Page 7 of Phillip

Ashley pulled herself up and gaped at the damage. “Is anyone hurt?”

“Anyone hurt?” immediately echoed, but in deep baritone voices. “Is everyone okay?”

She turned toward the voices. Two men rushed into the damaged tent and stopped, surveying the destruction.

Shell-shocked, Ashley did again as well. They were lucky no one had been in the direct line of the golf cart that now was pinned between two tables.

The scent of burning rubber hung in the air. Sirens rang in the distance. People could have died! Her legs wobbled as an ice sculpture crashed. She and Lori yelped as Trinity swung her camera toward the men.

Their dark hair was ruffled, and their crisp polo shirts grass stained. Her gaze narrowed, and another rush of anxiety hit. “Brock?”

He stopped, blocking the identity of the other man behind him, but Ashley would know him anywhere, even when masked by the unusual longer hair and stubble. Brock’s focus on the camera registered the seriousness of the situation, and she could’ve sworn he mouthed a silent curse. But that was Brock, ready for the camera, always confident and controlled.

And if that was Brock, and this was a disaster… Her stomach turned.Years of avoidance.For years, she’d changed her plans and done everything to avoid her ex since the day she’d broken their hearts and run away.

Phillip stepped into her clear view.

“Oh God.” Her hand clutched her chest at the sight of Phillip Blackthorne—the king of shenanigans and skirter of responsibility, the only man she’d ever loved. He was a paradox of playfulness and deep, hidden emotions. A flood of embarrassment and anxiety nearly took her to the ground.

Brock strode forward, greeting all in his professional tone.

Phillip came alongside his brother, greeting only her. “Ashley.”

Her name on his lips made her weak. She needed to hold on to the disaster that surrounded them, remember that this was who he was, and what happened when he was around. But her heart nearly screamed.

“Phillip.” Tears burned her throat. “Hello.” She didn’t know why she ached or how to make that pain go away.

“It’s been a while.” His jawline had sharpened over the years, but his dark, playful eyes remained the same, dancing and daring her to hide anything from him.

But something in him had changed beyond surface level. She didn’t know what and shouldn’t care. Their differences needed to keep her from him.

“It has,” she admitted. Heat rose to her cheeks as did a tornado of emotions. She had been angry and a coward when she’d run off the stage at Harvard. She’d also been weak and far too easy to influence. All the years she’d thought about apologizing to him, wondering about the possibility of what they could have been, but knowing, despite her immature means, the breakup had been the right decision.

Ashley swallowed but then came back to the here and now. She was surrounded by everything she needed to know about Phillip’s irresponsibility. But this time, his recklessness had nearly killed her. Just like her mother had said, Phillip was a risky disaster. And her mother, famously, was never wrong.

Brock abruptly turned toward the reporter and camerawoman, reminding Ashley they were still there. As if the acknowledgment gave Lori permission, she launched at Brock with a tirade of questions. Always unfazed, he shifted the conversation and the reporter’s line of sight away from her and Phillip and the damage to an unmarred tent wall with large plastic picture windows that overlooked the green.

Phillip cocked his head, stepping to Ashley’s side. “Small world.”

“Small world,” she managed, tight-jawed.

The corners of his lips quirked. “You don’t look happy to see me.”

Oh, the jokes.His irresponsible quips came roaring back. “That might be the understatement of the summer.” Her teeth tapped, a mixture of nervous energy and sudden irritation—both at him and herself. “I’m not thrilled to see you.”

“Consider me shocked.” He smirked. “Would you like to scurry off? I think Brock has this handled, and you’re so good at running away.”

Her molars ground together. “This is the wrong time to turn us around on me.”

“There is no us. Remember?” He crossed his arms. “You decided that years ago.”

“A lot of good that did me.” She was a strong woman. Perhaps stubborn, somewhat too strong for her own good, but she likened her resolve to steel in so many situations.Unmoving. Unyielding.Steel was the strongest metal known to man, impact resistant and unscathed when pulled in opposite directions. Right now, that was what she needed to be.

Phillip dabbed at a cut above his eyebrow, masking a small wince.

“Are you—” She made herself stop. He had a small cut when he could’ve killed people. That was what she needed to focus on.

“Ashley,” Lori called, snaring her attention.

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