He’s Ash Ryder. He’s kissed more people in a year than I’ve probably spoken to. Maybe this was just another Tuesday to him. Maybe I’m the only one stuck here, breathing too fast, trying not to melt under the weight of everything unsaid.
I drag my eyes back to the book in my lap, heart hammering.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. Don’t—
I look at him.
He catches it, of course. His mouth twitches slightly—like he knows exactly what I’m thinking and is already preparing to tease me for it.
I snap my head back toward the book and focusvery hardon a sentence I’ve already read six times.
Liam cracks open a can of something fizzy and squints at Ash. “So… are you gonna tell me why you really showed up, or was this just a donut delivery?”
Ash, who’s still lounging on the couch beside me with the same annoyingly relaxed energy he’s had all day, leans back and exhales through his nose. “I was going to talk to you in private.”
At that, his eyes flick toward me—brief, guarded, but enough to make my stomach dip.
I sit up a little straighter. “I can leave if—”
“No,” Liam interrupts, waving a hand between us. “She’s fine. Olive’s solid.”
Ash’s expression doesn’t change, but something in his posture shifts. He studies me for half a beat longer, like he’s measuring the weight of Liam’s words.
Then he shrugs and runs a hand through his hair.
“Alright. Fine,” he says. “But this doesn’t leave this room.”
I nod, trying not to look too curious.
Ash leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m being sued.”
Liam straightens, the casual air gone instantly. “Wait—what?”
“Backstage incident. I wasn’t even there when it happened. Some jackass trashed a dressing room during one of my shows—knocked over lighting gear, ruined equipment, security footage is inconclusive. The venue’s blaming me, probably because my name draws the bigger settlement.”
“Jesus,” Liam mutters.
Ash nods. “My lawyer says it’s going to get ugly before it gets better. I’ve already had three brands pull out of upcoming campaigns just from the rumors.”
“And the new deal?” Liam asks.
“That’s the other thing.” Ash exhales again and rubs the back of his neck. “Management’s been circling this family-friendly partnership with a huge wellness brand. It’s clean money. Long-term. But I’m too much of a liability right now.”
“So you’re trying to look... safer,” Liam says slowly.
Ash gives a wry smile. “Less ‘wrecking hotel rooms,’ more ‘buys organic produce at farmers markets.’”
I can’t help it—I snort.
Both of them glance at me, and I lift my hands. “Sorry. It’s just—thatversion of you is very hard to picture.”
Ash arches a brow. “You don’t think I scream wholesome domesticity?”
“Not unless donuts count as a food group.”
He huffs out a small laugh, then looks away. His voice drops lower, more serious. “I just... needed to talk to someone about it. Everything’s been nonstop pressure lately. From management, press, lawyers—hell, even my agent’s voice stresses me out now.”
I stay silent on the couch, not wanting to intrude. But Ash glances at me briefly, then back at Liam.
