Asher keeps his distance, his eyes like a hawk, watching me from afar. The wounded look on his pretty face makes me feel sick to the stomach. I really hurt him. I wish I could take back those words and just go back to him groveling. It was a lot easier when I was the one pissed.
“I’ll walk you out,” Jagger says to Georgina, placing a hand to her back.
“Nice to meet you, Dahlia.” Georgina smiles at me and offers a wave.
“You too, thanks for all of this.” I grin back, wanting to say and the history lesson about the boys, but refrain.
“Anytime, girl. Maybe next time the boys will bring you into the salon.” She smirks their way. “Bye, boys, try and behave, will you.” They say their goodbyes and then Jagger walks her to the front of the house, his face softer than usual. Even he adores her, and I can see why.
Cruz stands in front of me, his eyes meeting mine. “Is it really you in there, little darlin’, or have you run away and got a body double to step into your place?” His voice is light and playful.
“Cruz.” I huff out a breath as I roll my eyes, knowing I don’t have time for his games right now. I need to fix things with Ash.
He looks back over his shoulder at Asher. “Yeah, she’s still in there.” He chuckles.
I move into the kitchen where Ash is sitting at the island, still keeping my distance from him, but close enough I can feel thetension coming off him. “What do you think, Ash?” I ask, trying to get something out of him. Anything.
Asher shoves his stool away, the legs screeching against the floor before it topples over as he stands and walks off in silence.
Fuck. I go after him. “Can we talk?”
“I have nothing to say to you,” he growls.
I flinch back. Damn, that’s harsh for him. I reach for him, taking his hand in mine. “Please,” I whisper, not sure what else to do.
He flicks his eyes back to me. They scan my face. “You look the part.”
I offer a soft smile back at him, hoping it will warm him up a little. “Ash, I’m so sorry for what I said. It was stupid.”
He doesn’t look directly in my eyes, not like normal. He has an icy stare that washes over me. “It was what you thought. That’s how you see me, good for fucking, nothing else.”
My heart sinks. Oh, fuck, he’s really taken this to heart. “No, it’s not.”
He pulls out of my grip as if I have burned him and keeps striding toward the gym.
I glance back at Cruz, and he motions for me to follow Ash. But I’m not so sure I should. It’s like being locked up in this safe house together is amplifying everyone’s emotions or something, and I’m not sure how to handle it. Asher is normally so cool about everything; I never expected my comment to cut him so deep.
The gym door slams, and I flinch.
Cruz’s hands come to my hips, his lips to my neck where the flower tattoo now is. “He’s hurting, baby, you need to make it better.”
“Yeah, I screwed up.” I spin in Cruz’s arms, getting an idea. “Would whisky and ice cream fix this?”
His lips twist at the sides. “You can try, probably wouldn’t make it worse.”
I pull out of his grip and move into the kitchen. “I wish you lot came with a user manual. It would make shit like this a lot easier,” I mutter almost to myself.
Cruz bursts out laughing. “Right back at you, baby.”
That earns him a glare from me as I place the ice cream tub on the counter. “I’m easy to read,” I huff.
Cruz pulls two bowls from the cupboard and places them on the counter, his arms wrapping around me. “You, my little darlin’, are more complicated than anyone else I know.” He kisses my cheek.
His comment sinks beneath my skin. Is he right and I’m the one making this situation hard? I don’t think I am. They keep on bossing me around and expecting me to keep up with them when I don’t know what’s going on half the time. But then they tell me exactly how they feel about me, and I shut them down or push them away with a flyaway comment. Maybe I am the problem. I sigh heavily as I scoop the ice cream into the two bowls. I know I have issues when it comes to the mushy stuff. I spent so damn long trying to protect myself, it’s ingrained deep. How can I protect myself and not get hurt here if I let myself fall for them? I can’t. “He told you what he said to me, didn’t he?”
Cruz moves to lean into the counter so we’re facing each other. “Asher has never done this before. He’s not used to rejection. He’s better at being the one to, you know, get them to move on.”
“I didn’t reject him,” I whisper.
