Page 98 of Ruthless Regret

"But the worst part," he continues, his voice dropping to barely more than a whisper, "was the loneliness. Even surrounded by people, you're completely alone. No one to trust, no one to turn to. Just you and your thoughts, day after day, year after year."

Tears prick at my eyes, and I reach out and take his hand. He stiffens for a moment, then relaxes, his fingers curling around mine.

"I'm so sorry, Zain," The words are woefully inadequate for the pain I've caused him.

He's quiet for a long moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is thick.

"I don't know how to live in this world, Ashley. Everything feels too big, too open. Too ... free."

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

ZAIN

Ashley's gripon my hand tightens, her thumb brushing gently back and forth over my knuckles. The simple gesture sends a jolt through me, equal parts comforting and unsettling.

"You'll figure it out," she whispers. "It'll take time, but you will."

I want to believe her. I desperately want to trust in the certainty of her words. But years of anger and suspicion are hard to let go of.

We lapse into silence, the darkness of the room wrapping around us like a cocoon. I'm acutely aware of her presence beside me, of the warmth of her body so close to mine. Her breathing gradually slows and evens out as she drifts off to sleep, and I lie still, listening to the soft sounds of her inhales and exhales. For once, the quiet doesn't feel dangerous. It's almost ... peaceful.

I turn my head slightly, able to make out the outline of her face in the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains. She looks relaxed now, the worry lines smoothed away, and my mind drifts back to our conversation earlier. I've never talked about my time in prison like that before, never let anyone seehow deeply it affected me. But with Ashley, the words just came pouring out.

I flex my fingers, and discover they're still intertwined with hers. I should pull away, put some distance between us. But I can't bring myself to let go.

She shifts in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent, and her body turns toward me. I freeze, unsure what to do. Part of me wants to wrap my arms around her, to offer comfort. Another part screams at me to get up and leave before I do something I'll regret.

So, I try to focus on why we're here—to uncover the truth about Jason and Louisa's murders. To clear my name once and for all. Ashley is just a means to an end. Nothing more.

But as she nestles closer, her head coming to rest on my shoulder and her arm slides over my waist, I can't ignore the way my heart rate picks up. I close my eyes, willing my body not to react. But it's a losing battle.

Memories of our encounter a couple of days ago in the living room flash through my mind—her skin under my hands, the taste of her lips, the sounds she made when I ...

No. I can't go there. Not now. Not ever again.

But my traitorous body has other ideas. Ashley's leg brushes against mine, and even with the sheets between us, the contact sends sparks racing along my nerves.

I grit my teeth, trying to think of anything else.

Cold showers.

Baseball statistics.

The mind-numbing boredom of my prison cell.

It's no use. With every soft breath that ghosts across my neck, my resolve weakens. I'm hyper aware of every point where our bodies touch, of the curves pressed against my side.

I should leave. Go back to the bathroom, and sleep in the tub where it's safe. Where I can't do anything stupid.

But I don't move. I lie there, torn between desire and common sense, as the night stretches on.

Ashley stirs. Her breathing changes, becoming more rapid, and a small whimper escapes her lips, her body tensing.

"No. Please, no." Her soft whimper breaks the silence.

She's dreaming. Another nightmare, by the sound of it, and I lift a hand to wake her, then hesitate. I’m not sure whether I should wake her or let it run its course.

Don’t they say not to disturb people who are having a nightmare? No, wait, that’s sleepwalking.

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