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“Thank you.”
She came back and reached for my hand. “I’m here. Okay? I’m right here.” She was blinking back tears once again, and I knew she was thinking of Kelly, so I squeezed her hand. She choked out a sob but squeezed mine back, just as hard.
“We’ll be in the other room.” Trace touched her shoulder, drawing her with him. “Take your time, Ash.”
There was no response.
Ashton was setting me down on the bed as they left, closing the door behind them.
“I need to change clothes myself.”
I tried protesting but stopped because that was ridiculous. They were acting like I was some fragile kid. I might’ve been in shock or not in my body earlier, but I was now. I could think. Reason. I knew he needed to change clothes, but I wasn’t going back to that gas station, and I wouldn’t return to our old roles of how Ashton couldn’t stand me. Not now, anyways, but I was still rational.
I moved back in bed, climbing in.
He seemed surprised, standing, waiting until I was settled in.
I gave him a thumbs-up but still didn’t talk.
Everything was just hurting so bad. Aching. I felt like I’d been hit with a semi, and at some point, I might’ve dozed off because the next thing I remembered was the sound of the shower.
The door was open. Light spread out from the room. A couple other lamps were on in this room, but I was starting to feel warm. Slightly.
Finally.
I was only shaking a tiny bit.
Then the water cut off. Ashton came out of the bathroom a moment later, a towel around his waist as he was running a hand through his hair. He paused, surveying me, but we didn’t talk. He went into his closet and came back in sweats. Nothing else, but the tattoo on his hand stood out. A dove, wings stretched out, rays of sun shining from behind it.
He went over, turned off one lamp, and went to his side of the bed.
He watched me. “You want Jess to come in instead?”
He meant if I wanted her to sleep with me. I shook my head.
I wasn’t questioning any of my decisions right now. I didn’t have the strength.
He nodded, reaching out, and turned off the second lamp. The bed depressed as he crawled in, and then I felt him against me. I felt his heat, and I made a sound. I felt it in my chest as his heat engulfed me. It was so abrupt but needed.
“You okay?” His hand touched my arm. The one with the tattoo.
I grabbed it, holding it up so I could feel it. I couldn’t see it anymore in the dark, but I knew it was there. I traced my fingers over it, feeling his skin. “Why do you have a tattoo that usually means peace?”
He tensed. “What?”
“The dove. The rays of sun. Your life is not about peace.”
He didn’t answer right away. “Because there was a time in my life when I needed some. So I got it.”
“Did it work?”
Another pause. “No.”
“After our mothers died?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
I crawled to him, wrapped my legs around him, and burrowed into his chest.
God.
Warmth.
I wouldn’t shake so much now.
He was still tense, and then slowly, muscle by muscle, he relaxed until he was lying on his side, his arms around me too. He moved again, rolling to his back, and I moved with him, settling into his side. My head to his chest.
He lifted an arm, and softly, gently, he began smoothing it down the side of my face, my shoulder, my arm, and he’d repeat the motion.
Over and over again. One. Two.
Ten.
Twenty.
Thirty-nine.
Forty-eight.
I wished for a flying dove right before I fell asleep.
Then I stopped counting.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ASHTON
I stayed until long after Molly fell asleep, and even then, I couldn’t bring myself to leave her.
This—I didn’t know what the fuck this was, but needing to take care of her, the terror that went through me when that gun touched her head. It was nothing to how it felt when she looked at me.
I felt struck by lightning.
She was scared. She knew she would die, and she looked at me for help. It was in an instant. One look. Not even a second and we both knew what we were going to do.
I hated her while growing up and now this? This? What the hell was happening with me? I untangled myself from her. It’d been my fourth attempt. The first two she’d fought back, waking up. The third, I hadn’t had the heart in it myself, but this fourth time—I needed to separate. At least for a bit. I needed to think clearly again, to even remember how that felt.
Pulling a shirt on, I headed out and toward Trace’s basement. He had a whole TV lounge area, and in the last month since he’d bought this place for him and Jess, it was where they spent the most time. He was at the bar mixing a drink when I came down the stairs.
