Page 67 of Released

“Yep, things are pretty messed up at the moment,” I say, sighing as I set down my cutlery on my empty plate. I sit up straight, eyes focused on Ryan as I feel the colour drain from my face. “Shit, Ryan, my grandparents! They’ll be devastated when they find out.”

I’d told Ryan and Lexie about meeting Harold and Petunia last time we had a FaceTime call, and they were unsurprised to learn that Mum was using a fake identity.

“I’ll pay them a visit when I get back home, explain the situation and the need for the current pretence,” he assures me, reaching over and taking my hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

“Won’t that put Lilly in danger?” Rowan asks, and warmth suffuses me at his concern.

“Her grandfather has ties with MI6, he knows how to keep a secret or two,” Ryan explains, and I see both boys' brows raise, a grudging respect in their blue eyes.

“Right, Lilly,” Mai says, turning to look at me. “I’ve bought some bits for you, the guys said you wouldn’t have much, and I’d like to do some checks on baby, if that’s okay?”

“Thanks,” I reply, a lightness filling my soul at the thought that this isolation might not be all bad.

I have friends, am in an amazing location, and my guys are on the end of a phone. It could be worse.

* * *

That night I climb into bed, the mattress soft and the room cosy. I leave the curtains open; my room has a view over the valley below, and the sight is breathtaking as the dying rays of the sun kiss the land.

My burner phone buzzes next to me and reaching over, I smile wide as Ash’s name appears on a FaceTime call. Swiping my finger across the screen, I answer.

“Ash!” I practically squeal, giggling when he winces slightly, but the smile on his face tells me that he doesn’t mind my enthusiastic greeting.

“Hello, Princess,” his deep voice cascades over me, and I snuggle deeper into my pillows at the sound. “How are you settling in?”

“Mai and the twins are here,” I tell him, launching into a description of our day spent unpacking all of the things Mai bought me, including some brightly-coloured fun maternity dresses and dungarees. Ash listens, an indulgent half smile across his lips as I talk. “How was your day?” I finally ask, and he heaves a great sigh.

“We met with the funeral home,” he tells me, bringing a glass of amber liquid to his lips and taking a deep swallow. “Finalised arrangements.”

“Wait, do they have a…body?” I question, no longer quite as relaxed as I was when I answered the call. Another deep exhale passes his lips.

“Yeah, some unknown Jane Doe.” He winces as he says it, and my own face scrunches at the thought of some poor girl taking my place.

“Make sure she gets the best,” I say after a moment, and he looks up at me, his face full of wonder.

“You really are too good for us, Princess,” he says softly, and the need to be wrapped up in his arms is almost overwhelming. Searching for a distraction, I look behind him to see that he’s not in the dorms.

“Where are you?”

A small smirk tilts his full lips.

“I’m at my house, in the woods,” he answers, moving to the side so that I can see the room he’s in. It’s dark, the only light from the setting sun filtering through the huge window. It’s not a room that I recognise though. “I wanted to play you something.”

My heart skips a beat, anticipation rushing through me in an electric wave. There’s a bit of a wobble on the screen as he props the phone up, I assume on the lid of the piano, as he sits back down in front of it. I have to bite my lips to stop from making an excited noise as he cracks his fingers, looking at the camera with that sexy as fuck half smile that he only gives me.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready.”

My mouth drops open when he begins to sing, his fingers playingLove me Like you Do, the Boyce Avenue acoustic version. I watch, enraptured as he sings for me, his voice husky and with an incredible range. His eyes are closed, his face bathed in the light of the dying sun, and tears fill my eyes at the raw emotion in his voice.

My pulse races, and I’m grateful that I’m lying down, as my knees are weak as fuck. I told him once that I loved this song, and I can’t help feeling that he’s learnt it just for me, pouring his soul into it and letting me know that he, too, understands the meaning of the lyrics. It’s about an all-consuming love, love that defies the ages, and about the fact that you need to grasp it with both hands. It’s our love, our journey.

By the time he’s softly playing the final notes, hot tears are tracking down my cheeks, and I can’t even blame the damn hormones. He pauses with his hands over the keys, then looks up, his own eyes glistening.

“A–Ash,” I stutter out, no idea how to follow that up. How to convey to him all that I’m feeling right now.

“I know, Princess. I know,” he replies, his voice gruff. He clears his throat. “Let me play some more while you go to sleep. You need to rest.”

---