Her expression is one of confusion, and I can’t say I blame her. What I’m doing is entirely unfair, but I have to know.
Her phone rings and both of us jump in surprise.
She pulls out her cell. “I-I have to take this.”
I back off as she presses the phone to her ear.
How could I be so stupid? Her gran is sick, and she’s emotional, and I’m telling her sheneeds to define our relationship after being in her life an entire week?
I kick myself, but I wouldn’t take it back. I have to know.
“Jake?” I hear Ashlyn say and turn to see her face ablaze with anger.
“What?”
“Get out!” she says firmly.
My mouth gapes open, and I try to think of what to say, but it’s clear she doesn’t want a reply.
And I don’t want to hurt her any more than she already is. Maybe she’s angry I’m trying to claim her, or maybe I’m just taxing her.
As much as it hurts me, I leave to go pack my bags.
Chapter 8
Ashlyn
Every part of me hurts. Even the recessed parts of my soul.
I flee to the one person who hasn’t ever betrayed me. The one person who I can say I’ve ever loved.
Gran.
I sit by her bedside, crying more tears than I thought possible. A morbid part of me wonders if one could cry themselves to death by dehydration? I’m certainly making a case for it.
Gran’s eyes flutter open, and I quickly wipe away my tears.
“I’m parched,” she says.
I retrieve her glass from the nightstand. “Here, have some water.”
“I’d much rather it be bourbon.”
“Gran!”
She smirks, but when her gaze meets mine, her lips fall. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Don’t you take me for a fool,” she grunts out. “Now, tell me.”
“It’s just that I thought I had met someone, but he was really just like every other guy I’ve known before.”
“That new groundskeeper?”
“How’d you guess?”
“You rarely leave the house. Who else could it be?”
