“I wasted your soup,” I say as I lean over the basin.
“I can make more.”
I lift my head and look at him in the mirror. There’s concern written all over his face and perhaps a bit of fear. I want to be angry with him for not telling me about the rose petals and the note, but the intensity of my reaction suggests his decision to keep it from me wasn’t entirely bad.
I feel his hand rest on my hip, and I look down at it in the mirror. The touch isn’t sexual. It’s meant to be comforting, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be comfortable again.
I consider pulling his hand off me and laying into him for keeping secrets, but ultimately he came clean. If I punish him now for telling me the truth, he’ll be more reluctant to do it in the future.
I don’t have the energy to be mad at him anyway. I’m too terrified. Instead of pushing him away, I turn around and throw myself against him. Ash wraps his arms around me as I take deep breaths, refusing to cry.
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask. “Is it too late to go to the police?”
“We can tell the police if you want,” he says. “I took a picture of the bed so we’d have a record.”
We. He says it like this is his problem too.
Then it hits me that he has a picture of the bed. The request to see it jumps to the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back. Part of me wants to see the picture, but a much larger part isn’t prepared to see what some sick fuck did to my bed when I wasn’t there.
I suck in a breath as the other implications hit me. “Oh God.”
“What is it?” he asks.
I shake my head against his chest. “I just realized I need to count my underwear and my, um…toys when I get home.”
When I get home…What the hell am I thinking? I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to go home again after all this.
I pull back from Ash. “Can you come back to my place with me? I need to grab some clothes.”
I let go and move past him into the hall. A few seconds ago, I wasn’t sure my legs would hold me. Now I’m mobilized with urgent purpose.
“I need to call my mother to see if I can stay at her place for a few days,” I say, more to myself than Ash. The words alone threaten to make me queasy again, but I swallow down the new feeling of dread at the thought of having to move back in with my parents. Maybe Celena can put me up for a little while.
I jerk to a stop in the hall as Ash catches my wrist and spins me back around to face him.
“You’re not staying with your parents,” Ash says. “We can go get some of your clothes, but you’re coming back here to stay with me.”
My mouth slowly falls open as I stare up at him. Then I shake my head. “No, I can’t. It’s-”
“It’s non-negotiable,” he interrupts.
“But-”
“Gray, don’t make me tie you to the bed again,” he says.
I snap my mouth shut, although as threats go, I’m not sure that’s an effective one.
“Come on,” Ash says as he pulls me toward the living room. “Let’s get dressed and go pick up some things from your place. Looks like we’re starting the cohabitation part of this relationship early.”
Chapter 42
Ash
I zero in on the goal as I streak down the ice on a breakaway the next night as we play the Maple Leafs at home. I’ve done nothing all game, and I need to get my head on straight. I sense one of the defenders on my heels, but I put him out of my mind and try to focus. I’m one of the fastest skaters in the league, and it’s just me and the goalie.
I shoot the puck high, hoping to put it in over his shoulder, but the fucker manages to get his glove up just in time to deflect the shot. The puck tips up over the top of the goal, and the home crowd groans.
I swear violently. A couple years ago, that’s a shot I’d make ninety-nine times out of a hundred. Now I’m lucky to have a fifty-fifty chance at it. I thought my luck had changed after that last game in Tampa, but apparently not.
