Chapter Six #2
“Not this. What she went through—” I snapped my mouth shut as the screen door opened.
Carrie stepped out onto the porch, her blue eyes dim, the corners of her mouth turned down.
She didn’t bother shutting the main door, and I tried to push away the thoughts of Angel’s home.
I was the one who’d had to carry her inside, after all.
She was in my arms, cradled to my chest, with her eyes closed as I stood in the middle of her beautiful living room, watching Margo scramble around, turning on all the lamps.
As soon as I laid her on the couch, I dipped my head and went back outside.
Carrie and Grayson had arrived two minutes later.
My spine snapped straight. “What’s wrong? Is she okay?”
“Yes, she’s fine. Margo is trying to get her to go to bed, but she won’t,” Carrie softly explained. Grayson put his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. She looked up at her fiancée and then back at me, chewing on her bottom lip. “She’s…”
I stepped closer, anxiety coursing through me like a damn virus. “What? She’s what?”
“She’s asking about you.”
My knees nearly gave out and my chest deflated. “What?” I rasped, my heart drumming in my ears.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
It was damn near deafening.
She stepped away from Grayson, tipping her head back to look up at me, eyes starting to shine. “She wants to thank you.”
My head snapped up to the door, and through the screen, I could see the end of her cream couch. Her feet were no longer there.
Had she gotten up?
Was she looking for me?
Or was she curled into the far corner of the couch, scared to come outside because of me? Because I reminded her of the past?
The flames raging in my chest were suddenly snuffed out by a freezing wave of guilt. It shrouded my heart in darkness yet again. “Is she all right?” I pressed, putting my hands on Carrie’s shoulders. I shot a worried glance at Grayson, who pressed his lips into a thin line.
“Aside from the bump on her head, she’s okay. Margo also made sure to check her blood sugar one more time, and everything is normal, but—”
“Blood sugar?” I repeated it in a rush.
Carrie nodded. “Angel is a type-two diabetic.” My shoulders loosened, the new information chasing away the cold rush of guilt. In its place was something I didn’t have the energy to decipher. “Like I was saying, she’s asking for you, Ash. She wants to thank you—face to face.”
My hands fell away from her, and I started to take a step back, shaking my head. “No, I can’t. I don’t want—”
Grayson spoke then, cutting off my words with a gentle observation. “You’re acting like you are the one who hurt her, who abused her, Ash…and that doesn’t sit right with me.”
Panic clung to my skin like sweat, seeping into my bloodstream, mixing with everything else that kept me a mess. That’s all I was. A fucking mess who’d made too many mistakes. But hurting Angel, scaring her in any way, would never be one of them. “I just don’t want to scare her…or hurt her.”
“You aren’t going to do either of those things,” Carrie murmured, confusion crossing over her face. “You’re Ash. That’s not who you are.”
Fucking Carrie.
Always so damn helpful.
Despite the need to argue, to prove to her and Grayson that I didn’t belong in Angel’s life, I couldn’t.
Not while Carrie was looking at me like I was a kicked puppy she’d found on the street.
I owed her so much, not just for everything she’d done for Grayson, but also for holding off on their wedding.
According to Dominic, Grayson had told Carrie that marrying her without my presence felt wrong.
He didn’t expect anything to come out of it, but Carrie pushed the wedding because she agreed.
“Carrie, you saw the look on her face that day.”
“Well, yes, but Ash, it’s been nearly two years. Her shock was…understandable,” she admitted. “You were probably the last person on earth she expected to see, and then to find out you never gave up on trying to find her…”
Grayson’s eyes met mine.
He never told her that I had given up.
Shaking that off, I rubbed the back of my neck, ready to make another excuse.
Footsteps echoed from inside the house, and Margo appeared behind the screen.
At the same time, the familiar rumble of Hayes’ Jeep came up the driveway, his headlights flashing over the porch as he parked behind Grayson’s truck.
“Ash?” Margo called.
My eyes slid over to her green ones as Hayes stalked through the rain, his jaw set. I jerked my chin at her, unable to trust my mouth.
She pushed the screen door open and held it. “Angel is asking to speak with you.”
“I—”
“Look, if you don’t come in here, she is going to come out, and I can’t stop her,” Margo talked over me. At the last word, Hayes was on the porch. Carrie, Grayson, and I watched as he scanned over her.
“Angel all right?” he asked, raindrops falling from his hair.
“Yes,” Carrie piped up. “She wants to speak to Ash, but Ash is being stubborn.”
Hayes lifted the bottom of his shirt and wiped his face. “Yeah, well, when is Ash not a stubborn jackass?”
“I didn’t say jackass,” she shot back, sending me an apologetic look.
He finally looked at me. Things were still tense between us, and I couldn’t blame him for his anger.
“Oh, did you not? Must’ve been the wind,” he drawled.
If things were normal between us, I would’ve flipped him off and laughed.
He lifted his arm and gestured to the house.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” he prompted.
Permission.
Forgiveness.
Absolution.
A fucking sign from the universe or Nonna that I wasn’t going crazy.
Angel.
Margo huffed and trudged out of the house, keeping the door open with her Doc Marten. She swung her arm into the house, eyes on me. “Go in there and talk to her!” she hissed.
My gut twisted, a heavy ball of dread slamming down at the bottom. “But she—”
“Ash, dude,” Margo urged, bringing her hands together. “She is asking for you. She hasn’t asked me to speak for her or for you. She wants to see you, to talk to you.”
Fuck.
Fucking fuck.
“Go,” Grayson ordered quietly, tipping his head to the house. “We’ll wait out here.” He paused and looked at Margo. “All of us.”
She stared at him for a moment but eventually nodded and made her way to Hayes. I glanced at Carrie and Grayson as my feet moved. Carrie gave me a small, unsure smile, but Grayson gave me a single nod. And somehow, the ball of dread started to unravel.
The house was warm, a mix of lemons, musk, and then in the air as the floorboards creaked beneath my weight.
The entryway was grand, a staircase off to the left, a hallway leading to the back of the house beside it.
From the small table in the center, if I went left, I would be in what looked like an office, and to the right—
“Hello, Ash.”
Her sweet voice cut through my thoughts. The sound of my name on her tongue carried so much power, I doubt either of us would know how to handle it if I told her so. I turned to the right, holding my breath. My eyes landed on her and my heart nearly stopped.
I’d only managed to see a glimpse of her that day in Rossy’s.
Jesus, she looked so…alive. An angel walking on earth, and I wasn’t worthy enough to even breathe in her presence.
She was standing in front of the fireplace, her back to it, arms wrapped around herself.
Along the mantel, white candles and blue candles lined up in glass jars were lit, their small flames dancing.
She was tall, taller than Margo. If she were to stand in front of me, my lips would be in line with her forehead.
Her body, no longer skin and bone, was healthy.
Her shoulders were round, her hips prominent, and her legs…
she was a work of art. Margo had made her change from her work uniform into a pair of loose cream linen pants and matching long sleeved shirt with a deep neckline.
It showed off her freckled skin, and in this light, with her damp hair framing her face, she looked ethereal.
I dipped my chin, dropping my eyes. “Angel,” I murmured gruffly. I heard a sharp inhale and instantly righted my head to find her rubbing her upper arms as if trying to warm herself up. “Are you cold?” I asked cautiously, eyeing the fire.