“I bet it’s nice,” I say, “having all your siblings together again for the summer.”
“Yeah,” Ashton says softly, dabbing his fingers with a napkin. “It is.”
He chews slowly, his gaze suddenly dropping to a random swirl in the wood grain. His jaw works in tight, measured movements, fingers fidgeting with his fork.
“You okay?” I ask.
He looks up like he’s forgotten where he is. He blinks a few times and worries his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Can I ask you a question?”
I shrug. “Anything.”
He swallows. “If we’re going to do this… dating thing,” he says, voice low and unsure, “I want to know about your past. I’ve heard a rumor that you have some kind of criminal record.” He draws in a breath. “And I know it’s probably not even true, but—”
“It’s true,” I cut in.
He blinks at me, clearly surprised. “Oh.”
I clear my throat, settling my hands in my lap. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Some house party. Cops showed up. I had a bag of weed in my pocket.” I roll my eyes. “This was 2012—before it was legal in Illinois. I spent thirty days in jail. The judge went easy on me since I’d just turned eighteen.”
Ashton stares at me for a moment, blinking.
Then he bursts out laughing.
“Fuckingweed?” he wheezes. “The town rumor mill has you pegged as a murderer. Or like—some kind of mob boss.”
I snort. “Sorry to disappoint.”
He shakes his head, grin spreading slow and bright, dimples flashing. “Why didn’t you just shut it down? The rumors?”
I shrug, forcing nonchalance into my shoulders. “People can believe whatever they want. The ones who matter know who I reallyam.” I tilt my head, smirking. “Besides… I kind of like being the town’s resident bad boy.”
He rolls his eyes. “My dad believes those rumors, you know. Pretty sure he thinks I’ve gone into business with a serial killer.”
My jaw tightens. “Your dad can believe whatever he wants. I don’t care what he thinks.” I hold his gaze. “I care whatyouthink, Ash.”
The teasing fades from his expression. “I don’t think you’re a serial killer,” he says gently. “Or a mob boss. Or even a convincing bad boy, honestly. You’re far too sweet for any of that.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Well, don’t tell anyone. I gotta maintain my reputation.”
He studies me for a second longer. “You really don’t care what anyone thinks?”
“Nope.” I drop my gaze to my plate, mindlessly twirling my fork. “I had a reputation growing up too. My childhood was… chaotic. My dad always had girlfriends cycling in and out. None of them stuck around long enough for me to get attached. People knew him as the town’s notorious bachelor.” I shrug. “And I was the kid he got stuck with.”
His brows rise. “Stuck with?”
I rub the back of my neck. “After my mom died, the court gave him full custody. Even though he’d barely been present in my life before the accident.” A dry, humorless laugh slips out. “He never let me forget I was an obligation. Something forced on him. Something he never wanted.”
Ashton goes still. “Troy…”
“It’s fine,” I say automatically, even though it’s not. “He stepped up. Put a roof over my head. Paid for school. Did what he was legally obligated to do.” I swallow past the thickness in my throat. “He just made sure I understood it was temporary. I was on my own the second I turned eighteen.”
“Do you still talk to him?”
I toy with the silver chain around my neck, the cool metal biting into my fingertips. “Not really. We do the polite phone call thing—holidays, birthdays. Surface-level updates. That’s about it. I don’t care to have much of a relationship beyond that.”
Ashton’s mouth pulls into a frown. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine not having my dad in my life. That’s really sad.”
