Grandaddy Smith woulda said?”
“The Lord makes all kinds?” Ashton tries. I laugh again.
“Well, yeah. But he woulda said some people ain’t blessings, they’re lessons.”
“He ain’t wrong.” Ashton smirks.
“Rarely was.” I shift a little, pulling Ashton deeper into my embrace and exhaling a long, slow breath. “I don’t know what kinda lesson that chef was. But I sure do miss Grandaddy.”
“Me too,” she sighs. “Sometimes I forget it ain’t just us who lost him. It’s all of us. Everyone on this ranch knew him, everyone worked for him. Loved him. Right up til the end.”
“He’d be proud of you, you know?” I tilt my head to look right at her. Sorrow clouds her features and my stomach clenches. “Doin’ so well in New York. He’d be so proud.”
“I’m glad he got to see me go,” she whispers. “Even if he ain’t here to see me come home.”
“Used to ride around tellin’ everyone what cookies you shipped home,” I say with a laugh. “Lordin’ it over everyone that he had cookies straight from the hands of famous pastry chef Ashton Tanner. You were his pride and joy.”
“Mom was his pride and joy,” Ashton corrects. The soft smile on her face is so much like her mother’s as she remembers her grandfather. “Then the ranch. Then Ev and me.”
“You and Ev are definitely above the ranch,” I say. “Maybe his truck would be on that list, too.”
“He did love that truck,” Ashton agrees. “Tansy, too. Okay, Mom is definitely number one. His baby girl. Then Tansy, his other baby girl. Me and Ev, the ranch, the truck… we’ll share third place. I can come third to Mom and Tansy, I guess.”
“You’ll be number one on my list.” I kiss her forehead and she grins. “Proudest thing I ever did was get my head out of my ass and be with you.”
Ashton looks at me with a big, beaming smile and I kiss her forehead one more time. She is the proudest and most precious thing in my life, and I spent so long not even knowing that everything I wanted was right in front of me. But now that I know? I ain’t letting her go.