Grayson exhales a long breath as he wraps me in his arms again, placing a soft kiss on top of my head.
“I left my purse at Ashton’s,” I say.
“I’ll go over there and get it for you before we leave.”
“Thank you… for everything.”
His kindness has given me a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, not all men are evil bastards.
“I’m here if you ever need anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
Dipping his head, his eyes lock with mine. “I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
Carla hit the jackpot with this one.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ASHTON
I take a seat on the edge of the mattress. My chest aches. Leaning across the bed, I scoop up the pillow that Emma laid her head on last night, bringing it to my nose. I clench my eyes shut. It smells like vanilla. Like her. I inhale sharply, trying to drown in her scent, holding on to the last piece of her that I have left.
How am I going to go on without her?
I never expected to fall so hard. I wasn’t even looking for anyone, but there she was.
So damn sweet.
And everything I didn’t know I needed.
I never stood a fucking chance.
But, the reality is, I’m not the man for her. I could never give her what she needs. Financially, yes, the world would be her oyster, but emotionally, it’s not possible. She needs someone who’ll worship the ground she walks on and love her with everything they have. I’m simply not capable of that.
Not anymore.
Emma needed to know that I’m not in this for the long haul. I don’t have time for some unrealistic notions of love. And as hard as it was to let her go, it would’ve been almost impossible to do if I let this play out any longer.
She makes me reckless.
She makes me forget my rules.
They’re my lifeline.
I’ve broken five of the six without a bat of an eyelid.
Four times I came inside her last night. Four.
Thankfully, my fifth rule—Always wrap it—held strong.
My shoulders slump as I release a long breath.
The truth is she makes me happy, happier than I think I’ve ever been, so saying goodbye was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I did it for her.
I wish things could be different.
But, I’m willing to sacrifice it all.
That’s what you do when you care about someone, you give up your happiness for them.
I bury my face in my hands. The loss I’m feeling is almost unbearable. Seeing the devastation on her face as I walked away will haunt me for the rest of my life. Hearing her cries as she scurried around my room collecting her things almost broke me.
I hear the front door slam downstairs, and my heart starts to race. Is she back?
“Barclay,” Grayson screams. “Get your fucking ass down here. Now.”
Here we go.
When I don’t answer or make an effort to move, I hear his loud footsteps stomp up the stairs. A few minutes later, my bedroom door flies open. It hits the adjoining wall with such force, it makes me flinch.
“What the fuck did you do?”
I cast my eyes downward.
He knows.
“Go away,” I grumble.
“Really? That’s all you have to say. You know what, I’m fucking done with you. For six years, I’ve stood by and watched my best friend… my fucking brother… slowly self-destruct. Do you know what that feels like? To see a person who means the world to you, someone who was once so full of life, die a little more inside each day. It fucking kills me. Then, out of nowhere, a woman comes along… an angel, your fucking savior. Someone who, without even trying, managed to breathe life back into you. Are you listening to me? She brought you back to life, goddammit. And what did you do? You threw her away like she meant nothing. Fuck!” He starts pacing back and forth. “How could you not want her?”
“I want her… I want her so fucking much,” I admit. “But I can’t do to her what I did to Anastasia. I couldn’t stand it.”
“It’s a bit late for that. You broke her.” He clutches his head in his hands. “I held her while she cried her fucking eyes out. I could seriously kick your ass right now. Are you listening to yourself? I don’t care what fucked-up notions you’ve got going on in your head, you deserve happiness, too. When are you going to let the past go? You couldn’t control what happened. I don’t care what you say or what you think, you’re not to blame for Anastasia’s death. That’s all on her, man. She was fucking crazy.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. She may have been crazy, but I still let her down when she needed me most.
“What the fuck are you afraid of, Ashton? Can’t you see it? She’s not her… Emma’s not fucking her.”
“I know.”
“I think you’re scared if you let her in, she’s going to get so deep under your skin you’ll never want her to leave, and that terrifies you.”
“She’s already there.” I raise my head, making eye contact with him. “I’m in love with her.”
Grayson throws his hands in the air. “Well, fucking fix this. If you don’t, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”
If only it were that simple.
I watch him from across the room. His nostrils flare as his chest rises and falls heavily with rage. I’ve never seen him this angry before.
“So, you’re just going to sit there and say nothing? Do nothing?”
“There’s nothing I can say or do that will fix this. I’m doing this for her. I couldn’t live with myself if I destroyed her, too.”
“You didn’t fucking destroy Anastasia,” he screams. “She did it to her-fucking-self. She wasn’t right in the head.” He stands there waiting for my reply, but I’ve got nothing more to say. “You know what, fuck you. Where’s Emma’s bag?” Grayson starts looking around my room.
I kicked her out without her purse? I’m fucking scum.
I was so lost in my own head, I even forget her car was still at the park.
“It’s probably in my car.”
Grayson says nothing, doesn’t even look at me as he storms from my room. I fall back onto my mattress, feeling even worse than I did a few moments ago.
Fuck my life with a cactus.
Pulling up to the curb, I sit and observe Chance as he kicks the soccer ball around with his son. I get a pang in my heart as I watch them. All of the what-ifs go through my mind. This could’ve been me.
Exhaling a long breath, I exit the car. He’s my last hope, my only remaining connection to Emma.
It’s been two excruciating weeks since I’ve seen her.
Smelled her.
Touched her.
Loved her.
“Barclay,” Chance says when he spots me walking up the driveway.
“Bateman.”
He scoops up the ball before walking to me. “What’s up?” he asks, extending his closed hand to me. I fist pump it.
“I… umm… I don’t want to interrupt your family time,” I reply when I notice Aubrey rise from the blanket she was sitting on, lifting their son into her arms. Pixy, the goat, is grazing on a patch of grass nearby. “I was just wondering if we could talk when you’re free.”