Page 61 of Ashley & the A-Listers

The lines around her eyes… softened.

“I know things are… weird. But no matter what, I would’ve been there for you through that. I wish I’d gotten your message, and I’m sorry. I loved her, too.”

Ashley’s espresso gaze darted away, and she closed her eyes for a split second before they leapt to his.

“Would you like to see some photos of her?”

Dylan nodded before he could think twice.

Ashley sighed and adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “Do you remember where I live?”

She still lived there?

“Of course.”

As they walked through the parking lot together, she seemed to glow even amongst the street lights. In the gym, she seemed so larger-than-life. Here, just walking, she was… Ashley.

“Guess I can’t tease you for being short anymore,” he said softly.

Ashley shrugged. “Sucks to suck.”

Dylan bit down on his smile and shook his head, a familiar affection blooming in his chest. He tamped it down as he walked her to her car, and Ashley gave him the address just in case, but he didn’t need it.

The drive was smooth, and she was easy to follow… toward a place he once knew like the back of his hand.

Dylan sucked in a deep breath as they pulled in. It was the same house.

The house he’d practically grown up in.

It hit him like a sucker punch to the solar plexus, and he had to get it to-fucking-gether before he got out of the car.

Ashley was waiting for him by the door, and he just knew she was watching his reaction. It was like stepping right into the past. Not a damned thing had changed.

She flicked on the light in the foyer, and besides a few more modern pieces of furniture that she’d clearly added for convenience—like the small table she deposited her keys on, or the new couch—everything was exactly as he remembered from their childhood.

“I didn’t expect you to still live here, in my head, I guess,” he rambled.

“Mom left it to me.” She paused. “I’ve been thinking about selling it.”

“You shouldn’t sell it,” he blurted, a gut reaction.

Dylan glanced over at her, saw her eyes flicking around the room, and he wondered what she was seeing. If it was different from his perspective.

He saw a house filled with love. A rocking chair they used to fight over as kids until they squeezed in next to each other and passed out, only for Lorie to carry them to bed.

Carpet that was worn out, with tracks made from years of tiny feet stomping a familiar path, trailing all the way up the stairs.

He saw love. And memories.

But Ashley had lived a whole life since those memories; his opinions had no place in them. He shook his head. “Sorry. Ignore me.”

“It’s not big enough for a pack,” Ashley murmured, so quietly he almost didn’t hear.

The thought rocked Dylan. “What? You want a pack?”

Ashley’s gaze caught him for a moment before drifting away. “I mean… yeah. I’m an alpha. I want a pack to call my own. A pack to protect.”

Dylan didn’t know why the information surprised him. Ashley was clearly averycapable alpha, a badass. The way she’d put that other alpha down at the gym? Impressive.

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