Chapter 24 Ash
ASH
The hotel hallway stretches before me, dimly lit by the warm glow of Christmas garland wrapped around vintage-style sconces.
Each door bears a festive wreath, and the faint scent of pine mingles with the sterile hotel air.
My feet carry me toward my room on autopilot.
That’s when I see her.
Tish stands outside Jake’s door, her silhouette unmistakable even in the muted lighting.
Her dark hair cascades over her shoulders, and she’s wearing that black dress that hugs her curves in all the right places.
Jake is right beside her.
I watch, dread filling every inch of me, as Jake opens the door. Tish only hesitates a moment before stepping inside.
The door clicks shut behind them with a finality that hits me like a punch to the gut.
Rational thought tells me this is all part of the plan.
The fake dating scheme we cooked up to salvage Jake’s reputation after his latest scandal.
But rationality doesn’t stop the jealousy from clawing at my chest like a wild animal.
The knowledge that it’s all pretend doesn’t make the image of them disappearing into his room together any easier to swallow.
My hands clench into fists at my sides. The Christmas music drifting from the hotel lobby below sounds mocking now, all jingle bells and holiday cheer while my world tilts sideways.
Every instinct screams at me to march over there and pound on that door, to demand answers, to pull her away from him.
But what right do I have? She’s not mine. Not really.
Sure, there’s been tension between us, moments where the air crackles with something electric, but we’ve never finished crossing that line.
She’s my best friend’s sister, off-limits in every way that matters.
The hallway feels suffocating suddenly. The twinkling lights on the garland blur as I force myself to keep walking, each step heavier than the last.
My room key card trembles in my hand as I slide it into the lock. The green light blinks, and I push inside, letting the door slam behind me.
The room is decorated with the same holiday touches as the rest of the hotel.
A small Christmas tree in the corner, red and gold ribbons tied around the curtain rods, a bowl of peppermint candies on the nightstand. It all feels like a cruel joke.
Sleep doesn’t come easy. Every time I close my eyes, images flood my mind – Tish’s laugh as Jake whispered something in her ear at the club earlier, the way she looked up at him with those dark eyes, the graceful way she moved in that dress.
The rational part of my brain keeps reminding me it’s all an act, but the jealous, possessive part doesn’t care about logic.
The sheets tangle around my legs as I toss and turn. The digital clock on the nightstand mocks me with its slow progression through the night. Each minute crawls by like an hour.
By the time pale winter sunlight filters through the heavy curtains, exhaustion weighs on me like a lead blanket.
The Christmas tree lights in the corner have been blinking all night, casting dancing shadows on the walls that did nothing to help my restless mind.
Coffee. That’s what I need.
And maybe I need to check on Tish.
Make sure she’s okay.
The protective instinct that’s been part of me since the day Trent first brought her around kicks into overdrive.
It doesn’t matter that she’s a grown woman perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
It doesn’t matter that Jake would never hurt her.
The need to see her, to make sure she’s safe, overrides everything else.
The hotel hallway looks different in the morning light streaming through the windows at each end.
The Christmas decorations seem cheerier somehow, less ominous than they did in the dim lighting last night. My feet carry me to her door before I can second-guess myself.
Three soft knocks. That’s all it takes.
When the door opens, every protective instinct I possess roars to life. Tish stands there in an oversized sweater and leggings, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, but it’s her eyes that stop me cold.
They’re wide, almost startled, and there’s something there. Fear? Anxiety? Whatever it is, it sets every nerve on high alert.
“Ash?” Her voice comes out smaller than usual, and that’s all the confirmation I need that something’s wrong.
“What happened?” The words come out rougher than I intended, but the sight of her looking so shaken has my jaw clenched tight. “Did Jake—I swear to God, if he took advantage of you, I’ll kill him.”
“No!” She shakes her head quickly, stepping back to let me into the room. “It’s nothing like that. Jake was…he was perfect. A complete gentleman.”
The relief that floods through me is almost embarrassing in its intensity, but it’s quickly replaced by concern.
If it wasn’t Jake, then what has her looking like she’s seen a ghost?
“Then what’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing, because I can see it written all over your face.”
She glances toward the adjoining door that connects the main room to the one where Becky’s sleeping. “I can’t talk about it now. Not with Becky so close. She might hear.”
The protective mama bear instinct kicks in, and I nod. “Okay. Let’s get her to the childcare, then we’ll talk.”
Watching Tish with her daughter never fails to do something to my chest.
The gentle way she wakes Becky up, how she helps her get dressed in a red sweater with a reindeer on it, the patient way she brushes the little girl’s hair.
There’s something so fundamentally right about seeing her in mom mode that it makes my heart ache.
The hotel’s childcare center is decorated like a winter wonderland, complete with paper snowflakes hanging from the ceiling and a small Christmas tree surrounded by wrapped boxes that are probably empty but look magical to little eyes.
Becky runs off to join the other kids without a backward glance, already distracted by the toys and activities.
“She’ll be fine,” Tish murmurs, but there’s tension in her shoulders that wasn’t there yesterday.
The hotel cafeteria buzzes with the quiet chatter of early morning guests.
Christmas music plays softly in the background, and the smell of coffee mingles with cinnamon rolls and bacon.
We find a corner table away from the other patrons, and I wait until Tish has wrapped her hands around her coffee mug before pressing for answers.
“Okay, we’re alone now. Talk to me.”
She takes a shaky sip of her coffee, and when she looks up at me, those dark eyes are filled with something that makes my stomach drop. “Someone’s been watching us, Ash. Taking pictures.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. “What kind of pictures?”
“The kind that could ruin everything.” Her voice drops to barely above a whisper. “Someone put them in an envelope under my door this morning. Photos of us together—you and me, Jake and me. Intimate moments that were supposed to be private.”
Rage builds in my chest, hot and fierce. “Show me.”
She pulls out her phone with trembling fingers. “I didn’t want to bring the originals, but I took images of them.” She slides her phone across the table, and what I see makes my blood run cold.
The photos are grainy but clear enough. Tish and me kissing by the broken-down bus. Her and Jake laughing together at the club.
“Son of a bitch.” The words come out as a growl, and several nearby diners glance our way. I lower my voice but can’t contain the fury. “Who sent these?”
“Unknown number. But Ash, there’s more.” She swipes to the next image, and my heart stops. It’s a photo of her in her hotel room, taken through the window. She’s in pajamas, completely unaware she’s being watched.
The protective rage that floods through me is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Someone violated her privacy, made her feel unsafe, and every instinct I have screams for blood.
“This is connected to everything else that’s been happening,” I say, my mind racing. “The sabotage, the equipment going missing, the bus breaking down. Someone’s targeting the team, and now they’re targeting you.”
“But why me? I’m just the PR person.”
“Because you matter to us. To me, to Jake, to Carl. Whoever’s doing this knows that hurting you hurts us.” The admission slips out before I can stop it, and her eyes widen slightly.
She reaches across the table, her fingers brushing mine.
The contact sends electricity shooting up my arm. “What if it’s not about the team at all? What if it’s personal? Jake has a lot of…admirers. What if one of them thinks we’re really together and they’re jealous?”
The thought hadn’t occurred to me, but it makes sense.
Jake’s reputation with women is legendary, and not all of his past encounters have ended amicably. “It’s possible. But this feels bigger than a jealous ex-girlfriend.”
“There’s something else.” Her voice drops even lower, and she glances around the cafeteria nervously. “I think Trent is getting suspicious about us. About all of us.”
The bottom drops out of my stomach.
Trent—her brother, my best friend, the one person whose opinion matters more than anyone else’s. If he’s starting to piece things together, if he realizes how I feel about his sister…
“What makes you think that?”
“Little things. The way he looks at me when you’re around. Questions about why I’m spending so much time with the team. Last night he asked me point-blank if there was something going on between Jake and me that wasn’t part of the PR plan.”
The coffee turns bitter in my mouth.
Trent has always been protective of Tish, but if he suspects that his best friend has feelings for his sister—feelings that go way beyond friendship—it could destroy everything.
Our friendship, my place on the team, the fragile balance we’ve all been trying to maintain.
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth. That Jake and I are just friends, that it’s all for show.” She pauses, her eyes meeting mine across the table. “But I don’t think he believed me. And Ash, if he starts digging deeper, if he finds out about these pictures…”
She doesn’t need to finish the sentence.
We both know what it would mean.
Trent would lose his mind, and rightfully so.
His little sister being stalked, photographed without her consent, potentially put in danger because of her association with the team, with us.
The Christmas music playing overhead seems to mock the gravity of our situation.
Here we are, surrounded by holiday cheer and twinkling lights, while someone out there is watching, waiting, planning their next move.
“We need to tell Carl,” I say finally. “And we need to figure out who’s behind this before it gets worse.”
“And Trent?”
The question hangs between us like a loaded gun. Because the truth is, we can’t keep this from him much longer.
He’s too smart, too protective, and too invested in his sister’s wellbeing to be kept in the dark.
But telling him means risking everything—our friendship, the team’s stability, and any chance I might have had with the woman sitting across from me.
“I think,” Tish says quietly, her fingers still touching mine, “that my brother already knows more than he’s letting on.”