Page 9 of A Little More Hope

“You been living here long?” Ashton asked.

What? Oh. “Just over a month.”

“You don’t get out much, huh?” he asked turning to face me.

I smiled. “Not much. I should get out more, I know.”

“So why don’t you?” Good question, and one I should have an easy answer to but found difficult to find the words for. Why didn’t I get out more? Why did I hole up in the house rather than explore the area? Why move from imprisoning myself in my apartment to doing the same thing in a beach house by the sea?

The view was prettier, I guess, though the railings on the deck may as well have been bars on a cage for how far I traveled.

Ashton studied me for a few seconds. “You know if it helps to have someone with you when you go out, I’m gonna be here for the foreseeable future, so will have loads of free time.” My heart thumped, thumped, thumped against my ribs. “And I’d love to show you around, and for me to get reacquainted with the town again after being away for so long.”

“No, I’m good, thank you.”

A look of disappointment passed across his face, but he swiftly recovered. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have overstepped.”

“It’s okay,” I replied with a sigh. “It’s complicated.”

He looked thoughtful at my reply. “Do you live here permanently?” he asked instead, deciding to leave well enough alone.

“No.”

“Are you staying long?”

How long was a piece of string? “Awhile.”

He took time to answer, eventually agreeing almost absently. “Good. That’s good.”

It was?

“Here let me give you my number in case you need anything.” I didn’t, as most…well, all of what I needed I already got delivered. Groceries, takeout, prescriptions, but I liked that he wanted to help, be neighborly since we were living alongside each other.

I took his number. I didn’t message him or give him mine, and he didn’t question me about it. He got up from the couch, his body fluid as he stood, and the same sense of panic from earlier wrapped its cold tendrils around my senses.

I didn’t want him to go.

Why didn’t I want him to go?

“You, um, want to chat again tomorrow?” I asked, aiming to keep my voice neutral, not wanting to sound desperate, even if I was, but trying to remain nonchalant. “If you’re not busy, that is?”

His smile lifted me. “I’d like that,” he said softly, his eyes warming. They twinkled, and God they were the most amazing green. “Only if you’re not busy either,” he teased and I laughed, realizing this was the first natural one I’d given since my assault.

“Obviously, I’ll need to check with my PA.”

His turn to laugh. “Obviously.” He walked toward the door and was halfway through when he stopped and turned, looking at me over his shoulder. “My friends call me Ash.”

“Ash,” I repeated, the warm feeling in me growing at the inferred intimacy of being able to call him a friend.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he confirmed before he disappeared.

I remained where he’d left me, not moving until a long time after, staring out at the sea and sky, wanting to keep the connection, to savor what we’d shared, and already counting down the minutes until I’d see my friend again.

Chapter Four

Ash

The Bayside Bar and Grill had changed considerably since I’d last set foot in Melrose Bay. Previously, the cavernous room was dark and dingy and rough, a dive only locals frequented, and the main reason they loved it was no tourist would ever set foot in the place. If they did, they never stayed long.

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