“We were gonna use them in the campfire, remember?” Ash says and kicks one of the boxes out of the way so the path is clear again. “Save us a trip to the dump.”
“Oh, yeah. But no. Right.” What was I talking about again? Ugh, stupid Autumn with her stupid wine. It always hits me so much harder than anything else. I think hard for a second, leaning against the wall to steady myself as I try to remember what I was talking about. Stupid wine. My thoughts are slipping away from me like the beach sand through my fingers. “What was I . . .h, yeah!” I wag a finger at Ash. “Money.” That was it. I look around the room, but it’s too dark. “Where’s my checkbook?” I know it’s here somewhere. It has to be. I’m halfway to the little table we put by the front door when I hear Ash laugh and feel his hand close around my upper arm, tugging me back.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, and even in the darkness I can see his smile. I really, really like his smile. “Come on—” he tugs at my arm again “—let’s get you to bed.”
The journey through the kitchen feels both epically long and like a sudden whirlwind all at once, and before I know what’s happening I’m tumbling down onto my mattress, laughing so hard that I have tears in my eyes.
“Stupid wine.” I giggle, and reach up to wipe the moisture from my face. Ash is just looking down at me in the darkness, shaking his head but I can still see his smile. “Seriously, though. It’s been a month.” The words are coming out of my mouth, but I’ve half-forgotten what I’m talking about. “Your pay!” I blurt out after a moment, feeling victorious that I’ve managed to remember. “I need to pay you.”
I struggle like an upside-down turtle for a moment, before getting my bearings enough to roll over and make a grab for my purse. It’s by the side of the mattress, but there’s only the tiniest amount of light coming in through the kitchen windows, so the quest for my checkbook has been upgraded from difficult to mission-freaking-impossible.
After a couple of minutes or hours or however long it takes, I give up and shove my purse to the side. “I’m such a shitty boss. I’ll pay you tomorrow,” I say, flopping back down on the mattress. Reaching up, I rub the heels of my hands into my eye sockets and try to make my thoughts make sense. Seriously, what was in that wine? I’m starting to suspect it was closer to moonshine than actual vino.
When I pull my hands down and open my eyes again, my entire body kind of jerks. Jesus, I think, trying to get my heart rate back down to normal. I forgot Ash was even here. He’s standing so still, and he hasn’t said a word.
“I’m sorry,” I say again as I turn over and reach for my pillow, because Ash definitely deserves a boss that will actually pay him when they’re supposed to. It’s not his fault that I’m so bad at this. “I really am. I’m a terrible boss. I’m lucky you haven’t already quit.” I face-plant into the softness of the pillow. Mmmm. Nice. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
I’m almost asleep when I feel it, a dip in the mattress, a gentle hand on my shoulder, resting there for a second and then trailing down my head, smoothing down my hair.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ash whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I smile into my pillow.
The mattress shifts again just as I’m on the edge of sleep, and I feel it as Ash gets up. He whispers “goodnight,” and his shadow crosses over to block the tiny bit of light through the doorway, and I wake up enough to turn and look at him.
“Where’re you going?” I mumble.
“Just heading home,” Ash says. “It’s late. Or early, now, I guess. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I reach out and sort of flap my hand in his direction. “Stay,” I say, and then I realize what I’ve just said. I just invited him to stay the night. Oh god. I can feel my face heat, and I want to smother myself with my own pillow. This is mortifying. Ash must agree, because he’s completely frozen in the doorway, and even in the dark I can tell he’s staring at me like I’ve grown another head.
This is what happens when the entirety of your romantic involvement can be summed up with a handful of drunken make-outs and a single boyfriend who disappeared off the face of the earth the second he turned eighteen. Minimal experience; total embarrassment.
“Um . . . what?”
I pull in a deep breath and blow it out slowly. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Stay,” I say, turning over completely so I can look him in the eye. “It’s late.” His silence is killing me, so I hastily add, “You can take the shed or the sofa or whatever. But don’t drive. It’s too late and you must be exhausted.”
“I . . . ” Ash starts, then stops for a moment. I watch as he shifts from foot to foot in the darkness, waiting for him to let me down easy, but his rejection doesn’t come. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
“Good,” I say, and burrow back down into my pillow before I can do any more damage. Even though I’m turned away and can’t see him, I can still feel his presence. He hovers in the doorway for a moment, and slowly but surely, the tendrils of sleep begin to tangle around me once again.
I’m almost lost to them when I hear his quiet murmur of “thanks,” and the soft sound of his footsteps as he walks away, and I can’t help but smile.
Ash
I’m a fucking idiot.
Honestly, a punch to the gut probably would have been gentler. It’s just a job to her. It always has been.
I’m the one that keeps forgetting that. It’s not Star’s fault. She’s just being nice. I’m the one latching onto her like a fucking octopus.
And the really pathetic thing? I don’t see that stopping anytime soon. That’s why I’m up at the ass-crack of dawn, in line at the take-out counter at the diner to get her breakfast. Because even though she isn’t interested, she’s amazing and I’m a huge fucking pussy.
If my ex saw me right now, she’d be laughing her ass off.
But then again, Gina never did think very much of my efforts to be a good boyfriend. Not that I tried a lot back then, but still. Anything I did to try to be romantic had been shot down. The one time I brought her flowers, she’d laughed in my face and asked if that’s what I really thought she wanted from me.
I can’t believe I ever actually thought she loved me. I’m such a fucking idiot. Or was an idiot, I guess. I know a hell of a lot better now. I’m not going to be fooled by pretty red hair and a sweet smile, not when there was a fucking heartless shell underneath.
Star isn’t like that. I know it.
But it still sucks that she only sees me as an employee, and nothing more.
“What can I get you?” I look up, startled at the voice, and I realize with a start that I’ve reached the front of the line, and that the waitress—Maisie, her name tag reads—is standing in front of me, pad in hand, eyebrow raising millimeter by millimeter as I stand there, unresponsive. Fuck. I shake my head, trying to clear it of the bad memories, and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“Shit, sorry,” I say. “Breakfast sandwiches. Two of them. And coffee, too. Please?”
She blinks at me for a second, then nods and turns away, which is about a million times better service than I got from the blonde waitress the other day. But it’s still nowhere close to welcoming. I sigh and scrub my hands over my face. Who the hell am I kidding? Star’s the only one in this town willing to take a chance on me, and she’s leaving soon. I’m going to be miserable without her.
There’s nothing in this town for me, not anymore. But I can’t leave. I’m stuck here until my parole is up.