He doesn’t answer, not right away. Three dots appear and then vanish. After a few minutes of staring down at my phone, waiting for a response, I give up, my stomach sinking as I set it down beside me and pull my favorite blanket tighter around myself, finding comfort in the feeling of soft fabric against my skin.
Sebastian said he would wait forever, but maybe Ashton just isn’t that patient. Maybe he got sick of waiting for me, of begging for my attention while I pushed him away.
Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on my door.
I sit up straight on my couch, turning in my seat to frown at it. A nervous apprehension crawls into my belly.
Another knock.
Shrugging off my blanket, I creep quietly to the door, hesitating with my hand over the lock. “Hello?” I call through the wood.
“It’s me, Babygirl,” comes the cheery answer. “Open up!”
Of course. Of course he saw my text as an invitation to come over. Sighing, I disengage the lock and ease the door open.
“Let me guess,” I say, leaning against the door frame and eyeing the bundle in his arms. “Takeout?”
Ashton grins, and my heart melts a little seeing it. He has such a charming smile, even with the bruises littering his face. Fuck, I missed him, I really did.
“Actually,” he says, hoisting the basket he’s carrying a little higher. “A picnic. I was so excited you texted that I maybe went a bit overboard.”
“You know, byare you free,I meantare you free to talk,” I try to explain, eyeing the basket and frowning.
“Talks are always better in person!” he insists. “I thought, you know, maybe if you’re feeling up to it, we could go to the park? Just to chat. Or…whatever you want to do. You call the shots.”
It’s still Ash. The eagerness, the enthusiasm, all that’s exactly how I remember. But something is different. He’s muted, just a little, his smile strained, like he’s holding back.
“The park?” I repeat with a little laugh. I poke my head outside, looking around at the dark sky above us. “Ash, it’s nearly nine. We can’t just go sit in the park. It’s not… It’s dangerous out there at night.”
He lowers the basket, studying me too closely.
“Syd.” He looks a little sad as he holds my gaze. “I promise you there won’t be anything in that park more dangerous than me.”
There’s no pride in his voice, no cocky assurances. It’s just a fact. He watches me, after he says it, measuring my response.
He’s not trying to hide it. Not pretending to be anything he’s not. He’s still Ashton. The man who put away my dishes, who tucked me into bed and kissed me on the forehead. A man with no fear of being in a park at night, because there’s nothing out there scarier than him. It’s up to me to reconcile both those parts of him.
Just like it’s up to me to decide how much I’m willing to forgive him, right now. To decide if I want to fight him, or fight for him.
I take a deep breath and try to tuck some of my anger away. I can’t keep living in the in-between with them. It’s not what I want.
“Okay,” I say, hesitating in the doorway. “Let me get a jacket.”
Ashton practically vibrates with excitement.
He helps me down the stairs when I get back, holding my hand to steady me while still carrying the picnic basket.
“What happened to your face?” I ask, staring up at the bruises.
“You should see the other guy!” Ashton laughs, letting go of my hand to gesture at his fading black eye. “Actually, no, you shouldn’t, he looks fine. I got thrashed.”
“Your fight,” I say, suddenly remembering. My stomach sinks a little. “The one you were texting me about. I missed it, didn’t I?”
He shrugs.
I wonder if he realizes how much he wears his emotions on his sleeve. I don’t miss the hurt that fills his eyes before he tries to hide it.
“It’s okay, you’re not the only one,” he tells me, forcing a smile. “Doc made me realize that I’ve been pretty unfair to you, lately. I shouldn’t have pressured you so much about it.”
