Her brows lifted and there was hope in her eyes.
“You stop fighting.”
thirteen
TALLY
I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you.
— CHARLOTTE BRONTË
Ashley flung her backpack onto the floor so hard that it bounced up and hit me in the shin.
“Oof.” I jumped.
“Sorry.” She flopped into her seat cussing Ashton under her breath. “He found out about the TikTok account and he’s making me take it down. Can you believe that?”
I rubbed my leg, positive it was going to bruise. “I mean, kinda. You were posting videos without his permission.”
“You’re taking his side? I thought he’d be flattered.” She slouched in her chair. “I wish someone would secretly make an entire account dedicated to me.”
I bit back a smirk. But she looked truly hurt. “Count your blessings, Ashley.” I broke out my best British accent to do thePride and Prejudicequote justice. From the 2004 movie that is. “If he liked you, you’d have to talk to him.”
She snickered. “Precisely.” Her accent matched mine. “As it is, I wouldn’t dance with him for all of Derbyshire.”
Together, we whispered, “Let alone the miserable half.”
Ashton walked in, folder between his teeth, a coffee in his casted hand, his textbook in the other, his bag slung over one shoulder. I winced at the sight of him. His nose was a purple-red and both of his eyes were black. The man looked like he’d tried to negotiate a peace treaty between rival gangs.
Ashley’s forehead crinkled. “Do you know what happened to his face?”
“Nope,” I said suspiciously fast. “No idea.”
She blew out her lips. “Well, whatever it was, he probably got what he deserved.”
A lump formed in my throat. No. He most definitely did not. And I needed to make it up to him. Watching Ashton drive away on Saturday, I was sick to my very soul. He’d accused me of not wanting him but nothing could be farther from the truth. I wanted him. Too much. The more I thought about it the more I realized it wasn’t him I was afraid of.
It was me.
Somewhere deep inside, after that kiss, I knew if I let him, he’d have the power to control me if he wanted to. And after having control taken from me in the most traumatic way possible, the thought of letting someone else have that kind of access to me was immobilizing.
But looking at him now, beat to crap all because of me, I wanted to love him. To take care of him. And I wanted him to do the same for me.
I pulled out my phone and looked at the texts Mom had sent after I told her how I’d messed up our date.
Mom: Oh, honey. You need to stop believing the lies in your head. Being loved, even intimately, is a beautiful thing.
Mom: You need to let go and relax into the love of Ashton.
Relax into the love of Ashton.
I played those words through my head over and over. Mom was right. I needed to take a freaking chill pill before I lost him altogether. Needed to show him that I was capable of a relationship and being open to affection and intimacy.
I kept going back to the grounding techniques my therapist had taught me. I wrote in my journal, which always helped. And I reminded myself over and over—Ashton’s a good guy. He won’t take advantage of me.I doubled up on the EMDR sessions my therapist had recommended.
I thought about what Ashton had said to me in my bedroom. About how maybe the universe matched us on Incognito on purpose. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to stop being a cynic and have some faith. Maybe things would finally start going my way.
But two weeks later, sitting on the curb outside Brianna’s apartment complex, I seriously doubted.
