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I shake my head, and he raises his hands in understanding. “I get it. None of the heavy shit tonight. Now let me show you how to win a game the right way, because I need a fucking drink.”
Dyl takes his shot, sinks his stripe, and lines up for the black.
He turns and shouts across the room, “This one’s for you, baby.” That catches Marcella’s attention, and she rolls her eyes. Ash laughs and the two girls make their way over to us.
When she’s within arm’s reach, I tug her close and press a kiss to her neck. She smells like fucking honey and thoughts of tasting her the way I did a few hours ago makes my mouth water.
“You’re a fucking addiction,” I hiss against her neck, grabbing her ass and tugging her against my hardening cock.
The sound of balls slapping together has me reluctantly turning my attention back to the pool table where a smug-looking Dylan and I watch as he sinks the black. Fuck!
“And that is how you do it, pussy.” My friend laughs. The fucker knew Ash would be a distraction. I can’t help but laugh as he turns around and devours his girlfriend, high from his victory.
ChapterFifteen
ASH
Intoxicating. Just breathing him in makes me high. His fingers trace lazily over my arm as I study his latest work. And while I feel his touch all over, it’s his painting that penetrates my soul. It’s a woman huddled over, her bony spine visible, a tattered dress hanging at her waist, and dark shadows looming over her. I want to reach out and touch the bruises that seem to engulf her pale skin. It’s devastating, and I feel anguish bubble up, threatening to overtake me.
“Hey, hey,” Ryder is in front of me in seconds, swiping at tears I hadn’t realized were falling. Strong arms wrap around me, grounding me as I tremble and shatter in front of him. It’s meant to depict his mother, but I have witnessed that kind of agony firsthand.
Ryder lifts me and carries me to a daybed in his studio, setting me down gently. It’s the first time he’s brought me here. A small loft above the Rothwell gallery.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Shh, I got you” He lies beside me, running his fingers through my hair. “Just breathe, baby.”
Ryder places a kiss on my forehead.
“It’s beautiful, Ryder. It just reminded me of things I thought I’d safely buried.”
His worried gray eyes observe me, patiently waiting.
“My mom. There were all these signs you know, things I missed. Maybe, if I’d paid closer attention to it. To her. She wouldn’t have done it.” There. I said it. After all this time, I utter the words I’d been bottling up.
Ryder’s hands cup my face, “Listen to me. What happened is not your fault.”
I shake my head, tears now streaming down my cheeks. “My dad was gonna leave us. I haven’t told anyone this, but he was. He met someone else, a guy he connected with online. We knew for months. Dad was open with her about it, promised to stay until they were sorted financially, and not let the relationship he was having online progress any further. Mom pretended she was okay. But the devastation, it was there.”
I close my eyes, thinking back to that time.
“Mom?”
“Ash, baby, you’re home early,” she slurs. She sits in the same spot she does every day, staring at her MacBook and attempting to write. Two empty bottles of wine are on the serving table beside her. This is what my dad and I have gotten used to. He blames himself, I blame him, but mostly I blame her for not being strong enough to walk away. She still has me. She will always have me.
“Do you want anything to eat? I can whip us up a sandwich,” I ask, hoping she will eat something.
“There’s pasta in the fridge, sweetheart. We’ll order in later.” We both know we won’t but it’s a familiar dance we do to avoid difficult topics.
How can she still pretend to be the woman she always was, cleaning the house, cooking, and working, and yet it was obvious she wasn’t the same? Something changed the day she found out my father didn’t desire her as he once had and didn’t see a life with her anymore.
They tried to keep it from me, but I heard the arguments, and I placed a blanket over her for when she passed out in the living room later on.
“Thanks, Mom. I’m gonna be in my room. Shout if you need anything, okay.”
“I will baby, I love you,” she says, her eyes glassy.
After sharing the memory with Ryder, I sink against his chest, spent and unable to look at him. I have carried this sadness around with me for too long.
