Page 34 of A Little More Hope

“Hi.” I nodded at them both. The redhead guy’s eyes dropped to Ash’s fingers encircling my wrist, an interested look on his face. Ash didn’t let go.

“We’re off to the beach to look for some arty shit for him,” Cam jerked a finger at Flynn. “So we decided we’d swing by to see if you wanna go out Saturday night?”

“We’re looking for sea glass and driftwood, asshole,” Flynn retorted.”

“That’s what I said,” Cam replied, grinning at his friend before looking at Ash again. “Anyway, a new local band has their first gig at the Bay, so we’re gonna head down there to check it out.” He jiggled his eyebrows, confirming to me what he meant by checking it out.

Jealousy, hot and savage, burned in my stomach at the thought of Ash going out and possibly picking up another guy, promptly followed by relief when I remembered he was currently staying with me so was unlikely to bring them there. Then jealousy again at the likelihood he’d stay over at the guy’s place if he needed somewhere to be intimate in private.

What the hell?

Ash briefly glanced my way, hesitating.

“Is the invitation just for Ash, or can I tag along too?” The words fell out of my mouth before I fully registered the importance of my question. As if confirming the rashness of my statement, Ash’s eyes had gone comically wide.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he managed to say.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Flynn replied. “The more the merrier.”

Ash glared at his friend, who appeared unrepentant.

“Mase,” Ash warned, but I cut him off by linking our fingers and squeezing them.

“Later,” I murmured against his ear. He turned to me, his eyes scanning my face, worry in their depths as he agreed, though I reckoned the discussion was far from over.

“Sure, we can get an extra ticket, no problem.” Cam turned to Flynn. “Remind me to ask Davey for a booth, will you? Or I’ll forget otherwise.”

“Cool,” Flynn replied, grin widening, his gaze fixed on me. “So seven thirty Saturday, yeah?”

“Great.” My voice came out normal, calm, but, inside, my pulse pounded in my veins, and a whooshing noise filled my ears as the reality of what I’d agreed to sank in.

The men turned around and left as quick as they had arrived. As soon as they were out of earshot, Ash rounded on me, and I inwardly tensed.

“Are you nuts?” he shouted, making me wince, the sound loud in the confined space. “You can’t go out in your condition.” He threw his hands up in disgust. “Are you nuts?” he repeated.

“I’m not pregnant, Ash,” I deadpanned, and if looks could kill I’d be a very dead man.

“Don’t get fucking smart with me,” he snapped, scowling at me, totally pissed and by the look on his face, scared too. The belief he cared enough to worry about me and my situation had my heart missing a couple of beats, and a warm fuzzy feeling spreading throughout my chest.

I studied him as he paced to and fro, eventually stepping in front of him, halting his movement. “Speak to me, Ash.”

He ran a hand over his hair, the dust he released scattering around him. “I’m worried about you, okay?”

“I got that part.” I squeezed his arm. “But I need you to tell me why?”

He hesitated for a moment. “What if going out sets you back days or weeks even? Yes, you’ve taken a few steps on the road to recovery by walking along the beach, but that’s all.” Ash raised his hand to cup my cheek. “I don’t want you to push yourself more than you need to, or think you need to do this for me. You need to do this for you, Mason, not for anyone else, otherwise it’ll never work, and you’ll never get better.”

“I get what you’re saying. I do, but what’s the point of not testing the boundaries I’ve subconsciously set? Of not pushing past those boundaries to grow stronger, less afraid?”

He closed his eyes for a second, calming himself, easing his tension. When he opened his eyes again, he seemed a lot more relaxed and in control. “And you’re sure going to a crowded bar is the best way to do this?”

I grimaced. “Not really, no.” I raised my hand when he opened his mouth to interrupt. “But I’ve got to start somewhere, right?”

He was back to looking at me like I was psychotic. “If you wanted to start somewhere,” he twitched his fingers in air quotes. “Don’t you think it might be better if you—oh, I don’t know—begin with something small? Maybe a walk along the main street, or going inside one of the smaller shops or restaurants rather than being crushed in a confined space with a load of people pushing and shoving and bumping into you? People drinking and being loud?”

Well, when he put it like that…

“In for a dime,” I mumbled.

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