“Please,” I beg.
He releases me. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”
“No,” I pull him back down. “Please don’t stop.”
“Allie.”
“Make me forget.” I gently guide his hand to my belly, nodding my head, pleading with my eyes. I should feel embarrassed that I’m shamelessly asking for this. He doesn’t owe me anything. I’ve been nothing but a bitch to him. He has every right to laugh in my face and leave me here crying in the sand.
He doesn’t. He gently glides his hand up my inner thigh and under my dress, moving my underwear to the side, and he does what I ask. He makes me forget. He takes my pain away, if only for a few moments, but it’s enough.
Afterwards, we lay back, looking up at the stars, and it’s quiet. So quiet that I can hear the moment his breathing shifts. The second he drifts off to sleep. It takes a minute, but the shame creeps up my spine, slithering around my back and wrapping around my hips. How could I tell him all that? How could I beg him? Knowing there’s every chance he’ll wake up and realize the mistake he’s made, I move his arm from around my shoulder, pick up my purse, and walk away.
That night has been playing in my mind on repeat for the past several days. What if I had never left? What if I had answered his calls? Would we still be together or were we always meant to end up the way that bonfire had? In ashes, once burning bright and hot, only to end up as dust? I should have known from his name alone that we were headed for disaster. But the thing about ashes? They can disguise themselves as something beautiful, peaceful even. I once saw a photo of homes covered in ashfallfrom a nearby eruption. To the untrained eye, it looked like blankets of snow, but really it was volcanic ash, toxic and destructive. Is that what happened with us? Did I only see what I wanted to see? Did I not look closely enough?
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts, and my mom hops up from the couch to answer it, not bothering to check the peephole first.
“Mom, you have to check who it is,” I sigh. At this point, there are multiple men we’re avoiding.
“It’s just Emory,” she waves me off.
“I brought two gallons.” Emory holds up a brown paper bag that I assume is filled with ice cream.
“Thanks, Em.” I take the bag from her, bring it into the kitchen, and grab three bowls from the cabinet.
“Oh, none for me,” my mom chirps. “I’m just going to take my tea and that book you lent me into the other room.” She bumps her hip against Emory’s and winks.
I blink several times as she practically skips off to the bedroom. “Do I even want to know what book you gave my mom?”
Emory shrugs. “She seemed like she could use a good book boyfriend.”
I narrow my eyes at her, but if anyone knows what my mom is going through, it’s Emory. She was in a similar situation before she got her second chance. Her new beginning. I have to think there’s still hope for my mother, but maybe it’s best she sticks to books for now.
She’s been staying with me for the past few days. Ever since I ran into Ashton’s house like a wild animal and told her we were leaving. We still haven’t heard anything about Mark, so for all we know, he could be looking for her. In the meantime, I feel more comfortable having her with me.
Needless to say, my impromptu trip to Nashville got put on hold. If there was one thing Ashton was right about, it’s that nowis not the time to go there. With everything that happened with my mom, I had completely forgotten that I told Nate he could try to track down my dad. I didn’t think it would happen so quickly, or at all. I was waiting for Nate to come back saying I was chasing a ghost.
I lift the first gallon out of the bag, and blood rushes to my ears.Mint chocolate chip. Memories of that morning with him flood my brain, but I shake them away, placing that one in the freezer.
“Shit,” Emory says as she watches me. “I’m so sorry. I forgot he asked about your favorite flavor.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s this stupid pregnancy brain. I swear I’m losing it.” She looks in the bag, pulling out the other carton. “I brought chocolate peanut butter too.”
I told Emory everything the day I left Ashton still standing in his driveway with his hands in his pockets and pain etched across his face. She’s always known I grew up without a dad, but not the specifics. I told her how he left, about my relationship with Ashton. With my mom’s permission, I also told her about the abuse she endured, including the most recent attack. Then I told her what Nate found out about my dad and everything that happened after.
We both cried and hugged a lot, which is saying something because I’m not a hugger. I know it brought up difficult memories for her too, but I didn’t want to keep it a secret anymore. I’m so tired of secrets. She was sad that I didn’t tell her sooner, especially now knowing why I told her brother about what her ex was doing to her. But she understood.
I bypass the bowls and go straight for the utensil drawer, pulling out two spoons and setting them down next to the ice cream.
“I knew I liked you for a reason,” Emory says. “What are we watching?”
After our talk, I told Em I needed a day to myself to clear my head. That was Sunday, and true to my word, I faxed in a signed resignation letter the following day. I texted Skylar to give her a heads-up and ask her to leave it on Ashton’s desk. I told her that if she didn’t ask any questions, I would explain everything soon. She just wrote back one word: “Okay.”
Now it’s Wednesday, and I need to face the music. Skylar has done nothing but support me since I started this job, and she deserves to know why I left. In person. Not through a text or even on the phone. I can at least give her that.
Before I can answer Emory, there’s a knock at the door. “That must be Skylar,” I tell her. “I asked her over so I could explain everything.” Emory nods her head as she slowly lowers herself onto the couch, grabbing a blanket and shimmying under it.
