Page 88 of Pieces of Ash
I think about calling Jock to discuss all of this with him, especially because Ashley has already told me that Jock’s been in touch with the FBI, but then I remember that Gus and Jock are coming over for dinner on Friday night. It’ll keep until then.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and undress. Wearing only my boxer shorts, I slip under the covers, lacing my fingers under my head.
I stare at the ceiling and think about Ashley.
After I made her breakfast again this morning, we took a walk to the pond with Bruno, then drove to a berry farm over in Charlotte. I watched her as we walked up and down the rows, eating as many as we picked and kissing under the blue sky whenever we felt like it. At one point, as she knelt in the dirt andfilled a little basket with berries, I marveled at the fact that this girl, practically drowning in secrets, is someone that I’m growing to trust. For just a moment, my breath caught, heavy and painful in my lungs before I set it free. I hope I’m not throwing caution to the wind. I hope that inviting another woman into my trust isn’t a choice I’ll come to regret.
Above me, I hear her footsteps across a hardwood floor. A toilet flushes. A faucet is turned on, then off. I imagine her walking back through the little sitting room to her bed, and my cock stiffens beneath the sheets. I lick my palm and reach for the thickening flesh, stretching it until it’s sticking way out of the elastic waistband, then flick my thumb over the tip. As I stroke up and down, I force my eyes to stay open, staring up at the ceiling she’s lying right above.
When I come—in hot, white ribbons across my chest—I finally let my eyes close, burrowing the back of my head into the pillow as I picture her face and softly growl my pleasure.
ASHLEY
“Julian is not your boyfriend,” I whisper to my reflection in the bathroom mirror on Thursday afternoon. “You’re sharing a house, and yes, I think he’sbecomingyour friend. Also, you kiss him, and he kisses you back, but thatdoesn’tmake him your boyfriend.”
I stare at myself, willing my brain to accept this as fact, but it’s getting harder with every passing day, with every passinghour.
It’s been five days since he first kissed me, and from that time I’ve learned the hidden places inside his mouth, the hot, wetrecesses that I leisurely explore, that belong to me. My fingers know the peaks and valleys of his chest, the soft skin on the back of his neck, the way he tastes and smells. My body knows what it is to be held by him and against him. I am excited by the hard length of him pushing against my secret places, wanting more.
I want more too, but I’ve only known him for less than two weeks. My feelings for him are so intense, they frighten me. Theyfeelreal, but how can I know for sure? I don’t know how to do this. He is the first man I have ever fallen for.
“But that doesn’t make him your boyfriend,” I snap. My lips turn down, and I look so sad that I add in a whisper, “Notyetanyway.”
Maybe, someday, hewillbe.
Maybe, someday, in the not-so-distant future, when Mosier has given me up and I have graduated from high school, I will come back here. Jock and Gus will let me live in the attic I love so much, and Julian will still be my housemate. And then? We canreallyget to know each other. We can spend every waking moment together. We can fall in love and get married and have a bunch of blond, blue- and green-eyed babies. And I will never, ever be lonely again.
I sigh at my reflection. “You’re insane. You know that, right?”
My hopes and wishes are like a runaway train. My body is hurtling down a track at the speed of light, with Julian waiting for me at the end of the line. It makes me feel so young. Like,tragicallyyoung. When I think about Tig and Mosier and Anders and Gus—the mess I am in, the living nightmare that my life could easily become, the danger my very presence poses to those I care for—I feel so scared, it makes my breath catch. It makes me freeze. It makes me so frightened that no place on earth will ever be safe.
It’s no wonder I have a massive crush on Julian.
I feel Mosier’s breath on the back of my neck, getting closer and hotter every day. But Julian gives me hope that maybe, somehow, someday, Iwillbe safe, and that hope is more precious to me than anything else.
I splash my face with cold water and pull my hair into a ponytail. The forecast calls for thunderstorms this afternoon and evening, but we’re hoping to beat the clouds with a quick walk to the pond first, and I can hear Bruno in the kitchen, baying at me to hurry up.
I smell the impending rain as I scramble down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Julian and his canine companion are standing by the back door.
“Woof!” exclaims Bruno, wagging his rusty-red tail.
“Yeah,” says Julian, grinning at me. “Woof.”
This is happiness, a voice whispers in my heart, and I pause for a second by the marble counter, touching it lightly as I smile back at the pair of them.
A man and his dog, waiting for me, in a farmhouse kitchen.
This is all I need,I think.This man. This dog. This place. I could be happy here forever.
I feel my smile slipping and blink my eyes at the intensity of my feelings. I remind myself that these are fleeting moments—that the likelihood that this story somehow ends in my favor isn’t strong. But no matter what, this time—right here, right now—is mine. One day, I will remember that once upon a time, I knew happiness, and it will help me bear my sorrow when it’s gone.
“Look at you two,” I say, trying for a bright tone.
Julian gestures outside with his chin. “It’s going to downpour any minute. Sure you’re up for it?”
“I’m not sugar.”
“I don’t know about that,” he says, winking at me. He offers me his hand, his arm long and strong as he extends it in my direction. “Let’s go,doudou.”
