Page 64 of The Devils of Saint City

Both of them drape their legs over my body like it might help. “You can wear my clothes.”

“Sometimes,” Manson argues with Ash. “I have clothes she can use too.”

“Or you two can go get me some clothes of my own and I’ll dedicate one day each week to wearing yours.”

Again, silence, but this time it’s a little less charged. “Do we get to pick your new clothes?” Manson asks, shocking absolutely no one.

“Since I doubt you’ll take me with you, yes. You can choose them, I just want them to be mine. My size, my style.”

“That’s fair. Ash?”

He still hasn’t said anything, but the tightness I’ve grown used to in my chest loosens when he nods. “You still love hoodies more than pants?”

“Yes. And leggings more than jeans. Maybe a couple of cute shirts so I can pretend to still get dressed up.”

“You can still dress up for us when you’re in the mood. Would you ever wear a dress?” Manson asks curiously, but Ash answers for me.

“She hates them. We can get lingerie if you want her to dress up sexy for you.”

“Yeah, but what if we specifically got dresses so we could rip her out of them?”

Sighing, I look at Asher. “I don’t hate them anymore. Once I actually filled out, they made a lot more sense. You should’ve seen the one I wore to prom.”

“I... did,” he admits. “I went there because... well it doesn’t really matter anymore, but yeah, I saw you.”

“He was a whole asshole for a week about it too. Who was the guy you were dancing with anyway? Is he the one you lost your virginity to?”

My stomach twists. “No, but almost. He got cold feet at the last second and said we weren’t ready after promising me it would happen that night for two months, so I fucked hisbrother.” Against my better judgment, I ask, “Asher, why were you there?”

“That’s our girl,” Manson says with chuckle, but Asher isn’t laughing.

“I remember guys at prom and I didn’t want you fucking someone... or multiple someones if we went to the same kind of parties. I didn’t want you enjoying yourself, but when I saw you dancing I made myself leave.”

“Then drank himself into oblivion.“

“That’s unrelated.”

“Sure it is,” Manson argues, offering him a ridiculously obvious wink.

“So you didn’t want me to enjoy myself but left the moment you noticed me enjoying myself? What did you think was going to happen, I was going to go and cry in the bathroom all night?” Sitting up, I brace myself to hear the truth. “Is that what you wanted?”

“No, I—” Ash shakes his head like he’s trying to erase it. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” Manson pushes. “Say it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, then rounds on me. “I didn’t want some fucking guy touching you and then I realized how dumb it was to care so I left. But yeah, when I thought some dude was going to fuck you I wanted to kill someone. There, I fucking said it.”

“Don’t worry, he didn’t actually want to fuck me. His brother sure did though.” Laying back down, I fight a smile as he frowns, his head tilting slightly.

“His older one or his younger one?”

“Older.”

They do that thing where they meet each other’s eyes in silent communication, but this time I have a feeling I know what it means.

Ash relaxes into me again, sending goosebumps over my skin. It’s not lost on me that he just admitted it hasn’t always been hatred driving him. Hatred just... steered better.

“Can we go inside? I’m getting really cold.”

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