She went quiet then, thoughtful. “My dad also didn’t want me,” she added after a moment. “I think that does something to you. Makes you desperate enough to take love wherever you can.”
Her words echoed inside me, hitting something raw and exposed.
Because they sounded too much like my own fears. Like the thing I had been trying not to name.
That Claire had chosen me not because I was enough, but because she did not know how to ask for more.
Chapter 65
Ethan
The alcohol loosened the last of my restraint.
I started crying.
It surprised us both.
My breath hitched, the sound rough and ugly, and I could not stop. Years of charm and deflection and easy smiles collapsed in on themselves.
Ashley’s eyes widened. She moved closer without hesitation, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “Everything is fine, you’re just overwhelmed.”
Her voice was soft. Steady. She held me like I was something of value instead of a disappointment.
The gratitude that flooded me was immediate and overwhelming. I leaned into her without thinking, my head dropping to her shoulder. I could smell her perfume, sweet and warm, different from Claire but comforting in its own way.
I pressed my face into the hollow of her neck, breathing her in like air after being underwater too long.
My tears dampened her skin. My breath hitched against her. I felt her shiver in response.
I did not know who moved first.
I only knew that suddenly she was closer, that her hand was at my back, that her mouth was near my ear.
For a few suspended seconds, it felt like only the two of us existed in that room. Two people who had spent their lives ruining good things. Two people who were wary of happiness.
The kiss was not gentle.
It was desperate and clumsy, edged with pain. Teeth knocked. Breath tangled. There was no tenderness in it, only need and fear colliding without grace.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice told me to stop. That this was wrong. That this would destroy everything.
But I had already spent the week convincing myself that everything would fall apart eventually anyway.
I did not remember deciding to move to the guest room.
I only remembered that I never crossed the threshold of the bedroom Claire and I shared. Even in that state, I could not bring myself to take this there.
What followed was frantic and sharp, two people pressing against each other with more force than care. It was not comfort. It was escape.
And then the door opened.
The sound was small. Almost nothing.
But it cut through everything.
Claire stood there.
