Returning To Ravens Ridge (The Ravens Ridge Riders #1)

Chapter 1

ASH

MARCH PRESENT DAY

My entire life, I’ve longed for someone to make me their priority.

I wanted to be chosen, not because they felt obligated, but because they couldn’t stand to live without me.

When I walked down the aisle the day of my wedding, all I could think was finally.

He didn’t have to buy me a ring. He didn’t have to get down on one knee. He didn’t have to stick around.

But Casey did.

Now, I sit across from the same man while he tries to explain how he could possibly choose someone else over me. It’d almost be comical if he wasn’t blowing up my life with every word.

Almost.

“Ashton, did you hear me?”

I snap out of my daze, looking up from the dark cherry desk to the man I’ve spent the last five years building a life with. He runs a hand through his perfectly swept, light brown hair.

“I’m not sure? Did you really call me into your office in the middle of the workday to tell me you’re leaving me for your receptionist?” Blood rushes to my ears. “Now of all times?”

He exhales, adjusting his navy-blue suit jacket. It’s the one I picked up from the dry cleaners yesterday.

Because I pick up his dry cleaning.

Not her.

No, she’s probably busy fucking my husband while I run his errands.

His normally pale skin, now sun-kissed from a recent work trip to the Keys, flushes red. “I just wanted you to know the truth. It’s not that I don’t love you, I do. I—”

“Love her more?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.” He spins his chair to stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him.

The view from the fifth level of this building is breath taking.

Puffy white clouds float through the ocean of sky.

In the movies, bad days always take place in the middle of a thunderstorm or during overcast at the very least—not in the midst of clear skies and sunshine.

What a perfect backdrop for the worst day of my life.

When he turns back, his vacant eyes fall on me. I used to love the way he looked at me—like I was the most captivating person he’d ever seen.

Something flickers in Casey’s whiskey-colored irises anytime he catches a glimpse of something he has to have.

It happened when we went to the dealership and picked out his brand-new cherry-red Porsche, and it happened when we locked eyes for the first time.

It was one of the things that made it so easy to fall for him in the first place.

Who doesn’t want to feel like you’ve changed someone’s life just by existing?

He’s not looking at me like that now, though. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

My brows raise. “Well, I guess there’s nothing else to say, is there?”

He fidgets with a pen.

“Where’s your ring?”

For the first time since we got married, he’s not wearing it. Did he take it off this morning? Or was it right before he decided to call me in here? Is it tucked away in his desk drawer? Has he been taking it off every time he has sex with her behind my back?

His eyes snap up, and a crease forms between his brows. “Why would I keep it on?”

He says it like it was a silly question, and I guess maybe it was, but damn… Who takes their ring off before they ask for a divorce? Doesn’t that feel like something that should come after?

I spin my gaudy-ass ring around my finger.

When he proposed, I was so in love he could have done it with a zip tie, and I’d have said yes. But the ring he bought me is too big, over the top, and not my style. I never admitted that even to myself until now, but I hate the stupid thing. It feels like it’s burning through my flesh.

Sliding it off, I toss it at him like it might bite me.

It plinks off a picture sitting near his open laptop. It’s from our daughter Maggie’s first birthday. He’s holding her with the biggest smile plastered on his face, and I’m behind him, resting my chin on his shoulder.

His eyes are on her, and my eyes are on him.

He sighs. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

I half laugh, dragging my eyes from the photo to him. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you screwed the receptionist. You definitely should have before you fell in love with her.”

I wish there was more bite to my voice, more hatred, but instead it just sounds pathetic. Like how a child might sound when no one chooses them to be on their kickball team in PE. Not mad, just embarrassed and rejected.

I don’t hate him. I couldn’t. I’m so utterly in love with this man that I might actually throw up. If I thought it’d make a difference, I’d get down on the floor and beg him to change his mind.

But I’ve begged a man to stay before and all it got me was a big ol’ scoop of humiliation to go with my broken heart.

He rests his forearms on the desk. His gold watch taps against the wood.

It feels like I should be crying right about now, but no tears well in my eyes.

I clear my throat. “Maggie will be crushed.”

He twists his mouth to bite the inside of his cheek. “I’ll be around. It’s not like splitting up makes me any less her dad. Whatever we have to do, we’ll make it work for her.”

Whatever we have to do? How about don’t screw women who aren’t her mother? That would work.

Oh, too late.

I should yell at him, right? I should stand up and tell him that he’s a piece of shit, or say fuck you for doing this to our family and fuck her too. I should pick up the papers on his desk and throw them. Maybe slap him.

But I don’t. With a curt nod, I mutter, “Okay.”

“I’m gonna stay at my brother’s for a while. So, you have time to find a place.”

Something cracks, but I don’t know if it’s my heart or my sanity.

I laugh. Not a little giggle—a full-blown maniacal laugh. He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have.

My pulse rages, and I stop. “Thank you so much for being so considerate after blowing up my life.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up! Okay?” My hands fly up. “Stop talking. I’ll be out of your house, and you and your little girlfriend can have it all to yourselves.”

I storm toward the door, pressure building in my chest. My only thought—get the hell out of here.

Before leaving, I add, “Oh, and I quit.”

I slam the door behind me, and every head in the office turns in my direction. Do they know?

I didn’t even have to continue working at his stupid record label after we got married. I only did because I genuinely liked working here. Now it feels like the place is swallowing me whole.

I take a deep breath and glare at the receptionist, who seems to be busy staring at her computer screen to avoid my dirty look. Wouldn’t it be fun to run over there and rip every brown hair out of her stupid head? I could get a good fistful of it and slam her face on the desk.

She wouldn’t be so pretty with her perfect little button nose smashed in, would she?

Holy shit, Ash. Get a grip.

Since I’m not completely off my rocker yet, I flip her off and stomp to my desk instead.

Let him have her. She’s probably terrible.

I groan, flopping down in my chair because I know she’s not. I’ve been working with Rachel for two years. She’s fucking delightful—a backstabbing, homewrecking, delightful bitch.

Grabbing my purse from the bottom drawer, I shove the pictures scattered across my desk into it. It’s strange, for years, this place has been my second home. Now, I’m an outcast.

When I’m done, the only thing left is our wedding picture sitting atop the otherwise empty surface. I zip up my purse and stand, roll my shoulders, and lift my chin. One foot in front of the other. I can do this.

My skin crawls as eyes track my departure, but I don’t falter.

I can’t tell if they’re staring at me out of pity or curiosity. It doesn’t matter; I’d rather they mind their own business. But that’s not how this works.

If they didn’t know, they do now. Gossip about how he chose a prettier woman over his wife and child will twist and wind through the office for the next few days, and eventually it’ll be like I was never here.

It will be him and her.

One day, no one will remember that I was here first.

When I make it to the elevator, I keep my head held high and my shoulders straight.

If I could fall to the floor and cry, I would. But the last thing I need is for the busy bodies to be talking about how I was dumped, then had a meltdown in front of the whole damn building. Instead, I’m determined to get to the car first.

That, however, feels like quite a feat.

It’s not the hurt—I can handle that. It’s the upending of my life.

It’s the complete destruction of the vision I had for my future—for Maggie’s future.

We’ll still be her parents, but she’ll be shuffled back and forth, changing her reality.

Her dreams will change. Everything will change. That’s what feels unbearable.

Having your dreams ripped out of your hands is like having someone dump you in the middle of the desert.

That walk back to civilization sucks. It’s hard and lonely.

It causes your feet to ache and your mind to wander through everything you could have done differently.

And when an occasional man on a Harley rides by, you get your hopes up that someone’s come for you. But they never stop.

You just keep walking.

It’s not until you finally make it back and have that first sip of water that you begin to see a new life.

Casey was my sip of water last time.

I don’t know if I have another long walk in me. The gut-wrenching, toe-curling pain when the person you love no longer wants you is something I never expected to feel again.

I suck air into my lungs in sharp breaths, trying my hardest to gain some semblance of composure before the elevator finishes its descent.

Of course, it’s the shortest elevator ride of my life. The doors couldn’t have just given me a few more moments. Although there probably aren’t enough minutes in a week to make me okay at this point.

What I need is a glass of wine and maybe a good tantrum.

Stepping off the elevator, I race down the hall. At least the people on this floor don’t have any idea what’s going on upstairs at Jamesview Sound. For all they know, I’m just in a hurry.

Flinging the glass doors open, I rush into the warm North Carolina sun. Normally, I love Raleigh in March—cool mornings and sunny afternoons.

But today it doesn’t matter what the temperature is because I’m on fire.

I can’t seem to get away fast enough. I’m not sure why, considering my options are this office and the house I no longer have any desire to call mine.

I meant it when I said, “I do.” I figured he’d meant it, too.

Silly me.

Men don’t mean anything they say. They choose themselves. Those are facts that I know to be true.

Finally reaching my stuffy black Escalade, I rip open the door and climb inside.

It was a birthday gift from Casey when we first got married. He thought it was an upgrade from my beat-up red Jeep. I never said anything because I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but I loved my Jeep. Letting her go broke my heart.

My head falls back against the leather, and I suck in a deep breath. My chest rises and falls in rapid heaves. My palms sting from clenching my fists so tight my nails dig into the flesh.

Collecting myself, I flip on the air conditioning and pull out of the lot.

I sniff away the tears. I’m supposed to be angry. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

I’m not sad, I’m pissed. I’m not sad, I’m pissed. I’m not sad, I’m—

Fuck!

A singular tear breaks free, rolling down my cheek.