Page 26 of Into The Darkness

“I understand, Ember. It’s been an incredibly trying day.” His voice held a soothing reassurance, a gesture of understanding in the midst of the chaos that had engulfed us. “Maybe it’s time to call it a day and head home.”

Our eyes locked. My heart was racing. My breath was ragged. He leaned down so our mouths were close to touching.

“Ineedyou to trust me.” I breathed him in. The smell of pine and the faint taste of chocolate—he was fucking perfection.

“I don’t know if I can make that promise to you.” It took every last ounce of strength I had inside of me to push away from him, and he winced.

He jumped up, threw a few twenties on the table, then looked back at me. Gone was the comforting and desperate man, and he was replaced by the icy person I ran into in class and at the fraternity.

I shook my head and stormed out of the building.

“Thanks for dinner,” I spat, and then clamored over to his car while pushing the door open. He would not get the chance to be a decent human and open the door again.

He drove me crazy as he sauntered out of the diner with a smirk plastered on his face. Then he opened the door and slid in so smoothly. I turned my body so I was facing away from him, and we rode in silence back to my apartment. He pulled in next to where my car would have been if it wasn’t broken. This reminded me I needed to tell Walsh, but I would just deal with it tomorrow.

“Are you happy now?” he asked.

“Happy, Ash?” I grimaced before grabbing my backpack and shutting the car door. “I am confused. I am embarrassed, and I am so mad that I ran into you in that elevator. I wish I had never fucking met you because this past week has been one of the worst of my life.” I paused.

“What does the O on my ear mean?” He shook his head.

“You are changing, Em. Isles makes you realize things you never wish you knew.” Shaking my head, I had no more answers than I did moments ago.

“You speak in riddles, and it’s infuriating, Ash.”

“You are stronger than you seem,” he answered, with a small grin tugging at his lips.

“I give up.” I threw my hands in the air as my words echoed in the garage.

Walking over to the elevator, I took one look back at the Jeep still idling in the parking lot.

As the elevator doors parted, I gracefully entered, and in that fleeting moment, I could have bet my last breath that I glimpsed the unmistakable emerald gaze of Ash through the subtle tint of the car’s rear window.

The next morning, I woke up, and while I didn’t have classes on Monday, I had a small shift at the library. I liked to make sure I was thirty minutes early to everything, as it showed my employers I was committed.

I grabbed a muffin and the coffee that Maddy had left for me before I hopped in the elevator. She had classes early on Monday, which she started to hate, knowing she was going to be hungover from the weekend.

“Shit,” I murmured, “my car.” I had forgotten to call Walsh this morning. Oh well, it was parked next to the library anyway, and when I was done with my shift, I would have Walsh meet me.

When the doors opened, I glanced over to where my car was, then walked up the ramp toward the rest of campus.

Wait a second . . .

“Is that my car?” I approached with skepticism, almost doubting the vehicle before me could belong to me. Perhaps someone had parked their similar-looking car in my spot.

My steps halted as the familiar beater came into focus, and I pressed the keys I had stashed in my backpack. A soft beep confirmed my suspicions.

“Holy freaking shit.” I edged closer to the side of the car where the flat tire had once been, only to find it restored with a brand-new replacement. All the tires gleamed with newness, the chrome centers shining, the treads pristine.

“Ash,” the whispered name slipped from my lips, an immediate recognition of the only person I had confided in about the car predicament. It was eerily fitting that he was the same person who might have taken it upon himself to fix it overnight. Regret washed over me for the way I had treated him the day before, my hostility undeserved.

I shook my head, a mixture of gratitude and resentment swirling within me. If only I had his phone number, I might have been tempted to send a thank-you text. Yet, reality struck me like a jolt of lightning.

“Wait,” I muttered aloud as I slid the key into the ignition, bringing the car to life. “He doesn’t deserve a damn thing.”

A wave of frustration engulfed me. Why was I even considering thanking him when he held the answers to the disturbing events that had unfolded at his fraternity yet kept them concealed, locked away from me? His actions contradicted his intentions; a puzzle I couldn’t decipher.

I recognized the underlying issue. My upbringing had ingrained a people-pleasing nature within me, urging me to suppress my own emotions, stemming from the trauma of my mother’s death. This day marked a turning point, an opportunity to break free from those patterns.

---