He shoots her a glare, and she scrunches her face right back at him. With a sigh, he turns to me. “Fine. What she said.”
I squint at both of them and cross my arms. He looks miserable as he waits for my response. Maybe it makes me a terrible person, but I’m kind of enjoying torturing him.
I clear my throat. “I mean, my parents would love it,” I muse out loud. “Their daughter moving into a doublewide—”
I’m cut off by a kiss. Strong, talented hands shove into my hair and lock me against him. My own tighten behind his neck, and even the preteen puking sounds from across the room don’t deter us.
“Please?” he whispers, pulling back and searching my eyes.
I have to force away the smile creeping onto my face that will betray me, because as much as I’m enjoying making him suffer, I like his grins even more. I love making Julian Campbell happy. And angry. And excited. And hopeful. I just love Julian Campbell and the fact that he and his mess inexplicably love me.
We each had a long hard path to find our way, a journey that’s really only beginning. I’m finding mine in learning to accept myself as I am and that my choices are valid no matter what other people think. Julian is learning to find his purpose and happiness in caring for someone else. Naomi is finding her passion and identity as an important, cherished human being. Our journeys may be unique but they’re intertwined in a way that makes us all believe we’ll be able to find our way if we travel them together.
I’m about to kiss him again when we’re interrupted by a shriek.
“O.M.G. This is my room?” Naomi screams from the door next to the studio. “Pleeeeese tell me this is my room, Uncle J!”
Julian laughs and shoots his gaze in her direction. “Guess she likes it,” he says.
I kiss his cheek. “Sounds like it. After that reaction, I can’t wait to see ours.”
He spins back to me, eyes wide. “Wait… does that mean?”
“Yes,” I whisper, losing myself in expressive dark eyes that tell an incredible story.
His face floods with relief, and I pull him in for that missing kiss. This one feels different than the lust-filled desperation we’ve had in the past. This one feels safe. Eternal.
“Ew,” Naomi says, suddenly beside us. We pull apart, and Julian looks amused as she makes a face. “Anyway, you’ve got to see this, Aunt Hadley. I’ve got my own TV and a sitting area where I can play my guitar. Oh, and the bed!”
She grabs my hand, and I let her pull me away, but not before twisting back for another glance at Julian. He looks serene standing there, watching us with a content smile on his face. For a split second, I see something new in his eyes. A different kind of flame. This one burns with a soft glow, a lasting hope.
Like maybe, just maybe, we’ve finally found better days.
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Excerpt from ASHTON MORGAN: Apartment 17B
The Wreck Me Series
by Aly Stiles
Copyright © 2021 by Aly Stiles
All Rights Reserved
PROLOGUE
ASHTON
“Do you have to go back today?” Braydon scowls into his cereal bowl, swirling his spoon through sweet, color-speckled milk. He better drink that. It’s the best part.
“I know, little dude. It was fun being home this week, but yeah. I have an exam tomorrow. I’ll be back for a long break after the semester ends, though. I promise.”
My little brother perks up. “Really? How long?”
“Um… I think we get almost a month for winter break.”
“A whole month? And you’ll come home?”
I hate how his eyes widen like me coming home is a rare event. I’m here as often as I can be. Every summer. Every break. Even driving the eleven hours for the occasional weekend visit to check on things. While professors and career counselors begged me to get an internship and earn industry experience, I spent every summer of my college years working and helping with the bills. I’ll have to figure out the gaps in my resume after I graduate in May. Despite all of this, I still feel guilty when those big brown eyes blink up at me.
“You’re still here. Figured you’d be gone by now,” a voice interrupts.
Bray and I glance toward our mother when she enters the kitchen with a sour expression. Why was she out again last night? She knew I was leaving today and she’d have to resume the “parent role” with me gone.
I try to keep my resentment in check for Braydon’s sake—and the fact that I don’t feel like stewing over another fight with my mom during an eleven-hour drive.
“I’m heading out in a minute. Just having some breakfast with my little man first.” I reach over and ruffle his hair, smirking as he pulls back with the indignant grimace of a seven-year-old being treated like a six-year-old.
“You get your laundry from my room? I left your stuff in the basket.”
“Got it.” I push up from the table and grab my bowl to take it to the sink.
“Hey, Ash?”
I turn, surprised to find her a foot away.
She stares up at me with a hesitant look. Her lips press together as if blocking forbidden words. She couldn’t possibly want to say she loves me, right? A mother telling a son he’s important and valued? At least a thank you for turning down a dozen invitations for a lavish Thanksgiving feast to come home and eat boxed mac and cheese?
Her eyes flicker with suppressed emotion as she seems to wrestle away whatever traitorous thought almost gained the edge. Of course she won’t say it. Probably can’t after twenty-two years of being my mother.
She reaches up and gently grips my chin instead. “I like this by the way. Looks good on you.” She rubs her thumb over the scruff on my face.
I duck away and turn to the sink. “Thanks,” I mumble, grabbing the sponge.
“Ash…”
I dig in harder against invisible food debris I might have missed.
“It’s fine, Mom. I get it.”
She squeezes my arm. “You’re a good kid. I don’t tell you that enough.”