And then, prick that he already knew himself to be, Ash spun on his heel and left his brother staring wide-eyed as he strode away.
“Ash! Come on!” Boone called after him. “You wanna hit me again? I’ll give you one freebie, no retaliation!”
Ash replied by holding up his hand and offering his brother a one-fingered salute.
“Are you staying at the guesthouse? I thought Eli said…” And then it all must have clicked because that was where Boone’s words vanished.
Four years ago, Ash Murphy’s career was on the rise.
And four years ago, he let the curated mix of bullshit and truth set fire to the best thing that had ever happened to him because he was too stupid to recognize the best thingwasn’this career.
“I fucked up,” he’d told his brothers when they ambushed him with a joint video call after the announcement of his marriage.
“You didn’t even invite Mom and Dad,” Elihad replied. “You didn’t eventellthem before it happened.”
“Or us,” Boone added.
“We eloped,” Ash explained. “It all happened so fast.”
But Boone and Eli had both called bullshit. They were the only people who knew that the woman in Ash’s bed the morning of the big announcement wasn’t his blushing bride. They were the only ones who knew that the Ashton Murphy they’d grown up with would never exclude his family from a family affair.
Except by then, he wasn’t that Ashton Murphy anymore. And rather than admit what they already knew, he played along with the curated picture of his life that had been created for him—and in doing so had pushed the people who mattered most so far that they’d stopped trying to find a way back in.
He took his time heading back to the Murphy property, soaking in the solace on the stretch of country road that connected Meadow Valley’s town square to the ranch where he’d spent more than half his life. No one gave a shit who he was in Meadow Valley, and for the first time since he’d had the audacity to think that there was something bigger for him outside the confines of his hometown, he enjoyed it.
“Change of plans!” Ash declared as he strode into the guesthouse, not even sure Willow was there,considering he’d slipped out after she’d gone for another ride on Holiday. But when an idea struck, he needed to say it out loud before he forgot it. The same went for writing songs.
Speaking of which… Willowwashome, sitting on the far arm of the couch in a black tank top and jeans, her bare feet resting on the cushion as she fingered the frets on her guitar and strummed one chord and then another, her brows furrowed as she stared at her instrument.
“You writing without me?” he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Though this time he exercised caution so he didn’t reopen the cut again.
“Change of what plans?” Willow countered, glancing up to meet his gaze. “Jesus, Ash!” In one swift move, she tossed the guitar onto the couch and strode across the room, stopping short when she likely found herself standing closer to her new roommate than she wanted. She fidgeted with the bottom of her tank before crossing her arms and glaring at him. “What was it this time? A midday bar brawl? A throwdown with a photographer who dared to get too close to the great Ashton Murphy?”
He flinched but then did his best to school his expression. “Why don’t you tell me what you really think of me, Wills.” He cleared his throat. “I meanWillow.”
Her jaw tightened. “Only Colt gets to call me that.”
Ash nodded once. “I know. It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
Though in his head he remembered the first time the nickname had rolled off his tongue.
“Okay… That’s so weird. That’s what my brother, Colt, calls me,” she’d told him.
“Oh,” Ash had replied. “Then I won’t—”
“No,” Willow interrupted. “It reminds me of home…the name. And I think maybe I like you reminding me of home too.”
He was pretty sure home was the last thing he reminded her of now.
“So?” she asked, bringing him back to the present. “Are you going to tell me who you got into a fight with or not?”
Ash shrugged. “Does thewhoreally matter?”
“I guess it doesn’t.” Willow sighed. “Are you going to tell me about this change of plans?”
He rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen, grabbing a much-needed glass of water and downing the whole thing before answering her.
“Your terms with Sloane…” he began. “You choose the photos, you post them, no disclosed location, and no mention of a duet, right?”
