Chapter 18 #3
“You’re wrong, babe,” Ash said, brushing wisps of hair from her face. “When I hold you, I know exactly where I belong. You’re in my heart. In my soul. You’re in the very air I breathe. Don’t leave.”
How could she respond to his poignant plea?
Time and distance. Time to sort things out, and distance to clear her head.
She’d narrowly missed an engagement to Spencer, and she wasn’t ready to stay in a marriage with Ash.
Ash’s passion and his desperation to hold on had her heart breaking.
Splintering from the inside out, she craved every promise he’d uttered.
For that reason, she had to free herself from the madness because it was foolish and irrational to continue.
Like oil and water, his famous life and her quiet existence did not mix.
Tension tightened the creases at the corners of his beautiful eyes.
Or was it fear? Perhaps he sensed her imminent flight.
The cords of his muscles stood out on his neck, marring the perfection of his tattoo.
The dragon’s talons stretched on the bloody web, caught forever between flight and freedom.
Was that what the tattoo meant to him? Had she discovered its meaning on her own?
No matter how much it hurt, it was time to end their adventure.
“Mr. Tuttle is right,” she said with a sigh. “We need to think this through.”
A desperate need for her brother’s strength had her fighting back a flood of tears.
Ash did that thing with his lips. The thin line of determination challenged her with absolute assurance. His shoulders rolled back, and he stretched to his full height, staring down with his jaw clenched tight. His gaze lingered on her lips and then skittered away.
“You’re wrong, babe. You know it, too. But I can’t make you stay.” He took a step back, releasing her from his grip. “I’m willing to give you space, but I won’t give up on us. Someday, you’ll realize how hard this was for me to do.”
His fingers curled and then he shook them out. Despondency rolled off him in waves, leaving her reeling.
She rubbed at the ache flaring in her chest.
This was it—the end.
“At the very least, let me take you home.” His hand opened and closed, grasping at the air and what was remaining of the shreds of time left to them.
But more time in his presence would open her up to changing her mind. Neither of them could afford that.
“I can take care of myself.”
His eyes closed and then slowly opened. “I get that.” He cleared his throat and took a step toward her, his hand stretching out, urging her to take it. “Don’t let it end like this.”
She didn’t trust herself to speak.
Their eyes met, stretched over an impassable gulf even though only a few feet separated them. He held her in a moment of indecision.
Shaking her head, she pivoted and headed for the terminal.
A knife twisted in her chest. She lurched to a stop and turned, expecting him to follow. Instead, Ash’s friends clustered around him, dragging him back toward the plane.
She ran for the sheltering warmth of the terminal. The automatic doors slid open and closed behind her with a hiss of finality. With a swipe to the corners of her eyes, she brushed away the stream of tears.
The employee who tended the hospitality desk looked up as she stumbled to a stop. “Ma’am?” He wiped down his counter. “Can I help you?”
She squared her shoulders. The thick lump in her throat disappeared after three strong swallows. “How do I get to the commercial passenger terminal?”
He picked up a phone and dialed. “Our concierge service will be here shortly. Is there anything else I can help you with?” His eyes darted to the door, to the jet she was not climbing aboard.
“Can you book a ticket?”
A blue glow lit his face as he woke up a sleeping computer screen hidden beneath the counter. “Yes, ma’am. Where would you like to go?”
“Washington National, please.”
She splayed her fingers over the warm wood of the counter while the tapping of his fingers over the keys filled the uncomfortable silence.
“There’s a flight leaving in two hours.”
“Perfect.”
More finger tapping. “Do you have a seat preference?”
“Window.” She unslung her backpack and pulled out her wallet. “How much?”
“Angel Fire’s account will cover the cost.” A printer spit out paper, and he handed her the itinerary.
The door behind opened, bringing with it a gust of chilly air.
Her heart soared. Could it be?
With a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, she pivoted. Then, her heart came crashing back to earth. It was Sam, the bodyguard.
With a grimace, she turned back to the counter and glanced at the itinerary, noticing the first-class seat assignment.
Sam cleared his throat. “Miss, Mr. Dean asks that you join him on the plane.”
“He sent you? Where is he?”
“On the plane, waiting.”
A black sedan pulled up outside.
“You can tell Blaze that I’m not getting on that plane.”
Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she marched out, heading away from Ash and toward the sedan.
A few hours ago, Ash would have come for her himself. A few minutes surrounded by his band, and he’d become Blaze, the rock star who sent lackeys to do his work for him. She missed the man who shopped in secondhand stores.
Deep in her broken heart, she knew she’d made the right choice.
She slipped into the waiting car and shut the door.
The driver looked into the rearview mirror. “Which airline?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She wasn’t getting on a plane—at least not one at this airport. She didn’t want Ash to track her down because she sensed he might.
She thumbed on her phone and composed a simple text.
Forest! I need you!
She didn’t need her little brother. She needed the man the scrawny boy had become.
His text came back.
Can you make it to LAX?
Yes!
On my way!
Somehow, someway, Forest would be there.