Page 125 of Chasing Sparks

Turns out, I wasn’t needed. The star of his show is back, and it’s time for me to bow out.

Ash trails behind me as I walk back into the bar, sending Lucille an embarrassed smile.

Even though he claims to be single, her presence is that of a woman who knows she still has some claim to him. Meanwhile, I feel like the home wrecking harlot.

Good times.

“Ori,” Ash’s voice is thick with emotion, but there’s nothing left to say.

Like I told him earlier, there’s no room in his life for me now.

Perhaps there never was.

Chapter 18

Fuck Sweet

Ash

Holy hell, what a morning—and it’s barely nine o’clock.

Doesn’t help that my head’s pounding or that I’m running on about fifteen minutes of sleep. Top it off with a thirty-minute car ride with a woman I want nothing to do with, and you’ve got a banner start to the day.

“Do you need me to stop for coffee?” Lucille asks, concern lacing her voice.

I glance at her briefly, biting back my irritation. Look, I’m not mad at her for yesterday—not exactly—though she ruined what could’ve been a perfect reunion between Ori and me.

She feels terrible. Or so she claims. A part of me wonders if she got some twisted satisfaction from barging in and breaking up my private moment with Ori.

But my anger isn’t directed at her. I’m mad at the mess I’m in—how I’ve landed the starring role in what can only be described as a drug-fueled melodrama featuring my cheating ex, her jiltedhusband, and a psycho ex-boyfriend who’s now gunning for Ori and me.

Universe, if there are karma points, I’d better be racking up some serious ones for this.

“Have you spoken to Trace?” I ask, leaning my head against my hand to avoid the sun’s glare off the snow.

“I did. He said things are moving along, and Kevin wants him to drop by the club this evening.”

“So, it’s happening tonight?”

Lucille shrugs. “Honestly, I’m not sure how it works. Kevin used to have a monthly ‘hiring’ the third week of the month. Now I realize what he really meant by that term. If that schedule hasn’t changed, it won’t be for another couple of weeks.”

I groan and punch the visor. “Fuck. It’s never-ending.”

Lucille leans over, placing a hand on my arm. “I know it feels that way?—”

“Trust me, Lucille, you don’t know how I feel.”

She parks the truck in the lot but leaves the engine idling. “No, but I know what it feels like to be carrying the baby of a man who treated me like garbage. Who punched me for fun and got away with it because he’s rich and powerful. So, no, I don’t know your feelings, but I know hopelessness.”

Damn.

I glance at her, and for the first time in a long while, I feel something new for Lucille—sympathy. I’ve been so twisted up in my nightmare that I never considered hers.

Still wish I were a million miles away from all this bullshit, though.

Leaning over, I wrap an arm around her shoulders and press a quick kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll be okay. Somehow.”

When I climb out of the truck, the arctic chill bites my face, and the crunch of frozen snow echoes underfoot. Feels mighty nice, if we’re being honest.

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