Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
The inside of her apartment is cozy despite the space being completely open.
All four walls are exposed brick, which looks nice with the steel beams that run along the ceiling and frame out the bedroom area above where I stand in her kitchen.
I lean against the large, black granite covered island–my ankles and arms crossed–looking at the pictures I've seen a thousand times on her refrigerator. Most of them are photos from Mav and Parker’s wedding, mixed in with a few from her short stint at college before she dropped out and moved after deciding school wasn't for her.
My attention is drawn back to a photo from the wedding.
Parker and Mav stand at the center; him looking down at her as if she’s the very reason he breathes.
Nick stands next to Parker, Elias next to Mav–both men beaming–which is an odd sight for me considering I can count on both hands the number of times I’ve seen Elias smile.
Grumpy old bastard. Nick’s smile could light up the tri-state area.
Anyone who knows the man, and what he and Parker have been through, couldn't blame him. Then, standing tucked underneath Nick’s other arm is Ashlynn.
Her eyes glitter in the natural light of the sunset, and she’s laughing.
The photographer caught the perfect shot of her looking the happiest she’s ever been.
Her copper hair is down and fluffed to one side, falling in loose waves over her shoulders.
She’s got one arm around Nick’s waist and the other down at her side brushing against the dusty blue bridesmaid dress she had on that day–the color made her eyes even more enchanting.
And to the side of Elias, paying no mind to my best friend and his new bride, or the other men in the photo, is me.
My gaze locked entirely onto her and nothing else.
My lips are set in a tense line, and my brows are furrowed.
I remember thinking how completely stunning she looked at that moment.
In fact it plays over in my mind religiously.
That day was the most carefree she had been since that night at Doc’s when she fell back into my grasp.
She is phenomenal at masking her emotions and letting everyone else think she’s the happiest person they’ve ever known.
She’s always there for everyone else. A great employee her coworkers can count on, an even better friend–but the side I see is different.
She harbors so much rage and resentment, and she’s hell bent on taking it all out on me.
Pushing off the counter, I snatch the picture from the refrigerator and slide it inside my jacket then make my way over to her living room.
The shower is still running, the sound echoing across the open space and steam steadily billows out of the crack in the bathroom door.
After coming up here, I waited around in the hallway until I knew she would be in the shower or bed before coming in.
I’ve riled her up enough tonight. Tomorrow is a new day.
Stopping at her plush sofa, I drop onto the chaise lounge and make myself comfortable. Leaning my head against the back of the couch, I stare up at the ceiling and contemplate my next move. How I’m going to get her to let go and trust me. This back and forth has gone on long enough.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, interrupting the quiet moment and grating my nerves. I squeeze my eyes shut before letting out a long breath. Listening for another minute to make sure she’s still in the shower, I pull out the device, huffing with irritation. It's a group text.
Can’t a guy stalk in peace?
Slater
Booth tomorrow morning. 06:00
Before I can reply, the shower stops and the sound of her sliding the shower curtain back pierces the silence.
Pocketing my cell, I raise from the couch and quietly step over to a small laundry closet off of the living room.
There’s a gap in the pocket door. I manage to push the door open further without a sound, then slip inside the room before closing it slightly–leaving myself plenty of room to watch her, not bothering to put too much effort into concealing myself.
If she catches me, she catches me.
As expected, her bathroom door opens and Ashlynn walks out.
She’s wrapped in a purple fluffy bath sheet, and her hair twisted up in a matching microfiber towel.
She pads over to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water, pausing for just a second before making her way up the stairs into the loft area–her bedroom.
Whether or not she knows I’m here, I’m not sure.
And to be honest I don't care. She’s never let on that she does, and she doesn't spare a glance in my direction.
I watch from below as she rifles through her drawers to grab an oversized tee shirt and slips it over her head.
Dropping down on the edge of her bed, she taps away on her phone screen.
After a moment of her indecisiveness, Lullaby by Creed softly bounces off the walls.
She drops the phone onto her mattress before staring up at the ceiling.
From here, I see her throat bob as she swallows before letting out a breath.
I watch as the weight of the day leaves her shoulders, and she hangs her head.
She listens to this song on repeat every night, and one day I fully intend on finding out why because it’s clear it upsets her. More often than not, she falls asleep with tears clinging to her cheeks.
The song finishes before starting back up again as Ashlynn flips back the covers to lay down.
It’s nearing four in the morning, and I need to get back to Perdition to meet with Slater and the guys.
Typically, I’d wait until she passes out before sneaking out.
I don't particularly care to listen to her yell at me if she finds me, but I need to leave.
Carefully, I push the pocket door back. It glides silently on its track, and I glance up to the loft to make sure she hasn't moved. She’s turned onto her side–her hair fanning the pillow around her and the sound of her attempting to stifle her already silent tears comes in over the music.
I want to go to her. I want to rip the sadness from her with my bare hands and scorch it to ash. But not now. Soon though. She will stop this pointless push and pull. I’ll be sure of it.
Stepping out of her laundry room, I manage to quietly tip toe to her front door and exit the apartment–but I make sure to close the door loud enough for her to hear.
Times up, terror. Game over.