Bash has the quiet panic of a trapped animal all over his face. He’s wide-eyed, silent, and his shoulders are drawn up tight. His little hands are pressed against his knees, fingers twitching, pleading with his eyes for permission to bolt.
My baby.
“Let him go, Ashley.” I demand through gritted teeth.
A fake innocence clings to her as she feigns surprise at my arrival. But her eyes betray nothing but the same smug glint from the bar. The same knowing smile she wore, convinced she held the upper hand.
“I’m just spending a little time with him,” she says lightly, brushing hair from Bash’s forehead. He flinches. Her voice is sweet, almost sing-song. “We were talking about how different things would be if you weren’t around.”
Bash stiffens. I see the sudden jolt in his small frame, a silent hit from something he clearly feels.
She’s messing with his head.
“Don’t do this,” I say, keeping my voice low, even.Don’t let her rattle you.“He doesn’t understand what’s going on. He’s scared.”
Ashley tilts her head, that condescending angle saved for things found to be ridiculous. “Is he?” she says, all wide-eyedmockery. She picks at the shoulder of his shirt, brushing away some imaginary lint, the way a mother might. But she’s not. She never will be. “Or is he just confused because everything’s been so unfair?”
My jaw clenches so tight my teeth hurt.
“You want to come at me? Fine. Come at me. But involving Bash—what the hell is wrong with you?”
She rises slightly from the bench, just enough to shift position, but not enough to let him go. Her arm stays firm around him, the way someone might hold onto a possession they know they’re not supposed to have.
“You don’t get it,” she says, her voice hardening. “You never did. I didn’t just want Andrew. Ilovedhim. And he never even gave me a chance. Because ofyou.”
I step closer, hands trembling at my sides.
“Ashley, my relationship with Andrew is over,” I say, careful with every word. Bash is right there. He’s listening. “Whatever this is in your head—it’s not real. It never was.”
Her laugh breaks apart, brittle and jagged.
“He wants you,” she hisses. “Always has. Perfect Sable. The one with the business, and the brains, and the beautiful little boy.”
Her hand slides over Bash’s hair again and I see his lip tremble. A flicker of panic flashes in his eyes. I go cold. Ice in my veins. Cement in my limbs. Rage in my bones.
Her hands don’t ask. They take. Wrapping around him with the confidence of someone who already owns the ending.
“You ruined him for me,” she whispers, each syllable laced with veneration and resentment in equal measure. “He told me you were the best woman he ever knew. Do you know what that does to someone? Hearing that? After he’s already been inside you?”
Every muscle in my body goes tight at what Bash might hear.
“Let. Him. Go.”
Her eyes don’t see me. They’re blown wide and wild, staring straight through me at some imagined elsewhere. A world she’s rewritten in her favor. One where I never existed. One where she got the man, the house, the child.
“I could’ve given him a child, too,” she murmurs, voice thin and trembling. “I would’ve given him everything. But you’re in the way. You and your son—”
Her hand creeps lower.
Bash jerks in her grip, a soft, startled sound escaping him like he still doesn’t understand what’s happening. But I do.
She’s about to do something I can’t come back from.
Somethingshewon’t come back from.
The sound that comes from her chest next is feral. A broken screech of something unraveling all at once: pain, delusion, and desperation snapping free.
His eyes go wide—round and confused.
