Chapter Twenty #4
“No,” I tell him adamantly. “I’m not sure I need one.
I think I’ve heard all there is to. I get it, Ashton.
Your brother royally screwed you. He screwed all of us.
But I don’t need you picking up the pieces for me.
Neither does my sister. We are more than capable of doing it ourselves.
We’ve been doing it for years, no matter how hard it’s been.
Even the thought of someone who knows Adam trying to make up for his mistakes is…
” I shiver, and nausea creeps up my throat.
“It makes me sick to my stomach. Blood money or not, it’s all the same.
And I don’t want you, nor do I need you, in my life.
I want nothing to do with you or your family or their handouts. ”
Color comes back to his face, but barely. “I understand,” he says quietly.
I hope he does, because I’m not sure I have the energy left to get him to. “From here on out, I want privacy. I want to be removed from whatever vocabulary you use. I’m not your responsibility or your problem, and I’m sure as hell not your brother’s.”
Thomas’s hand presses harder against the skin on my back in comfort.
Ashton clears his throat. “Okay,” he agrees, nodding once. His eyes go from me to Thomas, then down to where his client’s hand is touching me. “But I have one thing to say, and it’s important.”
I can feel Thomas’s fingers flex.
“Whatever this is,” he tells me, gesturing toward Thomas and me, “is not going to end well. You, of all people, know the circumstances of who Tom is and what he brings to the table. I don’t need to remind you about his wife or the very public life he has.
All I’m saying is that if you want privacy, you won’t get it if you’re seen with him. ”
It’s not a threat or warning. His tone is cautious yet calm, simply delivering a message woven in truth. Because, despite what I’m asking him, he still feels guilty. He still cares enough to make sure I don’t make mistakes.
But it would be my mistake to make.
Thomas says, “Ashton,” in a low tone.
His manager raises his palms. “You and I both know I’m right, Tom.”
He takes a step back and looks at me with a softer expression. “For whatever it’s worth, I am sorry for what happened. For all of it. I know that doesn’t change a damn thing, but it’s still worth being said.”
That’s all he says before walking to the door, stepping on a cat toy that squeaks under his shoe. It gives him pause, making him frown.
Before he can ask Thomas why he has cat toys in his house, the man beside me says, “We’ll talk later,” in dismissal.
Ashton looks like he wants to say something, but shakes his head and chooses not to. He leaves us, not looking back as he closes the door behind him.
I stare down at Oreo’s mouse toys.
Thomas asks, “Are you all right?”
I peek up at him through my lashes. “No.”
All he does is nod, pulling me in for a hug and resting his chin on the top of my head. He doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t try to make it better. Doesn’t press me for how I’m feeling.
We stand like that in silence for a long time.
My arms fold around his waist and stay there, not tight or loose. I soak in the warmth and hard muscle under his clothes and rest my cheek against his pecks. Closing my eyes, I breathe him in and find myself relaxing for the first time since the Uber dropped me off.
I break the silence first. “He’s right,” I say, hating how the words taste on my tongue.
“If there’s anything I want more than peace of mind and independence, it’s privacy.
And I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.
I don’t know why this is so…” My arms tense before dropping back down to my sides, and I take a step back to put distance between us.
“I don’t know why I’m doing this. I know I don’t have a lot to lose, but the thought of losing what little I do have to my name… ”
My pride. My job. My independence, no matter how limited it is.
His eyebrow twitches, but he doesn’t make a point to tell me I’m overreacting. After all, he’s the married one. Not me. No number of excuses he could make would make that okay if it comes out to the public.
“I got what I needed,” I tell him hoarsely, clearing my throat. “So, I should go.”
He stops me from walking away, and I stare at his fingers wrapped around my wrist. “I’ll drive you.”
“I can—”
“I know,” he cuts me off. “But I want to drive you.”
That’s not what he’s saying at all. He needs to make sure I’m okay because he knows that I’m not.
So, I follow him to his garage in silence.
I let him open my door for me in silence.
And I let him go as far as buckle me in.
All silently.
His knuckles barely brush against me as the seat belt clicks into place, but my heart reacts as if we were naked all over again.
I swallow as his eyes meet mine.
His Adam’s apple bobs.
I take a deep breath…and watch him pull away as he closes the door and rounds the front of the car.
We don’t speak on the short drive to my apartment, or when he puts the car into park at the curb in front of my building.
I try to force myself to speak up, but nothing comes out.
He reaches over and grabs my hand, squeezing it once in acknowledgment. As if he’s saying “I got you” without saying it at all.
“I was in some shitty foster homes when I was a kid,” Thomas says, voice lighter than usual.
Distant, but present at the same time. “But I didn’t hate it, because it meant I got to escape the people who made my life miserable.
I didn’t know what it was like to be in a happy household.
I didn’t know what it was like to be loved. Not until I met Emaly.”
He’d told me that before, when I admitted I didn’t think I was capable of love. Why is he bringing it up again?
I don’t say anything. Don’t ask.
Because part of me is afraid to.
He leans against his seat and stares down at our conjoined hands.
“I never thought I was going to find somebody who could understand the pain I suffered because of my family. Emaly never could, even when she was ousted by hers. They still loved her enough to be in her life, while mine didn’t care if I lived or died.
And I hate that your heart knows that kind of pain, sweetheart.
I hate that you’ve been put through hell and back.
But I can see how that has transformed you.
You’re a better person than I could ever be, because you don’t let that hate go to your heart. Not really.”
His fingers flex around mine before he lets go and lets out a deep breath. “So, here’s another secret just for you.” His head lifts, meeting my cautious eyes. “I have never felt like I could relate to somebody so wholeheartedly until the day you walked into my life.”
We stare at each other.
For five seconds.
Ten.
Fifteen.
My heart drums so wildly I can feel it in my eardrums. Thump, thump, thump, thump.
I let out a choppy breath. “Thomas…” I swallow, my mouth feeling dry and my heart feeling too full. His words absorb into it, growing far too big for the cage it sits in.
I shake my head, and his brows furrow.
“Fuck it,” I whisper, closing the short distance between us in the car.
I kiss him. And I don’t hold back.
I kiss him like my life depends on it.
I kiss him like he isn’t married.
I kiss him like we’re the only two people on this godforsaken earth.
And he lets me.
His hand cups my jaw, eagerly meeting my lips. He opens his mouth and lets me explore. My tongue brushes his, and my teeth bite into his bottom lip. My entire body buzzes as we kiss and kiss and kiss until I fear I’ll explode from the pressure building within me.
I pull away first, my eyes meeting his shyly.
He rests his forehead against mine, brushing strands of my hair with his fingers. “There is so much I wish I could do right now.”
I swallow. “I’d invite you in, but I’m on…” Well, I’d already admitted I’m on my period. I blush, like something so natural is embarrassing rather than normal. “I can’t.”
“Let me make one thing clear,” he says, his lips brushing my nose, then my mouth, before gravitating toward my ear. “The only thing stopping me from going inside with you is my respect for you. Nothing would stop me from doing very dirty things to you for a very long time. Blood doesn’t bother me.”
Oh my God.
“But I’m not going to do that,” he informs me, and I’m not sure if I feel relieved or disappointed.
“Because you’ve had a long day, and I want to let you settle and relax.
So, I’m going to get out and walk you to your door.
Then I’m going to kiss you goodbye and drive home, where I’ll probably wind up getting myself off to you in the shower. ”
Double oh my God.
If possible, my face grows hotter.
And Thomas does exactly what he says he will. He gets out of the car, opens my door, walks me to my apartment, and kisses me.
On the temple.
Not the lips.
And I can see that he wants to, but doesn’t trust himself not to follow me inside if that line is crossed.
So, I let him go.
And I try very hard not to think about what he may or may not be doing in the shower hours later when I crawl into bed for the night.
The next morning, I wake up to find a bag full of chocolate, pain relievers, and a heating pad at my apartment door.
There’s no note, but I don’t need one.