I’m nowhere near done. “And for someone whodoesn't wantto do it again, you're sure willing to take the risk, aren’t you? Unless you secretly want things to end. Maybe you’re just toopassive-aggressiveto come out and do what you really want to do.”
It’s a low blow, but I take it anyway because I’m on a roll. “Maybe you want to come out looking like the victim. That’s the role you’re used to playing, right?”
Somewhere, there’s a voice in the back of my head begging me to stop. Screaming that the very thing I didn’t want to happen is happening right here and now before my eyes.
It’s a train wreck, and I’m the conductor, but I lost all control a few miles back. Now, I’m just a helpless passenger, observing the ruin of our relationship.
"Would you quit it, Ashley?” Liam’s voice is loud like mine. His plea echoes off the pavement, replaying the break in his voice, the desperation in his tone. A desperation I see in his eyes, too.
I look away and clench my jaw.
“Look at me, Ashley.”
I do, and the pain I see in his eyes fills me with dread and remorse. But fear is there, too. Fear that—as bad as this is—it could be a whole lot worse. It’s not safe to love someone as much as I love him. Not when he could up and leave me. Decide he was doing‘what was best for me’ because heaven knows I’m not capable of determining that for myself.
“I'm in love with you,” Liam growls. “I’m hoping the timing is right this time and that we get to spend the rest of our lives together. I want that bad enough to address all the crud that could get in our way. I don't just want you for right now, or tomorrow, or even a few months of having a good time. I want you for forever.”
I blink, then drop my gaze, sniffing and blinking back tears. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he really does want to make this work. I know I do, desperately, so why do I keep getting in my own way?
“That is,” Liam adds, sounding deflated now, “if you can handle having conversations that challenge whatever narrative you've fed yourself for all these years.”
I jolt my head up once more, shocked by those few final words. That did it. “You almost had me,” I say, shaking my head in disappointment.
Liam firms his jaw and sets his hands on the car at either side of me, caging me in. “Don’t, Ashley.”
I nudge his wrist with my shoulder. "Move, Liam. Get out of my way. I want to leave."
"Not yet,” he pleads. “Let's have it out. Let's push through it. If you think it's my fault, tell me it's my fault! If you thinkIdid the wrong thing, let's talk about it. I've been trying to talk about this with you since it happened. We can't just ignore it forever."
I feel a mean grin tug at my lips on one side. "Yes, Liam,” I say, “we can because we’re not going to see eye to eye. And I’d rather end things now than discover that you’re just as bad as Ross is.”
The hurt in his eyes says I hit my mark.
“How can you say that?” He backs away like he’s been slapped, letting his arms drop so I can spin around and pull open my car door.
I do just that.
“You’re wrong, Ashley,” he hisses. “I’m nothing like him. But if that’s what you want to believe, then I guess I can’t stop you.”
I climb in behind the wheel, slam the door shut, and turn over the engine.
It isn’t what Iwantto believe, but itiswhat I fear most of all. And if a man like Liam Wheaton can’t be what I need him to be, then what chance do I have with anyone else?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Liam
“I knew those guys were going to steer you astray," Luke says before hurling a bowling ball down the glossy lane. It nicks a single pin enough to take it out, yet Luke finesses a one-eighty and fist pumps like he got a strike.
"Steer me astrayhow?” I challenge. “I didn't do anything because of them except read that…book." I resist the urge to call it a stupid book because I don't think it’s so stupid anymore. Sure, reading it empowered me to take positive steps in Ashley's direction, which has effectively backfired on me, but they were positive steps, nonetheless.
Luke grabs the ball once it jets through the chute and gets into a stance with his eyes set on the nine remaining pins.
“You onlythinkthey didn't have something to do with the whole Ashley thing,” he says, unmoving like a statue. “But why do you think they timed the book the way that they did?” He swings his arm back while taking three long strides and then thrusts the ball forward and down the lane.
It smacks the center pin square on, taking out three and leaving the rest standing on either side. I stare at the great divide as the bar comes down and wipes them all out. That divide symbolizes the recent split between Ashley and me, something I am still not willing to accept.
Sure, she blew up and took off. But it's not like she's going to do what she did last time—run off and marry some dentist that she’ll work for and dedicate the rest of her life to.
