His Adam’s apple bobs. “No,” he says, nostrils twitching. “It was only the scholarship. I checked in, made sure you two were okay. But that was it. I had very little power to impact your lives in the way I wish I could have.”
I stare at him for a long time, trying to determine if he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t back down. So, I reach forward to take the award letter back, crumple it into a ball, and throw it in the trash.
Because I wish I’d never accepted it.
I wish I could somehow give it back.
“Youhaveearned it,” Ashon tells me as I slide off the stool. I can’t sit any longer. I’m too anxious—wound too tight. “I’ve watched my family unravel and become ghosts of themselves for what Adam did. For what hecontinuesto do by blowing up his life. You and your sister—”
“Stop!” I cut him off, glaring at him. “Stop talking about me and my sister. Stop saying that your brother ruined your family’s lives. At least youhaveone still.”
He pales at the comment.
Thomas walks into the room, putting a hand on my lower back as he stops beside me. “I think we need to take a break.”
“No,” I tell him adamantly. “I’m not sure I need one. I think I’ve heard all there is to. I get it, Ashton. Your brother royally screwed you. He screwed all of us. But I don’t need you picking up the pieces for me. Neither does my sister. We are more than capable of doing it ourselves. We’ve been doing it for years, no matter how hard it’s been. Even the thought of someone who knows Adam trying to make up for his mistakes is…” I shiver, and nausea creeps up my throat. “It makes me sick to my stomach. Blood money or not, it’s all the same. And I don’t want you, nor do I need you, in my life. I want nothing to do with you or your family or their handouts.”
Color comes back to his face, but barely. “I understand,” he says quietly.
I hope he does, because I’m not sure I have the energy left to get him to. “From here on out, I want privacy. I want to be removed from whatever vocabulary you use. I’m not your responsibility or your problem, and I’m sure as hell not your brother’s.”
Thomas’s hand presses harder against the skin on my back in comfort.
Ashton clears his throat. “Okay,” he agrees, nodding once. His eyes go from me to Thomas, then down to where his client’s hand is touching me. “But I have one thing to say, and it’s important.”
I can feel Thomas’s fingers flex.
“Whatever this is,” he tells me, gesturing toward Thomas and me, “is not going to end well. You, of all people, know the circumstances of who Tom is and what he brings to the table. I don’t need to remind you about his wife or the very public life he has. All I’m saying is that if you want privacy, you won’t get it if you’re seen with him.”
It’s not a threat or warning. His tone is cautious yet calm, simply delivering a message woven in truth. Because, despite what I’m asking him, he still feels guilty. He still cares enough to make sure I don’t make mistakes.
But it would be my mistake to make.
Thomas says, “Ashton,” in a low tone.
His manager raises his palms. “You and I both know I’m right, Tom.”
He takes a step back and looks at me with a softer expression. “For whatever it’s worth, I am sorry for what happened. For all of it. I know that doesn’t change a damn thing, but it’s still worth being said.”
That’s all he says before walking to the door, stepping on a cat toy that squeaks under his shoe. It gives him pause, making him frown.
Before he can ask Thomas why he has cat toys in his house, the man beside me says, “We’ll talk later,” in dismissal.
Ashton looks like he wants to say something, but shakes his head and chooses not to. He leaves us, not looking back as he closes the door behind him.
I stare down at Oreo’s mouse toys.
Thomas asks, “Are you all right?”
I peek up at him through my lashes. “No.”
All he does is nod, pulling me in for a hug and resting his chin on the top of my head. He doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t try to make it better. Doesn’t press me for how I’m feeling.
We stand like that in silence for a long time.
My arms fold around his waist and stay there, not tight or loose. I soak in the warmth and hard muscle under his clothes and rest my cheek against his pecks. Closing my eyes, I breathe him in and find myself relaxing for the first time since the Uber dropped me off.
I break the silence first. “He’s right,” I say, hating how the words taste on my tongue. “If there’s anything I want more than peace of mind and independence, it’s privacy. And I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know why this is so…” My arms tense before dropping back down to my sides, and I take a step back to put distance between us. “I don’t know why I’m doing this. I know I don’t have a lot to lose, but the thought of losing what little I do have to my name…”
