Page 92 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

I cringe. “And if I never met Logan’s family?”

He turns to me, his eyebrows practically reaching his forehead. “You never met Logan’s family?”

“Nope.”

“But you were together for years.”

“Guess I’m not parent material. I mean, if I can’t even make my own mom and dad like me…”

“Hey,” he scolds. “Be nice to my Ash.”

“Your Ash?”

His mouth lifts on one corner, but he doesn’t deny it. “I’m serious. Be nice. I don’t want to hear you saying things like that. My parents––my mom,” he corrects himself, clearing his throat. “She’s going to love you.”

My chest cracks as I hear his Freudian slip, and it makes me cave almost instantly, putting aside my insecurities to be a rock for the man beside me.

Reaching toward him, I touch his knee. “You’re right. I’m probably making this out to be a bigger deal than it needs to be. Like you said. It’s only brunch.”

“Yeah.” He gives me the side-eye again. “Only brunch.”

He turns down another street lined with white mailboxes and picket fences, showcasing the perfect suburban neighborhood. He pulls into the driveway of a red brick house with black shutters.

“We’re here.”

40

ASHLYN

We walk up the steps to Colt’s childhood home side-by-side as my anxiety eats me alive. It’s a beautiful brick two-story house with a porch swing and a large maple tree out front. There’s also a welcome mat, and a little wreath with Easter Eggs glued to it is hanging on the door.

It’s adorable.

And a little intimidating.

Colt pushes the front door open without knocking and presses his hand to my lower back so I don’t bolt in the opposite direction. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla tickles my nostrils as Colt guides me inside.

“Colt?” a soft, feminine voice calls from further in the house.

“Hey, Mom,” he yells back. “We let ourselves in.”

“We?” another voice calls as a girl with red, messy curls and a baseball cap pops her head around the corner. “Ooooh. Someone brought a friend.”

“Blake,” Colt greets her, less than amused. “This is Ash. Ash, this is my little sister, Blakely.”

I wave my hand. “Hi.”

“Hi. Nice to meet you.” She pops back around the corner. “Mom! She’s cute and totally out of Colt’s league.”

I slap my palm over my mouth and bite back my laughter as Colt rolls his eyes.

“We can still hear you,” he says, leading me the rest of the way down the hall. Family pictures are hung on the walls, and I stop in front of a more recent one. Colt looks almost exactly the same, and so does his little sister. Two other men who look strikingly similar to Colt flank the sides of the photo while an older man and woman stand in the center.

“That’s my dad,” Colt says when he catches me looking at it.

I smile and glance at him. “His genes must’ve been strong because all of you look like him.”

“Yeah.” Colt chuckles. “My mom used to always complain about how she did all the hard work by carrying us for nine months, yet he’s the one who gets the credit for our good looks.”

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