Page 212 of Chasing Sparks

Ash is usually cool under pressure, but right now, he’s vibrating with so much restless energy, I feel like I should offer him a stress ball. Whatever this surprise is, it’s got him twisted up in knots—and now it’s doing the same to me.

I walk out to the kitchen, marveling at how Ash has set out our food, even going so far as to include a single tulip in a bud vase.

“Look at you,” I remark, fingering the petals of the pink tulip. “Who are you, and what have you done with Asher Hammond?”

He shrugs, a grin splitting his face. “Consider this the upgraded version. Ash 2.0.”

I giggle and bite into my omelet. “Can’t wait to take you for a spin.”

“Oh, that’s happening. I’ve had entirely too little Ori in my life for the six weeks.”

I shovel food into my mouth, but notice Ash is only drinking coffee. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He shakes his head, his fingers drumming a beat on the table. “Not really.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great.” But the incessant tapping continues as he downs his coffee in big gulps.

He’s definitely nervous.

And he definitely doesn’t want to talk about it now.

Even though not talking about it is sendingmyanxiety skyward.

Breathe, Ori. You’ll be okay. If he leaves tomorrow or in two months, you’ll be okay.

I huff out a breath, feeling my body calm. For the first time since I gave Ash the chance to leave, I believe my words.

“Put this on.” Ash hands me a blindfold, and I stare at him, my eyes wide.

“Why?”

“For the surprise.”

I hold the blindfold, worrying my lower lip with my teeth. “Do I have to wear it?”

He huffs out a sigh. “Yes.” Then, with practiced ease, he slides it over my eyes and steals a quick kiss.

“What do you have planned?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” His voice is full of mischief, but a gentle squeeze of my hand reassures me.

The soft hum of music fills the truck a moment later—a playlist of my favorite oldies, likely meant to calm my nerves. It works ... a little.

“Can I at least have a hint?” I ask after a few minutes, shifting in my seat.

“Nope. Then it’s not a surprise.” His hand clasps mine, his fingers entwining with my own. “Trust me, little one.”

Twenty minutes later, the truck slows to a stop, and he kills the engine.

“Can I look now?”

“No. Stay put and don’t peek,” he warns as my fingers twitch toward the blindfold.

“Fine,” I grumble, knotting my hands in my lap. “This had better be good.”

I hear him chuckle as my door opens. He loosens my seatbelt and helps me down from the truck, his hands steady.

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