Page 121 of Chasing Sparks

Dark wood tables and chairs are stacked neatly in the corner, awaiting their final placement. Vintage-style lanterns hang above the bar, casting a warm glow over the polished wood.

The bar is partially stocked, with an ornate tap installed and ready to pour libations for eager customers. Behind the bar, an empty space awaits the perfect centerpiece—a mirror. I know just the one. The ornate mirror Ash found in a room at the Dean Estate. He loves that thing.

He should have it.

“You came.”

My gaze shifts to Ash, standing in the doorway of his office. His shirt is wrinkled, his hair a mess, and he’s clutching a half-empty glass of whiskey.

“I barely recognize the place,” I say, glancing around.

He nods and walks toward me, his steps heavy. “It started out as a dream, but it’s turned into a hideout from my reality.”

Something in his tone softens my emotional armor. I’ve never heard Ash sound so defeated, and although I know he’s been drinking, there’s a sorrow surrounding him now that no amount of whiskey can erase.

It wasn’t just my life that got turned upside down.

“You’ve been working crazy hours the last couple of weeks, little one.”

I avert my gaze, running a hand along the smooth wood of the bar. “Tax season.”

“But that’s not the reason.”

“No, it’s not.” I sigh, already weary of how this conversation will play out. “How are you and Lucille?”

The words feel jagged as they leave my mouth. My eyes dart to the stairwell, torn between the urge to comfort Ash and the need to flee.

He drags a hand through his hair, his face gaunter than it was just a week ago. Dark circles shadow his eyes, and for the first time, I see how deeply this is affecting him.

“I don’t want to talk about Lucille,” he mutters.

“She’s the giant rainbow-striped elephant in the room, and you want to avoid discussing her?”

“We’re not together. She’s pregnant and needs a place to stay. That’s it.”

Of course, that’snotit. But there’s no point arguing semantics.

“How is she feeling?”

“Do you really care?”

I throw up my hands, my voice rising. “Honestly? I have no fucking idea. I’m supposed to care about how a pregnant woman is feeling, right? Make sure she’s happy, healthy, and drowning in chocolate? But Lucille ruined my life, so forgive me if I’m battling the overwhelming urge to back her over with a bus.”

Ash’s lips twitch into a grin. “Damn, Ori. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

I bury my head in my hands and groan. “I’m an asshole, I know. And I don’t mean it. Lucille is not my favorite person, even though I have no right to hate her. She loved you first.”

“She didn’t love me.”

“Fine. You loved her.”

“Past tense. I definitely do not love her now.”

But their situation is very much the present, and it’s mucked upmyfuture. Sorry that I can’t toss those facts aside as easily as Ash can.

“Since neither of us wishes to discuss Lucille, what shall we talk about? The weather? My favorite hockey team … what is their damn name again?”

“How about us?” He drops his voice, as if sharing an intimate secret. “And how I’m going to fix us.”

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