CHAPTER THIRTY
Kaia
Ipressed my lips to the back of Asher’s neck and closed my eyes, listening to his soft breaths. The sun had risen barely fifteen minutes ago, and it hurt to wake him when he hadn’t been sleeping well.
My fingertips traced over his bare shoulders, sliding down to his shoulder blades, drawing idle patterns on his warm skin.
He kept sleeping, so I gently bit his neck, then skimmed my palm down his spine, across his ribs, and over the ridges of his stomach.
My nails grazed his abs, and he stirred, mumbling something incoherent as his hand found my hip and squeezed. “Peque.”
“You asked me to wake you,” I whispered, pressing a trail of kisses to his skin. “It’s six-thirty.”
Ash sighed. “Mierda.”
He rolled to face me, his tired brown eyes locking on mine. “The results go up today, right, mi nina?”
I wished he hadn’t asked, but worry gnawed at him, and I couldn’t blame him. “Yeah.”
“Come here.”
He pulled me against his chest, and I wrapped my arms around his waist as his hand skimmed my back.
“They don’t mean shit, okay?” he murmured, kissing my hair.
“It’s like a training lap. I might suck and be slow, but then I finish first when it matters.
If it’s not the score you want, you’ll retake it. ”
“Thank you.”
Asher traced the curve of my ear with his fingertips. “For what?”
“For being you.”
He tried to smile, but it faltered. Since he’d paid Ethan, his smiles had been scarce. He still won every race, but the spark was gone. Each time he mentioned Alejandro, my heart tripped, afraid one day he’d tell me his agent had found him a new team far away.
It was irrational, but he wasn’t happy—and I’d never ask him to stay if leaving meant finding peace.
As if sensing the turn of my thoughts, Asher caught my mouth with his. I parted for him, dizzy from his scent and touch. He cupped my behind, pulling me closer, and I tangled my fingers in his hair as he kissed me like it was the last kiss he’d ever give me.
“I hate this.” His lips dragged wetly along my jaw to my neck. “Hate leaving.” He sucked at my skin, just enough to make me ache, careful not to leave a mark.
“But you have to. If not, you’ll be late,” I breathed as his tongue traced down to my collarbone.
His hands roamed, igniting every nerve. “It’s just training, peque. I can’t wait for this season to be over.”
My alarm blared again. I silenced it, and Asher kissed my forehead before sliding out of bed. We risked everything each time he slept in my room—or I in his—but neither of us could stop.
I lay on my side, admiring the sculpted lines of his back and long legs as he grabbed his tee and sweats. At the door, he paused, then came back. “What?” I giggled as he leaned over me, brushing hair from my face.
“Te quiero. Text me when you get the results, okay?”
I’d never get used to him saying he loved me. “Yo a ti,” I whispered. “I will. Be careful on the track.”
Ash brushed a kiss across my lips. “Always.”
When the soft thud of his footsteps faded down the hall, I slipped from beneath the covers and got ready for school, fighting not to let the nerves about my results ruin the day before it even began.
***
I scored a little over eight hundred on the PSAT, and all I felt was fear.
Fear that my father would be furious. Fear he’d ground me. Fear he’d call me, again, a disappointment—that other people my age had their priorities straight while I let laziness destroy my future.
After school, I sat on my bed with my diary. Writing helped, but Dad would want to talk the moment he got home, and there was no way that conversation would end well.
“Kaia!” His voice cracked through the hall. The door swung open without a knock. His gray suit filled the doorway, his cold stare pinning me in place. “Come to my office. We need to talk.”
My knees weakened, every step unsteady as I trailed after him.
He opened his office door and gestured to a chair. “Sit.”
I lowered into it while he sank into his leather chair and laced his hands on the desk. The scene felt like something out of a movie—an employee being fired and told to pack up and leave. Except this wasn’t a boss. This was my father. So why was I terrified?
“I’m disappointed,” Dad said flatly. “You had months to study, but your results prove you didn’t make even the smallest effort despite knowing how important this test is. So, I’ve made a few decisions.”
I’d done everything I could. It was never enough for him.
He pulled an emerald-green folder from a stack of documents and slid it across the desk. “Read this.”
The elegant cursive on the cover read Willowbrook School for Girls. I opened it. An old stone building—like the ones I’d seen in Europe when Mom was still alive—stared back from the glossy photo. The caption said it was in Oakwood Springs, a town I’d never even heard of.
“It’s an exclusive boarding school for girls,” Dad explained. “They specialize in college prep. Classes are small, and the teachers are experienced. You’ll live there and come home some weekends. It’s six hours from Stetbourg, so weekly travel isn’t practical, but once or twice a month will work.”
The glossy pages seared my fingers. He was sending me away? My heart pounded against my throat. “No.” I snapped the folder shut and shoved it back across the table. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m an adult. You can’t make me.”
Dad’s shoulders rose and fell beneath his tailored jacket.
“You live under my roof, which means you answer to me. I’ve put up with too much for too long, and I won’t tolerate your disrespect any longer.
They expect you in June. Given your less-than-stellar results, you’ll also attend their summer SAT prep camp. ”
My chest ached, every breath strangled. June? Only two months away. He wanted me to leave home. To leave dancing. To leave Ash. He was taking everything I loved.
“No, Dad. Please, don’t do this.” My voice thinned to a whisper as tears streamed down my cheeks, but his face stayed impassive. Indifferent. Cold.
“Every action has consequences. I did everything I could to help you without taking drastic measures, but you took advantage of my trust.”
Blood roared in my ears. “You did nothing! You refused to pay for a tutor, and now you’re just sending me away?” I snatched up the folder and hurled it across the room. “You don’t love me! You never have! Mom would’ve never done this to me!”
He crossed the room in a few confident strides and picked up the folder.
“Your mother is dead. And if you’d gone to your sessions with Dr. White, you would’ve accepted it by now instead of using her death as an excuse to throw tantrums like a petulant child.
But you skipped therapy, Kaia—and lied about it too.
Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? ”
I choked on a sob. “I hate you.”
Dad handed me the folder. “That’s fine. I’m your father, not your friend. I’ve been warned parenting is a thankless job.”
He marched to the door and held it open. I bolted past him without looking back. In my room, I tossed the glossy leaflets of my future prison onto the bed, grabbed my backpack and a jacket, and fled downstairs and out of the house.
Anger and heartbreak slid down my cheeks in the shape of tears as I called a cab.
It had been too long since I visited Mom, but Stetbourg Memorial Park was the only place I wanted to be.